Stranger in My Lobby
 I’m back in my Tel-Aviv building with a single
thought whizzing through my head: “Throw myself as quickly as possible
on the warm sands of Goa Beach – here I come, India! Bye bye
Downtown-North-Tel-Aviv! Bye bye Frishman #12, second floor! Bye bye
Frishman branch of the First Bank of Stupidity! Catch my ass in Goa if
you can!
In the building I run into this gorgeous dude from India, of all
places. He’s such a walking charm! But wait… he’s not Indian, what was
I thinking…
“Tell me, you from India?”
“Tibet,” smiles Prince Charming like I’m his sister or something, “I am
new next door person,” he says in pretty good English and points at the
open door. His place looks pretty empty with only a thin mattress on
the floor, a backpack, and a guitar in the corner.
“How do you know I live next door if I didn’t go to my door yet?”
“It’s here says on door.”
“Says what?”
“It says on sign: HERE
LIVES IN PEACE LIBERTY O’MAN . You are Liberty,
yes?”
“Did you follow me to the shop or bank or something?”
“Just now come from Eilat town, but cannot miss. From all this Tel-Aviv
town only you can take this name Liberty O’Man.”
“How do you know???”
I would have kicked him down the stairs long ago if he was one of those
characters trying their stupid moves on me in the streets of Tel-Aviv,
like, every day. But he had something enormous, deep and powerful, like
the underground ocean in Joules Verne’s “Journey to the Center of The
Earth.” I couldn’t take my eyes off him! And he never ceased smiling at
me this pleasant and soft smile of his. Is he high on something? Nah,
can’t be – his presence is immense! Well then what’s he doing to me?
Maybe it’s India, Tibet, whatever. I can’t tell what he’s got – but
it’s huge and very magnetic!
“How do you know?” I asked again.
His face lit up – as if a real sunrise just came up inside. He offered
his hand: “John-Lee. Very please to meet you.”
As soon as I took his hand, it felt like thunder and lightning out of
the blue sky! An unexplainable tsunami of emotions flooded me, throwing
me to distant worlds, like I entered one of Roger Dean’s paintings...
Roger Dean's art: www.RogerDean.com
John-Lee continued and held my
hand with astonishing softness, looking deeply into my eyes. He was
flowing so pleasantly into me that there was no point in resisting.
Truth told, I have no idea how long we stood there, hand in hand.
Quarter of an hour? Half hour? Seemed more like a week. In the corner
of my eye I saw neighbors passing by, puzzling over us for a moment
then getting on their way. I was empty and transparent, absorbing this
guy like there’s no tomorrow. At a certain moment I felt an urge to say
something:
“John-Lee, you couldn’t have come at a better moment in my life.”
“I think is very cool,” he said with such a sweet oriental tone that
made him so huggable.
“Wanna come in for coffee?”
“After all you had today… maybe want something more quiet,” he said and
made some round gesture with his palm. He went over to his backpack and
I went to open my door. By the brief instant it took me to switch the
keys to my right hand, the Tibetan was back next to me, a cloth bag in
his hand. I looked at him with amazement. Does he always move that
fast, or is he trying to impress me? No, he didn’t pass as the usual
macho. I decided that I was up for more surprises before the day was
over, and opened my door.
His tea was soooooooo relaxing like you don’t know what. He made it
himself, in my kitchen, with smooth motions as if he’s been living here
for years. We sat on the balcony, watching the Tel-Aviv Riviera,
drinking in silence. I smiled at him from time to time and he smiled
back, as if we’re done asking all our questions and nothing left but
pure quiet fun. In fact, I had a million questions to ask but he gave
me such a feeling of nowhere to hurry. “No worry babe I’m here as long
as you need,” he silently said through his nirvana-hush.
I came closer to him, smiling. He came closer too and continued to
flood me with this flowing smile of his, looking so deeply into my
eyes. Any other guy would have tried and kissed me by now. And if they
didn’t? Then I’d be offended. But not with John-Lee, with him
everything’s different.
“Say, all Tibet guys are like you?”
“In all Tibet country there is not one guy like I am,” he said with
such a convincing but not authoritative tone, gave me a moment to
digest it and added: “And in all this town no girl like you are.”
I looked over to the sea, then to him, and back to the sea. I slowly
absorbed the idea. I observed the events of the day and checked this
idea against this phenomenal meeting with a complete stranger. HAY,
HO, GOD, I KNOW WHAT THIS CUTIE'S TRYINA TELL ME! I
grabbed John-Lee’s arm: “Dude, I got what’s coming down! It’s my sweet
God – she sent you to me!!!”
He shrugged his shoulders, with a wide smile and a mischievous eyebrow.
He uttered not a word but if you looked at him at that moment you’d see
what he was silently saying: “No problem, babe, no problem. Cool.”
I wanted to hug him but stopped myself. I’m not his girlfriend or
nothing, and besides, maybe he’s already married to three stunning
Tibetans. Seems like he can get ten fantasy babes for breakfast, what,
like no sweat.
“Tell me, John-Lee, how did you get here anyway?”
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