The zombie bus shelter

It's been quite a while since I've written about hitchhiking here in Israel.  Most of what I've posted on the topic has been fairly positive, if not downright informative (if I do say so myself).  Other posts... less so.

But I've had this post gestating for the past year or two and I think the time has finally come to just push it out in one cathartic contraction:

I enjoy picking up hitchhikers... I really do.  Whether they are students or soldiers or just plain folks like you or me, it feels really good to help someone get from point 'A' to point 'B' quickly and safely. 

I mention the good feeling because, truth be told, there is very little altruism in my habit of giving lifts to strangers. 

First of all there is the whole karma debt thing.  Meaning, I've been there and done that... standing for hours on the side of the road in all kinds of weather waiting for someone to give me a ride.  There have been so many times when people have gone out of their way to take me where I needed to go that I feel like emulating them is a repayment of sorts.

Secondly, similar to paying off a karma debt, I feel like I need to make frequent and generous deposits in the karma bank since I have three kids who will almost certainly be hitchhiking in the not-too-distant future.  I figure if I give rides to other people's kids, maybe some of the good will will trickle down when my children find themselves trying to flag down a ride.

The last reason I enjoy giving rides to strangers is that they are an amazing source of information.  You'd be amazed at what I've learned about my new country, it's people and its institutions, just from sitting back and listening to what native born Israelis say to pass the time during the drive.

But over the past couple of years I have noticed a strange phenomenon that seems to be centered around one particular hitchhiking post.  It is a bus shelter at the entrance to a town (whose name I won't mention here) that is almost always crowded with people waiting for rides no matter what time I pass.

The problem is as follows:

In most cases I stop, roll down my window and let the waiting crowd know where I'm headed.  If my route coincides with where they are going, one or more people will get in and join me.  If not, they will give some verbal sign, such as "thanks anyway, have a nice drive" or a simple "no thank you" to let me know that there are no takers.

But at this one, crowded bus stop there seems to be a problem.  I will pull up... roll down my window... tell the assembled group where I'm going... and... nothing.

They stand there staring at me with vacant, bovine eyes.  I'm not talking about the kids who are simply bad at geography who, when I tell them I'm going to Beer Sheva, ask "By way of Jerusalem?"  (sort of like being in L.A., telling a hitchhiker you are going to San Francisco and having them ask "By way of San Diego?").

At first I thought perhaps they weren't understanding what I was saying because of my American accent.  But this never happened to me elsewhere... only at this one place.  Sometimes if I repeated my destination several times loudly enough a couple of hitchhikers might stir from their slumber and start to make a move as if to get in.  But then they would start to look expectantly at each other as if in a mental game of 'no, you first... I insist'... and ultimately the seconds would tick past and NOBODY would get in.  Then another car would pull up behind mine and I would see the zombies shuffle off towards the new arrival and stare uncomprehendingly into his window.

It honestly baffles me.  Its as if they haven't considered where they need to go until the instant I pull up!  And once I tell them where I'm going they need to boot up the rusty Commodore 64 computer between their ears and try to figure out if where I'm going is anywhere near where they need to end up.

After about a year of this I mentioned to one of my regular carpool mates that I was starting to think there was something about the location causing this to happen.  The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense that the bus shelter there at the entrance to that town was actually sucking the intelligence out of the heads of whoever stood in its shade.

It finally got to the point where it aggravated me so much that I frequently passed the spot without stopping.  Sure it made me feel bad to see all those people standing forlornly there on the side of the road waiting for a lift... but I just couldn't bear the inevitable shocked silence as the herd chewed their collective cud and pondered the strange wheeled object inexplicably blocking their view of the other side of the road.

My regular carpool mate started gently chiding me whenever I would pass them by, insisting that it was all in my imagination... that it couldn't be as bad as all that.  But whenever I gave in and decided to give it another try, the same exact thing would happen again!

Yesterday was my carpool-mate's turn to drive, and as we approached this particular town on our return journey I silently wondered if he would stop to offer a ride.  Sure enough, as the intersection came into view he started to brake and put on his turn signal.  But instead of pulling up to the bus shelter he pulled into the adjoining gas station.  I started to kid him gently, saying, "Oh, I see you can't bear to stare into the vacant eyes either!"  But when he'd finished gassing up his car he offered his own response by smugly pulling up to the crowded bus stop.

Down came the window... our destination was announced... and... nothing. 

For a moment anyway. 

Then a young woman wearing an enormous backpack seemed to start from her slumber and began walking towards the car.  This movement seemed to have broken the log-jam because a couple of other, equally encumbered kids started walking towards the car door.

My carpool mate headed them off with a loud "Please put your backpacks in the trunk". 

Nothing. 

As if he hadn't said anything they all began piling into the car with their gigantic packs.

Again, the instruction to put the bags in the trunk was yelled and one young man stepped around to the back of the car to comply.  But the other two sat happily in the back seat with their packs jammed tightly between their chests and the front seats.

Incredulously my friend got out, put his hands on his hips and began yelling "Didn't you hear me?  I said to put the bags in the trunk!  If G-d forbid we're in an accident I don't want one of them flying up and hitting me in the back of the head... what's wrong with you?"

As if hearing him for the first time the other two passengers slowly complied and then returned to the back seat.

As we pulled out onto the main road I leaned over and whispered (in English) to my friend "Now do you believe me when I tell you there's something wrong with that spot?"

He just smiled and drove on.