Oh Hey Jerusalem

I got accosted by a vaguely crazy Israeli woman while I sat in a park, trying to finish the book I had nearly finished over lunch. “Can I talk to you?” she asked. “I don’t want sex -- not every girl who talks to a man wants sex. It’s not like that.” Sex hadn’t occurred to me as an option. I waved to the bench next to me. “Please,” I said. “This park is named for George W. Bush,” she told me. “He was the best man ever. If he was Jewish, I would totally marry him. But he’s not Jewish so it’s not going to happen. You have this celebrity in America -- Ellen Dangerous, something like that -- on television, very funny lady? She once called him, and he was so sweet and also he loves Israel and I thought -- I could marry this man. Do you still want to talk to me? If you don’t want to talk to me, I can go.” “Actually,” I told her, “I’ve got to go. I have to meet my friends. And, uh, my wife.” “Ok,” she said. “Well. In Hebrew we’d normally say ‘I wish you good health,’ but good health is nothing if you’re depressed -- I was depressed for years, tried to kill myself a few times, I know all about it, my parents wouldn’t even talk to me” (here she choked up a little) -- “so instead of good health, I’ll say, ‘I hope you’re happy.’ Just remember -- God is always watching you. He’s watching you, and he’s probably got his arms crossed in front of him, because God is like a bitchy girl. He’s like your bitchy girlfriend who’s probably pissed off, but wants to have a relationship with you, so talk to him. Ask him what you did wrong. Because if things aren’t going your way, it’s probably because God is pissed off at you, and you need to figure out what you did and fix it. You’re not perfect. God is perfect, but you’re not, so if something’s wrong, It’s probably something you did and God is pissed off about it, and you need to fix it.” “All right,” I said. “Well, peaceful Shabbat to you.” I always seem to attract the crazy ones.

Oh Vishnu.

I don't fully understand cows in Hinduism -- something about them being Shiva'a vehicle, or the incarnation of Vishnu or something. It's surprisingly hard to research: everything is either too simplified ("Cows are sacred in India!") or too in-depth ("The cow is the apparition of the goddess Parvathi, the avatar of Shiva as per the eighth Rig Veda and known by the name Ashanthana...").

But regardless of backstory, cows are everywhere on the streets, sometimes munching on leftover banana leaves that were used as plates or, more commonly, nosing through piles of trash and picking out edible bits or delicious plastic bags to chew on. You learn to ignore them -- they're not cuddly, and they're large and slow moving and not the brightest of animals, so they're fairly easy to just walk around.

I met an Oklahoman (bushy beard; broad, flat drawl) at my hotel and we went to dinner, passing by several cows along the way. One had his head down in the trash and for whatever reason as I passed, he took a disliking to me, and brought his head up sharply between my legs, lifting me a few inches off the ground by the seat of my pants.

The Oklahoman grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. "Jesus," I said. "I really wasn't expecting Vishnu there to, uh..."

"GIT TA THIRD BASE?!?" he cackled.

"Exactly," I said.