Weekends in J town

I would really like for Saturday to be my Day of Rest day. It's supposed to be. But Hubby was busy on Friday and couldn't visit my Ex-Criminal daughter who is now in a hostel so we -had- to visit her on Saturday. I stayed up late to see Matisyahu, the Jewish Chassidic reggae singer. Hubby didn't want to go and I asked my Good Daughter if she'd join me. There were loads of young American kids, whose parents would send for them immediately, if they had seen or heard how they were acting out of their religious schools for an evening out.

"Are you high? Are YOU HIGH?!!" shouted one young one on line with us to his female friends. He was wearing Orthodox Jewish garb and was annoyingly loud.

"If you're so friggin' high, do you mind getting lower?" asked my friend.

We took our places close to the stage - two American teens took seats besides us.

"When is that mother fucker coming on stage already? Huh? Damn fuckin' motha fucka"

My daughter sneered at me - "THIS is why I don't go out with Americans"

I protested - "I'm sure they're not all like that."

The music was groovy, the place was packed and the sound was better sitting in the back with the old folks my age. The show ended after midnight and I was feeling it. My days of clubbing seem to be over.

Saturday we took my daughter out for coffee. The only place open nearby was in the Arab neighborhood of Shuafat.

"I'm not eating there. I'm not eating at an Arab restaurant!" said my daughter. She looked very uncomfortable. I was a bit stunned that she would feel like that, and I wondered if I were a bit like Hubby - an Archie Bunker clone - would she then rebel and feel nicer towards the non-Jews in this town? But I won, as usual, and we sat down to drink Arabic coffee.

"What if they put something in it" she asked.

"Well we'll soon find out, won't we?" as I slugged back the invigorating brew. She needs to be back home with me where she'll get her weekly dose of love and peace to everyone from her mother.