My buddy Gershon left for the States for a couple of months. "My baby girl's left home and works in some late night eatery in Jerusalem. It's a big city and the people can get wild up there. Would you look in on her from time to time. She tells me she works most nights."
Last night, on my [Hebrew] birthday eve, looking for a location to drink a l'chaiyim to sixty, I went up to Jerusalem to find Sully's Place where Gershon's daughter works.
My son gave me general directions ["Abba, it's in Ben Yehudah; ya know, Abba, it's a bar!"] but nothing more specific--or so I recall.
For a sociologist, there's nothing like walking through urbanscapes at night. Monday night at that. It's a chance to see how folks use urban space at night.
With all the colleges, yeshivas, universities, seminaries, and other assorted thinktanks, Jerusalem at night is alive with young people. They use it like any other university town--politely, loudly, and waiting for business.
For example, over at Cafe Hillel, on Jaffa Street, couples chat quitely bathed in European bistro light and sound.
Over at Sully's, they have Monday Night Football on the tube [definitely NOT World Cup Soccer], Blondie over the system, and "friends in lowly places" clientele. It really DOES chase one's blues away.
The regulation Steve McQueen barkeep [he was truly flattered when I called him barkeep] peers intently at his own screen politely ignoring the customers.
Why is that? Because he's got a hot, high stakes poker game going down on Internet Poker.
I ask the barkeep where I can find Gershon's daughter. In awe, he passes the work along and then tells me about the time some drunk came into the bar screaming and shouting dragging security after him. Gershon's daughter went up to the guy and decked him stating emphatically that "there'll be none of that here". Everyone in the place is stunned. Time stands still. Then, it's as if the Israel won the World Cup.
When she finally finds me at my table, we chat about her new life in Jerusalem and her work. I ask her about the barkeep's tale. "Yep, that's pretty much what happened." She then smiles and adds, "Tell my father I'm doin' alright."
Yes, Ma'am. You Betcha.
Outside, the cabbies are lined up patiently waiting for bar closing.
It's a bit of a walk back to my car; but, I know I can always grab an Americano at Hillel's.
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