Jesus Christ vs. Nancy Pelosi

As I walked through the dark corridor in Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which houses the places where Jesus was crucified and entombed, I saw several stern-faced men in suits walking towards me. As they turned to walk down the stairs to the Saint Helena Chapel, footsteps echoing off the stone walls, a dignified, older woman emerged from behind them. She was listening intently to a monk cum tour-guide, and while my friends stuttered in their efforts to place her, her face immediately registered in my mind.

"Holy crap, it's Nancy Pelosi!" I whispered.

I've had kind of a weird older-woman crush on Nancy for about two years now. I was ecstatic at my golden opportunity to make an impression, take a chance, get her number... I forgot where I was going and what I'd come to Jerusalem for, and followed her down the stairs to the chapel. We waited several minutes for her tour to take her back up the stairs. My friend snapped a few odd-looking pictures of my head in the foreground and Ms. Pelosi's hair in the background. I only wanted to shake her hand, and my waiting paid off. She and her entourage took to the stairs, and I asked an aid if I could shake her hand. She heard me ask, turned her head and smiled wide. I reached my hand over to her, shook hers and said, "Ms. Pelosi, I just want to shake your hand and say that I respect you very much." She thanked me and asked my friends and me where we were from. We told her, and she thanked us again and moved on.

This is the first famous person I've met. Unfortunately, she didn't offer me a job or even her phone number, so I decided that Jesus, at that moment at least, would take precedent over Nancy Pelosi. I didn't follow her, but rather continued with my tour of the church. My thoughts for the rest of the day, however, were with Nancy, not Jesus. Sorry JC.

If I felt like my life was worth writing about, I'd be updating this thing way more than I have been. Actually, I won't even venture to say that I'm updating it now. It's more of a courtesy message, because I can't help but feel guilty that I'm keeping friends and family so in the dark.

I can't stand reading those blog messages that detail people's every boring minute, every trivial purchase, every uneventful venture out of the county (that's county, not country). Unless you can be funny about it, then I'll read it. But I don't have the talent to make a trip to the local Islamic supermarket seem even remotely interesting. Maybe if the cashiers there would do something more entertaining than laugh their asses off whenever I try to speak Turkish with them, I might have some decent material. I'm not even initiating the conversation with them, by the way. They ask me a question, I respond, they laugh. Real nice.

Well anyway, here's a bit of news for ya: I'm going to Israel this Saturday. Some friends are coming from the States to visit me, and we're all gonna go get a look at land-apartheid first hand. Maybe I shouldn't say that. The Israelis may be reading my blog. Anyway, it will be amazing. I'll upload some pictures when I get back and maybe I'll have a story or two. Shalom (that was so cliche, but I couldn't resist).