A pair of soldiers with M16 rifles slung over their shoulders approached our minivan. But the soldiers one short and heavyset, one brazenly flirtatious presented more of a comedic, than fearsome front. My mother explained the situation. The fast-paced, Hebrew conversation punctuated with hand gestures bounced between argument and negotiation.
The soldiers began pointing toward my sister and me. There was agreement. The gate opened. We drove through, turned around, and stopped. My mother explained: The soldiers wanted pictures with my sister and me.
We posed for several photos, worrying more about what the soldiers would try than their weapons. The soldiers insisted upon both group and couple shots before a backdrop that revealed nothing of the base we had stumbled upon. Despite the M16 magazine poking my side, I smiled gamely. My sister did the same, though she stood at arms length from the heavyset soldier.
Pleased with the photo op, the soldiers let us go after asking us to send prints.