Just a few days ago, I saw my old friend Sarit who I went to college with in Austin. Sarit grew up in Israel and went to uni in the US after her army service (“uni”? “UNI???” I guess I’ve been hanging out with Brits too much. Especially in this 20 degree weather (there’s that Celsius thing again.) I came here, she stayed there, and for various reasons, I’ve barely seen her for eight years.
When she came to Tel Aviv for her cousin’s wedding, it was time to catch up. And after years apart, there’s a lot to catch up on. She’s got four kids…..her husband started a new company….her 60-something year old aba drives a tustus.
Exsqueeze me? A baking powder? (Hebrew: “Slicha?”)
Let’s rewind:
Sarit’s uncle: “I’ll just tustus over and get a shawarma.”
Me: “Who has a tustus?”
Sarit: “My father.”
Me: “Your father has a tustus?”
Sarit: “He got one after I left for college. He doesn’t have the patience to sit in Tel Aviv traffic.”
Me: “Omig-d! That’s crazy! What does your mother think?”
Sarit: “She rides on it too, on the back.”
Me: “What are they, kids? And what do you think?”
Sarit: “I don’t like it, it’s dangerous.”
Ech omrim “role reversal”? Hilarious. This country cracks me up.
Almost twice my age and he could definitely kick my ass.A real gever gever (“manly man”….this phrase definitely deserves its own post)
From more than three years ago: my first tustus ride…wow, Sarit, you even commented about this at the bottom. You are truly one of my loyal readers.
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