Our route takes us past Tel Aviv's main Sourasky Medical Center, more commonly referred to as Ichilov Hospital. It's a beautiful, modern facility mostly thanks to the Arison Family - they own The Carnival Corporation and have poured mucho shekels into the hospital's slick departments, transplant units and research facilities.
Today as we passed Ichilov, there were about half a dozen busy bees working outside the front gates erecting what you see here.
I knew right away what they were but nervously joked with one of the men: "They're for washing sand off from the beach on the way home, right?"
He grinned.
"Are you doing this for the summer?" I asked with probably a wee hint of anxiety in my voice.
"No, no," he shook his head. But I'm not convinced.
They're chemical showers. So that in case Tel Aviv gets hit with a missile carrying a chemical warhead this scrubbing station will be put into action for affected victims prior to their hospitalization (should hospitalization be necessary, ahem)
"It doesn't matter, we'll die before we ever get close to the showers because there aren't enough gas masks to go around," my cousin Peggy joked when I relayed the news over the phone.
Ach. Garcon! A dirty Grey Goose martini straight up with olives please. Make it a double!
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