The 38-minute pilgrimage

This past weekend was Rosh Hashana. It wasn't my first big Jewish holiday in Israel - I was here for Pesach and had the Seder dinner at my boyfriend's dad's house outside of Tel Aviv. I again found myself at the same spot at the table for 20, only this time my boyfriend was in the States and it was just me, his dad, and the entirety of his wife's family. This is how Jewish events get so big: invite everyone you know, and just hope there are enough people there to dilute the potential awkward encounters. Ex-husbands and new vegetarian wives? Sure, after all his grandkids will be there, we can't not invite him. Your daughter's husband's divorced parents want to show up - together? The more the merrier!

It was in this scenario I found myself on the eve of Rosh Hashana. Thankfully, my boyfriend's dad sat me next to him and a bottle of wine, so hakol beseder. It was tiring, it was weird, but the food was good (except the stuffed peppers made without meat for the aforementioned veggie, but really, how can you expect the rice to stay moist without a little fat coming from a little meat?), I had a nice bonding experience with my boyfriend's dad, and I got to leave the balagan at a reasonable hour - thanks to a slightly mentally ill brother, I couldn't sleep there lest he go on one of his midnight naked tours of the house. But not to worry - my boyfriend's mom let me sleep at her place, which was vacant because she was spending the holiday with her daughter. So wonderful, a 5-minute drive and I was in bed, and could spend the morning as I wished (which happened to be a long run along the sea) and then rejoin the family in the afternoon. Thankfully, the crowd had dispersed and I spent a lovely afternoon and evening with my boyfriend's dad, his wife, and his wife's youngest son. A friend of hers joined us for dinner, and along with the crazy brother, we were a much more manageable party of 6.

Now, I know myself and my limits of groups-of-people time. Accordingly, I had vacated myself from the apartment, knowing I'd probably want to return home after dinner. The thought of driving back to my own house to wake up in my own bed for a lazy morning before heading to work for a few hours was much more appealing than spending the night away from home, and no matter how early I'd drive back, it would still seem like I'd be in a rush to get home. No, thanks.

I did not announce this fact. I was fully prepared to leave and have everyone assume I was going back to my boyfriend's mom's apartment and leaving first thing in the morning. Because I knew what would happen. The problem is, and now you will know my one weakness, is that I can't lie to a direct question. So, when over dessert my boyfriend's dad asked me what time I was leaving to go back to Jerusalem, I had to tell him: tonight.

Let disaster ensue. I might as well have announced my intention to start out on foot for Mecca without shoes. While everyone's pretty much gotten used to our departing Shabbat dinners and going "all the way" home, I think they were surprised they couldn't blame it on my boyfriend and that I was of the same mold. I was told I was crazy more times in a 5-minute period than I have in my entire life. I tried to explain my feelings of sleeping in my own bed, the fact that nothing was happening the next day - in fact there was a luncheon to which I was not invited - I even threw in the work card even though there was really no reason as I didn't have to go since it was a holiday. I think the only thing that saved me was the fact that they saw I wasn't changing my mind. And the fact that there was cake to send with me for sustenance on my long journey. They tried to give me the entire refrigerator before they realized it probably wouldn't fit in the car. They drilled me as to when I had finished my last glass of wine, how many I had had, if I was going to fall asleep, if they needed to call me on my way so I'd have someone to talk to to stay awake. The sherpa had the night off for the holiday, so they couldn't send him with me. I was on my own.

It took me exactly 38 minutes door-to-door. And that was only because I was unlucky with a string of red lights. Best 38 minutes I ever spent.