Meet Tom

I don’t drink cocktails with names. Even more so, cocktails with umbrellas, a good cocktail can sustain the rain. But, and forgive me here bartenders, I’ll add ice into anything and throw it in a blender, in the right circumstances. Beach, sun and a cold alcoholic drink in hand, are the Holy Trinity for a successful vacation. Unfortunately, here in the Dominican Republic, I can not escape the names given to cocktails. Maybe it’s because everything here is based on rum, a solid foundation for all opinions, and to not be confused they give them signs. Maybe it’s the tourists who want an exotic experience in everything. Morons. Either way, it drives me crazy. Here are some examples: Cuba Libre (Rum and Coke), Santo Libre (Rum and Sprite), Penny Reaper (Rum and Pineapple juice) Mojito (Rum, Mint and Lime), Pina Colada (Rum, Malibu and Pineapple juice), Daiquiri (Rum and whatever juice you want), Black Caribbean (Rum and Kahlua), and more. Notice a recurrent theme? Tom Cruise said it best in the all-time classic movie Cocktail “Bitch!, why didn’t  you just say a Rum and Coke”.

I always had this fantasy to work in a bar on the beach in the Caribbean.
Like Tom Cruise I’ll have killer one liners and I would throw a lighted match to a hot bikini on the bar. Then some chick will run screaming and ask for help, and I’ll jump over the bar and show her what I’ve learned in first aid course in the military, and while I tend her friend, I’ll flirt with her, and if her friend is hotter than her, we’re in a mess. I’d put them on an ambulance to the hospital and return to my spot at the bar.There I’ll go on and on about how I saved her and how it’s nothing, I saw much worse things while in the military. “Yaffe stay with us, Yaffe stay with us.” That’s what I heard when they put me in an irrigation ditch and took off my clothes to see what was hit. For my part, I thought I sustained no injury except for maybe something in my leg. I think back on it and laugh, pause for a second and move on.

Back to the bar on the beach. They’ll be playing annoying Calypso music and I would wear a Hawaiian shirt, stupid. Ah, the good life. Meanwhile, I’m settling with cold coffee, without ice and without a blender. C’est la vie. On my next trip I intend to take with me a shaker and blender, and perhaps even a juicer. In recent years, I developed a strange habit of drinking vegetable juice in the morning. Beets, Oranges, Pomegranate and Celery. Add to that a little mint and fresh red chili, and you’ll fly. Take my word for it.

Let’s start with Tom. I’ve known Tom since he was six. I’m five years older than him and he’s actually my younger brother Amotz’s best friend. Menahem, chill out! Over the years Tom and I became good friend. When I think about it, Tom was my partner in most of the festivals in England. This year will be our fifth consecutive year going to Reading Festival in England. An impressive achievement by any standards. Tom is what triggered the whole story of coming here in the first place. It all started by a phone call. “Pancho! where you at?” A brief clarification, everybody calls me Pancho. It started with my mother who called me Harancho Pancho when I was a kid, and now it’s just Pancho. “I’m coming over,” Tom continued, and about an hour later we were sitting at a bar in Tel Aviv sipping Fernet Branca and Guinness. “I decided to fly somewhere,” he said, “a place with a beach, sun and Spanish. You coming?” I won’t lie to you, I didn’t answer immediately, it took me two days to say yes. But here we are, each with his own goals, with his own purpose and his own books.

If I had to choose three things to describe Tom to you I’d go with: he loves rice, he can’t sit still for one minute, and he’s always positive. Of course he’ll say that I’m exaggerating or that I’m just wrong, but he will agree with the rice, he just really loves rice, and condiments. Lots of condiments. Sit down and eat with him and you’ll see a plethora of bottled colors and flavors. Ketchup, mustard, chili, sweet chili, soy sauce, black pepper and all that is available to him at that moment. Each bite will be dressed in a different flavor. Moreover, he really likes weird textures and combinations of hot and cold. I can’t really understand the what and the how, but surely he’s strange kid. He suffers from heartburns and he’s still recovering from a parasite, respectfully earned in India, so he tries to avoid certain foods. Trying is the keyword. His head is covered with childish curls that stay the same length for three years now, a phenomenon in itself. That head is filled with nonsense and Tom is able to cite almost every non relevant line from any movie he has ever seen. Test him once, it’s hilarious. His head is a dumpster for the irrelevant.

Beyond that,  Tom is truly one of the best man I know and one of the few that I can spend time with them for a long time. He’s also one of the few who can spend time with me, which is not easy at all. Most people think I’m crazy, tiring and an idiot. But what do they know, they are all boring and lacking in imagination. About them and about my opinion on the world and the people who live in it, as in you, in future posts.

Ciao