So V, who had been taking Krav Maga classes for a while now, said we should go to a gun show. The International Krav Maga Federation (IKMF) Philippines was doing a demo around noon on Saturday. I’d never been to either a gun show or a Krav Maga demo, so I agreed to show up.
“Are you sure they’re just classes?” I asked. “I mean, what if you’d unwittingly signed up to serve in the Israeli army?” I heart the Jewish people and everything, but the Israeli army was a different class of awesome (when you’re surrounded by people who are forever trying to attack you, you had better be seriously badass) so I’m not sure they would want me. I get sore arms after rearranging my shoe boxes.
“You’ll be a soldier of Zion, but there will be no bacon,” I added.
“The food in Israel is really good,” S said. “Honestly, you won’t miss the bacon.”
“What about crispy pata?”
S told us about how she once bought, on a whim, a large loaf of bread from a vendor on the beach. “It was amazing. Better than anything at BreadSpeak*. And it had this cheese in it that was also amazing. They have really good food in Israel. Did I mention cheese? And there’s baklava.”
V was not sure she wanted baklava.
“You should tell your future commanding officer you don’t want Baklava,” I said. “I’m sure the Israeli army can feed you something else. Or you can send your baklava to me.”