Standing at the checkout counter watching the young woman struggle to scan my 18 pound turkey, my coat still wet from day three of torrential rains, the dude behind me looks disdainfully at my turkey, then at me, then at my turkey, and then back at me. I raise my eyebrows, daring him to speak.
He accepts the challenge. His face half pity and half condescension, he drawls, “I never really ‘got’ Thanksgiving. It’s so silly. You’re in Israel now, be Israeli. Stop being so American.” Then he adds, “I’m French.”
I stood looking at this man in all his self righteous glory. On a good day, I have no patience for idiots. On day three of wet and cold? My patience had washed away long before. Many, many retorts ran through my mind — but, quite unlike me, I held my tongue… mostly.
Read the entire article on Times of Israel
