No Regrets!

It’s Thursday night, the big night to go out in Israel. And I felt like I needed one more taste of Israeli nightlife before going home. Somehow, I mustered up enough energy to go out.

I picked a place called Haoman 17, which according to one of my guides is one of the best clubs in the world and a conveniently short walk from our hotel. I copied a map onto my phone, cleaned myself up a bit, and headed out.

The walk took me through a neighborhood of sketchy apartment blocks, stray cats, and used car dealerships. Heard the music from around the corner and finally found myself standing in front of it.

From the outside, Haoman 17 looks like a warehouse shithole. There was a crowd of people at the gate by the street yelling at two bouncers and pushing to get inside. The bouncers were not shy, yelling and pushing back whenever they were tested.

None of the bouncers spoke English. I observed for a few moments before walking in. They quickly patted me down, and then I walked to the second gate, where more people were yelling at the bouncer and pushing to get in. Really, is all the screaming necessary? Not my style, so I patiently waited and observed some more.

Seemed like this bouncer was arbitrarily allowing people into the club. It wasn’t based on the order you arrived or what you were wearing, and nobody was giving him money. You were either selected or you were not. I was not. After a few minutes, the bouncer motioned with his hands to back up and told everyone who was left to leave, so I returned to the street.

Outside the gate again, I tried to be friendly with one of the bouncers. Older, beefy Russian guy. I asked him what was going on and what I had to do to get in, and he just shook his head. He spoke almost no English, but he managed to tell me that he had family in New York City and that he had never been there himself.

People continued to push, and predictably, a fight broke out at the gate. As the fight pushed out onto the street, the bouncers started yelling at and manhandling each other. The whole scene was tense and chaotic.

I waited for the ruckus to die down before asking my Russian bouncer friend if I could come in. He shook his head, and I gave up.

I’m not sure why I didn’t get in. Was it because I wasn’t yelling and pushing? Did I not have the right look? Was I not wearing enough black? Charm and a little patience will usually get you into a club at home, but not here.

At least I gave it a shot. Having gone and been denied, I have no regrets.