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Unpopular Opinion

Stop trying to make 9/11 all about how the Muslims were treated after what had happened. Let the U.S. have their day to mourn the lives lost and to help heal their still hurting families. I mean, come on guys….this is getting out of hand

3 weeks ago - 21:30.

So the terror attack at Sarona Market in Tel Aviv happened just about three weeks ago, and slowly but surely I am starting to process some of the things that happened instead of just thinking of them as emotionless events that occurred at my workplace. I want to write down what I remember so that I can remember each time I want to. When time passes, when things get blurry, when it isn’t as fresh. This post is way more for me than it is for you.

I was working my first shift back at the Tasting Room after returning from my long weekend trip to Switzerland. That day was our first time offering a cocktail to our clients instead of just offering tastings and glasses of wine. I loved the cocktail my manager came up with - so I enjoyed a lot of it. Just about when I finished my second glass and was feeling extra friendly, I walked across the market to the shop which I constantly stare at every single day since it is in my frame of view, and decided to try to make friends with the girl with the awkward blonde streak in her hair to break the ice after more than half a year of just staring at each other. Being that I had just returned from my trip to Switzerland I brought back a lot of chocolate for my colleagues and asked her if she would like to try some - the dark chocolate, the salted chocolate, or the chili chocolate. She smiled at me (finally) and said she wanted to try all three to see which was the most unique! I got excited at her enthusiasm and said I would bring it right over for her. I went back to my shop, entered the mahsan (storage? warehouse? place-of-keeping-spare-wines?) where I left all of the chocolate and began to prepare her a piece of each one.

Once I exited the mahsan and tried to head back over to her store, I saw that people started moving quickly. With a purpose. People started running. People started screaming. People started yelling “ירייה!! ירייה!!” which I had learned in Hebrew class means “shooting!”.

My first instinct as to run into our mahsan (storage? warehouse? still don’t like any translation) which is essentially a wine cellar, and lock myself inside. Before I could lock the door a few people tried to push in - and I let them. They were all English speakers, all tourists. I let five people in and then we slammed the door shut. We tried to lock it but naturally the keys we use every day just wouldn’t take to the lock.

People started banging on the door. Pushing the door and trying with all of their might to turn the handle and make their way in. I heard women begging in Hebrew, “Let us in!! Let us in!! Please!!” in a fright. I couldn’t do it - I simply could not allow anyone in. The past wave of terror we experienced here in Israel included stabbings by female terrorists; attacks by children as young as twelve years old. There is no longer a profile for a terrorist here in Israel. When older men, younger men, twenty-something women, and pre-teen boys have all successfully carried out terror attacks against us - you can’t trust anyone, regardless of their sex, regardless of the language they speak or the accent they have. Me and the few people inside of the mahsan barricaded the door with boxes of wine piled up to the ceiling to ensure no one could allow themselves in.

**Just a side note - after all of the chaos surrounding the terror attack made news, it also became known that after the terror attack, a police officer that lived in the area of the attack was running home with his wife to get his badge and gun - and that he allowed one of the terrorists to enter his home after the terrorist pretended to be in stress like a victim and ask for water. A well trained police officer allowed a stranger, that stranger being the terrorist, into his home in order to drink a glass of water with the police officer’s wife and children. The police officer’s wife and children sat at their home table, with a terrorist, drinking water and watching the news I’m sure while talking about “how terrible the situation is”. Even I, a simple wine store worker, had the common sense by not allowing strangers into my safeplace than this police officer had.

I called my husband. For the past few months, he had been coming to Sarona Market each time I worked the night shift to study while I finished up and take me home safely. This was the first time in weeks he didn’t come to study and take me home, so that he could go to the gym. Once locked safely in our mahsan, I called him and told him there was a shooting at Sarona Market. It took him a few seconds to realize the weight of what I was saying, and being the army boy that he is, gave me a few instructions and assured me he was on his way to the market with his pistol. Each line of some sort safety and security he fed me I passed on to the few people waiting with me inside of the mahsan. Tourists from New York, tourists from South Africa. No family or security in sight - his reassuring words were the few I could give.

Speaking of those people, the second a woman came into our mahsan she fainted. She had been trampled by a crowd of people trying to escape the shooting. Her friends were trying to revive her, and I made sure to give everyone inside with me all of the chocolate I had. I constantly made jokes, “Thank god I just came back from Switzerland right? We’re locked in here with loads of chocolate!!” A nice elderly man (the only man inside with us, actually) barricaded the door and put his whole body weight and strength against the handle which people were trying to push in. We all had wifi and we all had access to the news. For the first time, CNN Breaking News actually actively reported and alerted about the attack in Tel Aviv.

It didn’t take long until we all found out the shooting took place at a restaurant called Max Brenner - an Israeli chocolate delicatessen that serves premium quality desserts and also offers non-dessert meals. We also read that the two terrorists were dressed as religious Jews. I tried to do what I could to make jokes as the news continued to post the number of people critically injured, the number of deaths. We opened a bottle of cava and decided to celebrate the fact that we were safely inside of an air conditioned space with a bottle opener and hundreds of high quality, premium wines.

I continued to make jokes. We continued to fight off people trying to shove their way into the mahsan. I asked each and every single person who tried to enter who they are, where they are from, if they work in the market, etc. Majority didn’t answer in their panicked state which didn’t help their cause. I gave different safe hiding places to those I didn’t know and those that didn’t answer - but I could not let them in. Just by letting the handful of tourists I let in I was taking a risk. But I took that risk and quit playing my cards while I was ahead..

Eventually after about forty minutes or so we heard a loud, distinguished banging on the steel door. “Police!!” they yelled repeatedly. We are just a group of civilians. How do I know that they are police? Which is exactly what I screamed. I yelled to them in Hebrew, “How do I know you are the police? How do I know?” And I demanded that they send at least one Police ID underneath the door for us to have it confirmed. It was confirmed and we finally opened the door. The police wanted to check that everyone was safe and no one was hurt (which I am sure was a cover for checking that we weren’t harboring any terrorists) and then they continued their way on.

The same woman who almost previously fainted was still weak - luckily we are a market, so I ran to the fresh fruit store and stole a few bananas for her. I gave them water and tried to do whatever I could - then my husband came. The people I had taken in started telling him that I was their guardian angel and that I saved their life. This made me tickle inside and bashful and uncomfortable. Then I made my husband take them to their car parked inside of the garage while I finished closing the store. Once he came back and we were finally alone I broke down just a little, finally realizing what happened. Arriving at home was the worst - seeing the news, four people killed by terrorists on my territory while eating a nice Wednesday night dinner at Max Brenner. By two low-life terrorists.

I worked exactly the morning after and made sure to get right back on the horse I had fallen off of. The first song the market place on their speakers that morning was Bob Marley’s “Every Little Thing”. Every little thing is going to be alright. Classic Israeli Mentality for you right there. Its been about three weeks since, and things have turned back kind of to normal, minus the 25% discount on the whole market that Sarona is trying to promote now that people have stopped coming after the attack. Watching the videos of people in Ataturk Airport in Turkey, running away from a danger they aren’t entirely sure of, has totally given me flashbacks and made me rethink the situation I was in. It is not normal and it is not fair. II still haven’t fully wrapped my head around the terror attack I strategically made it through but it seems like it will slowly start to permeate through me.

This is so relevant to day-to-day lives people are living and it is heartbreaking,