1988-1989 Rothberg Yearbook

TRANSPORTATION
The night is young. The air is brisk. The bus stop is crowded. Like a trader on the stock exchange,
you are barraged w ith num bers. So many num bers: 26, 4 aleph, 28, 23 aleph, 23 bet, 23 gim el, 23
daled... yet the 9 bus is now here. You consider succum bing to the 4 aleph-Nope, too slow. The 23;
Nope, too dangerous. You w ait.
The night is m iddle-aged. The air — very cold. The bus stop drips icicles on unsuspecting Egged
passenger w anna-be's. They ju m p as each bus tu rn s left from the University. They sit w hen the 9 bus
is not found.
The night w ould be past its sexual prim e, if nights had them . Finally, as if answ ering unspoken
prayers, she comes — long, slender, beautiful. The doors open w ith a thum p. A fte r a squeeze w hich
w o u ld make British soccer fans feel like sardines, you make it into the foyer of the Egged Luxury Liner.
A frie n d gives you the sign and you face the man at the w heel and clear your throat. W ith cartis in
hand, you utter a single w ord — pa'am ayim . The travellers in the coach cease th e ir petty
conversations, adm iring your com m and of th e ir tongue.
By the tim e the bus passes the Hadassah and Hyatt stops, the night is “ over the h ill". Am erican
university sw e a tsh irts fill the aisles. You think for a second that you hear a w ord of Hebrew being
spoken in the bus — you are w rong. You are not in Israel now, you are in SUNY Bingham ton. Yet, still
you w a n t to speak Hebrew. Ulpan flashcards appear before your eyes. Foods, colours, n u m b e rs^- no,
not them . Songs begin to play in your ears — Shalosh Pinot — NO! So you say it in English — "Pardon
me sir, your Golane Bet-47 A utom atic A ssault Rifle is in my nostril — could you double check the
safety...Please."
The bus pushes on. So does the night. W hen the fa m ilia r sight and sm ells of the Ben Yehuda
d istrict are encountered, the shoving begins anew. The last bus leaves in 15 m inutes. Grab a brew.
The night is gone.
Howie Slomka