Segways and Sakharof

Yesterday I rode up and down the beautiful Tel Aviv coast on a Segway. Now that I've been on one, it has given me new sensitivity to the plight of the less fortunate non-Segway riding population in our midst. I feel for you poor unfortunate souls, and I encourage you to remember that there are still valuable roles in society that your kind of people can fill. Fixing Segways, for example, or leveling roads and clearing away the debris from in front of my Segway.

Me (trenchcoat) and coworkers at Shlomo Lahat Promenade in Tel Aviv

If you want to know what it's like to ride a Segway, just imagine it: it's pretty much just like that, except less bikini-babes (what's wrong with you?) and you can't do jumping tricks with it like you can on a bicycle. You get to high-five random strangers as you float above them, however. After a minute with my robotic extension, I knew that returning to my previous human powered ambulatory legged-life was going to be a letdown, a momentum remundanity. Sheesh, I have to walk? This sucks.

We didn't do much other than ride up and down Tel Aviv's main coast, but the sun was shining, the waves were high, and the rocky promenade was gorgeous. It got chilly.

Sunday evening I had food and drink at Jem's beer factory, one of a number of new Israeli micro-breweries. This one was co-founded by a guy in my synagogue, but he wasn't around for me to greet. The evening's entertainment was an intimate performance by Berry Sakharof, whose name I was not familiar with but whose songs I knew from the radio. There's nothing like a professional performer closeup. Unfortunately, it's not my usual musical style; I would have enjoyed it more with either my daughter or step-daughter, who are familiar with him and Israeli music in general, to enjoy it with me.

Berry Sakharof at Jem's microbrewery in Petach Tikveh

That's two work-related outings in a week, which is two more than typical.