such stories can be downright amusing. I’d say that the following story, that took place here in Jerusalem, is definitely among the latter.Our friend David, an Orthodox Jew and recent Oleh (immigrant to Israel), is an emergency room doctor in one of the Jerusalem hospitals. One day, what seemed like an entire Arab clan came into the ER to have the grandmother treated. After waiting for four hours, the patriarch of the family, in full Arab dress - kaffiyeh, the works - accosted my friend. He demanded to know why it was that ‘the Jews are all treated quickly while the Arabs are made to wait for hours.'' My friend did his best to explain that it is simply a matter of medical priority, and certainly nothing personal, or because of who they are. This did nothing to convince the Arab who was starting to get very angry, and getting into the doctor’s face. He started in on him, pointing his finger so close that it was almost touching David’s nose.Concerned that it was about to escalate out of control, David was about to make a further attempt to calm the man down when he got a quick whiff of something familiar from the man’s finger. Instantly David said, “Fahrenheit by Christian Dior?” Not every Arab-Jew story revolves around violence, politics or religion. In fact,
Totally startled out of his tirade, the man dropped his outstretched hand and said, “Yes, that’s what I’m wearing. How did you know?”David replied that he would know Fahrenheit anywhere. The Arab was totally impressed. Needless to say, they quickly became best buddies, all previous anger and the sick grandmother nearly forgotten. At that moment, in that place, for at least those few minutes, Jew and Arab were just two guys united by their appreciation of the same cologne.