Journey into Zionism: Purim is my favorite

You might say that I'm not the biggest fan of organized religion. However, I've recently discovered that synagogue is an untapped goldmine of hotties! The whole praying thing is totally my new favorite thing.

I reached this state of enlightenment while spending Purim with my uncle in Metar, a suburb of Be'er Sheva. I'm finding that one of the great things about Israel is that they have all these random made-up rules about holidays, like how Purim is observed a day late in cities surrounded by a wall; evidently, Jerusalem is encircled by some kind of structure, so I was able to have my hamentaschen and eat it too by celebrating day one with my family and day two at my current "home" in Yay-Ru. Side note - rather than calling the triangle-shaped cookies "hamentaschen," an Americanized PC term which means "Haman's hat," I've recently learned Israelis call them "ozneh-haman," or, "Haman's ear." I can't figure out why the label hasn't caught on in the States.

My uncle explained that the typical way of celebrating Purim is to dress up as some offensive stereotype, be it a Bedouin, a Hassid, or a settler, and then head to the local Shul for a Megillah reading in our native Hebrew before getting so drunk that the whole affair is actually enjoyable. I decided to save my costume for the premier night in Jerusalem, so I adorned street clothes and attended synagogue with my family dressed as an American volunteer in Israel, which apparently worked for me because I managed to snag myself a date for the night with one of the Megillah readers. And yes, getting picked up in front of your aunt and uncle is just as awkward as it sounds.

Me: Is it OK if I go out with this guy tonight? He wants to take me to look at the moon or something.

Uncle Moshe: Yeah, I've heard that one before.

As it happens, the moon thing wasn't just a line, and my "date" and three of his friends took me 90 kilometers away to Mitzpe Ramon. We drank Turkish coffee on a cliff that is so dark and windy at night that gazing out across the pitch-black expanse feels like you're standing at the edge of the world, or at least the end of modern civilization.

That's all nice and romantic, but I'm sure you are far more interested in hearing about my escapades (and, more importantly, my costume) of the following evening. Four of my closest friends and I dressed up as Taki cards, which probably means nothing to all of you unsophisticated non-Israeli readers. Taki can best be described as Uno on crack, because it basically expands on the thrilling card game we Americans all know and love by adding actions like "draw two" and "switch cards with the person next to you.”"The costumes were my idea, so I chose to be the best card of all: "Super Taki," which when played allows you to choose any color and then throw down ALL the cards in your hand of said color. Being Super Taki clearly required me to wear a cape, and obviously carry a light-up wand as well. Don't ask.

As you might have guessed, Purim night in Jerusalem is kind of like Halloween in a major American city, except for the fact that it was a whole mob of drunk Jews instead of the usual swarm of wasted college students. People were throwing firecrackers everywhere, the bars were far too overcrowded, and I had an excuse to gallivant around Ben Yehuda Street in a cape without looking like a total idiot. Some might say that we took the mitzvah of consuming excessive amounts of alcohol a little too far, but I say that I'm just finding my own path to Judaism. Maybe I'll even go to synagogue again!

Yeah, maybe not.