I'll have to remember to pray for the day Israelis don't have to worry about war or terrorism. I also have to pray they can make some sort of peace with their neighbors, because I'm a huge "let's make love, not war" kind of person.
Speaking of love... I look out the window and crane my neck to see if I can spot Avi. No such luck.
Pulling out my makeup case, I tell Jess to hold up the mirror so I can brush on more blush and fix any smudged eyeliner. Then I hold up the mirror for Jess so she can do the same.
"What are you girls doing?" Nathan asks, laughing.
"Fixing ourselves."
"This isn't a beauty pageant, you know. It's the IDF."
"We know," Jess says, dipping the lip gloss applicator in the tube and applying it to her lips. "But who says just because you're in the army you have to look like crap?"
"Seriously, Nathan. Don't you know anything about girls?"
"Apparently not." He turns to Miranda and puts his hands in a praying position. "Don't be like them, okay?"
"I like the way they look," Miranda tells him. "If I was as pretty as them, I'd do the same."
He slaps his palm against his forehead. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing. Miranda, you're fine as-is." Great, Nathan, treat her as if she's a defective as-is item sold on the clearance rack.
"Miranda, I need makeup to look good," I tell her. "You're naturally pretty."
When the bus passes through the checkpoint, my heart starts racing. I wonder when we'll have free time to explore the base so I can search for Avi.
"Don't volunteer for anything," a guy in the seat behind us whispers through the space between the seats. "Pass it down."
I pass the message down.
"I heard if you volunteer, you'll be stuck doing some crappy assignment," Jess says.
Note taken. I will not volunteer. I have a major aversion to crappy assignments.
Chapter 2
Why couldn't God have given humans doggie sweat glands, so we could gracefully pant our sweat away?
Our military leaders, or hamefa'ked'm Hebrew (if you say it fast it sounds like I'm a [insert cuss word]), are named Ronit and Susu. They're both Israeli, both in the military, and their crappy assignment is being in charge of us during boot camp. Susu is in charge of the twenty guys and Ronit is in charge of the twenty girls.
Ronit stands next to the bus driver with her clipboard in hand. "Girls, please find your suitcases and follow me to the bittan. Boys, follow Susu."
We gather our backpacks and file off the bus.
"If they're gonna separate the guys from the girls, can we at least have co-ed showers?" Nathan mumbles.
"You're a pig," I tell him.
"Shh, don't say the word 'pig' so loud, Amy," Nathan whispers in my ear. "Pigs aren't kosher, you know."
"Whatever, Nathan. It's not like I'm gonna eat it. I just said it."
Some of the stronger American guys from our trip are unloading our luggage. I would be searching for my luggage, but I'm too consumed with Avi-scanning and fanning my face with my hand because it's so hot outside.
You'd think God's holy land wouldn't be as hot as hell, but it is.
"Find your luggage fast, ladies!" Ronit's voice booms from behind us. "And follow me!"
"Does she have to be so cheery all the time?" Jess asks. "It's irritating."
"Maybe she loves her job," Miranda chimes in.
I snort, on purpose. "Maybe she's got a personality disorder."
I watch as Nathan joins the other guys following Susu. I have to give major credit to Nathan for always fitting in as "one of the guys." He's never an outcast or out of place, because everyone likes him. It's a trait that totally annoys someone like me--I only feel comfortable with people who know me.
I spot my hot pink luggage that I bought for my trip. One big rolling suitcase and one smaller one. My father wanted me to buy a dorky duffel or some boring luggage that had been "rated highly" (my dad's words, not mine) by Consumer Reports, but I'd axed that suggestion because the only colors available were black and black with dark gray trim. I have one word to describe them: BOR-ING!
I want my luggage to reflect my personality. And I'm anything but boring. I pull out the handles to my girlie suitcases and start wheeling them away from the others.
Ronit holds her hand high in the air and says, "Follow me, girls!" as she heads down the road. "Yala, zooz! Hurry!"
Most of the girls in our group are lugging duffels (okay, I admit the brochure might have recommended them, but it'd be impossible to shove all my stuff in a duffel... and I'd never be able to carry it even if I could). How these girls can fit their necessities into one bag is beyond me.
Miranda, Jessica, and I are lagging behind. I mean, come on... who can hurry when it's so damn hot outside? Jessica has two pink suitcases, just like me, but hers have huge rhinestone/diamond studs spelling out JESSICA across the side. Miranda only has one painfully boring black suitcase. The poor girl is sweating so much there are wet spots in the shape of half-moons under her boobs.
"I think I'm going to die," Miranda says, yanking a portable fan out of her suitcase and hanging it around her neck. "Where are the barracks?"
I would feel sorry for her, except my boobs have the same half-moon wet spots and I don't have a portable fan.