Remember the family who watched Shlomo while Yitzchak and I went to the hospital for Tova’s birth?
So, the husband/father (let’s call him Manny) missed last night’s terror attack in Be’er Sheva. Here’s what happened:
Manny’s work often takes him abroad. He’s supposed to travel again next week. In preparation for this, Manny took a trip to Tel Aviv yesterday. He had finished his business in Tel Aviv and got on a bus back to Tel Aviv’s Central Bus Station, so that he could take a bus from Tel Aviv to Be’er Sheva, and then another bus home.
He got on the right bus, but going the wrong way. At some point he realized, got off the bus, and backtracked, landing in Tel Aviv’s Central Bus Station more than two hours later than he’d planned.
On the way, his cell phone died. Then, in Be’er Sheva, there was a terror attack. A terror attack, that every time we looked at the news – for at least two hours – the numbers kept going up.
Four people injured. Five people injured. Six people injured. Seven people injured, one dead. Nine people injured. Nine people injured, one dead. Two terrorists. One of the two terrorists may have been an infiltrator. No, the infiltrator wasn’t really a terrorist – we just *thought* he was. One terrorist. The person killed was a soldier.
Meanwhile, Manny’s family, knowing that his phone was off, and that he was supposed to be passing through the Be’er Sheva Central Bus Station at about the time of the attack was going nuts.
And I mean, going nuts. Biting their nails.
Is their father okay? Will they ever see him again?
When Manny finally got back to the Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, he was told that he couldn’t take a bus to Be’er Sheva, because Be’er Sheva’s Central Bus Station (Tachana Merkazit, okay? It’s shorter) was closed off after a terror attack.
Manny promptly asked, “Do you have a cell phone I can use?” He borrowed a phone, and at around 10pm, called his family up and told them that he was fine – but he was still in Tel Aviv.
Then he took a cab to B’nei Brak, and took a straight bus (meaning, it didn’t pass through Be’er Sheva) home from there.
Miracle. Major miracle.
Thank G-d he’s fine. I hope we *never* have to go through that . . . because it’s really scary.
I hope *nothing* ever happens to them, or to us. As we say here in Israel, “[May we live] until 120 [years]!”
As an aside, about a week ago, Yitzchak didn’t show up when I thought he would. And his phone was off. So I called up the local police station and asked if they were bored, or if there had been any action. Of course, they had *no* idea what I was talking about, or why I was asking. And I’m sure my explanation – my husband’s phone is off and he was supposed to be back half an hour ago – gave them a good laugh.
Well, I guess as long as they’re laughing and I feel stupid, everything is okay. I mean, they can’t really *blame* me for being worried, can they?