'This is a crap place,' whispered a man in his forties sitting next to me, in an East Jerusalem accent. 'There is no future here.'
Last Friday, our weekly columnist realized he is both a racist and an idiot.
'Do you have any Arab coffee?' the electrician from East Jerusalem asked.
What will she say? I traveled to Israel, I ended up with a Palestinian family? Do you know what that will do to her self-confidence?
'Do you smoke?' was the first question my father-in-law-to-be asked.
I'm afraid of fire. Fire and water, my grandmother used to say, are the worst ways to die. I tried to reassure myself, thinking that it's a Jewish holiday after all.
True, we Arabs are not the country’s champions in poverty, overcrowding, crime, road accidents and drowning in the sea; but when it comes to women - and sorry about the generalization - I think Arab women are the most beautiful in the world.
'I can’t feel my legs,' said my wife. 'Don’t move,' I yelled to her and my daughter until the gunfire stopped.
My daughter smiled at me when she saw I was about to choke, writes Sayed Kashua.
What is the proper Arab reaction to the strange prohibitions against eating bread on Passover and driving on Yom Kippur?