Floating or not this is still a restaurant, and you are not to bring your own. Voices rise higher, his minions circle, their makeshift napkin skullcaps flapping. The waitress, expressionless, stands her ground. She is too young to be grateful for Western capitalism. No one intercedes.
Tourism is too important.
Finally God decides, setting the sun. The Israeli turns his back on the girl, pops his cork and intones the Baruch'ha, loudly, in Hebrew. She stalks away, filled with hate. I am enraged. How dare he speak to her, to anyone like that.