Today was number 2. But it wasn't any easier. They said afterwards that it was a false, nothing to worry about. But can you not? It's a rocket for heaven's sake. Flying at you aiming to kill you. And when you hear that siren, you have 1 minute. 1 minute to stop what you're doing. 1 minute to run to a shelter. 1 minute to get in a building, or into a low lying area. 1 minute to live.
Today was number 2. Number 1 came at 2:00 AM on Saturday night. For some reason or another, I was awake. And sitting next to an open window. I heard it. And I did what any sane individual would do when hearing a rocket siren for the first time. Freak out. And I forgot my keys and was locked in the apartment, had to run back, got them, then couldn't calm my hands enough to open the door. I got the door open and ran downstairs. Luckily there's a shelter at the bottom of the stairs. And I ran in there an stayed for about 5 minutes with some of the Germans from my class. And we left. And everything was alright. We didn't know what was going on, but we were alright. It was only around 2:45 that the story broke. 1 rocket had fallen in the desert surrounding Beer Sheva. But in Netivot, about halfway between Beer Sheva and Gaza, a house was struck. Luckily the man living there woke up halfway through the alarm and was able to move to the bathroom just in time to save his life. Talk about a close call.
Today was number 2. September 11th. Not a good coincidence. I was sitting on my friend's balcony having a beer with him and another friend. And we finished our discussion on how surprised we were that there weren't any more rocket attacks recently, given the retaliation attacks from the IDF and IAF. And the discussion had moved to hilarious YouTube videos about learning a new language, when the alarms went off. We dropped everything except our beers and ran. Out of his apartment and down to the fourth floor, where there's supposed to be a shelter. But there are illegal tenants living in the shelters in his apartment. So nobody can get in there. NOT cool. But we stayed in the east-side stairwell for a minute or two, complained about the shelters, and went back upstairs to the balcony. My friend posed a good question afterwards, "At what point does this not make your heart stop when that siren starts going off?" I hope not soon.
That leaves me with the question of why the hell am I writing this post at 6 AM the morning of my Ulpan exam. Around 5:15, I was deep in the middle of a decent dream, when I thought I heard sirens in my dream. I ignored them at first, but a few seconds later panicked, woke up, and ran for the stairwell. After 5 minutes of nobody else being out there, I realised that I didn't actually hear anything. Which is a relief. And also not a relief. A relief in the sense of there was no reason to run, but at least I know I'm ready. Not a relief in the sense of is this going to happen every night a rocket comes? It's approaching the New Year, Rosh Hashanah, in Israel, and everyone prepares by donating a little extra to charity. Though, I think the Gazans could do with a bit less donating of their time and rockets this holiday season. שנה טובה...
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