Working late tonight at 1:30am, I wanted a smoke but was out. So I headed on out to my local Chevron. The guy in front of me in line was chatting, rather knowledgeably, about the Hebrew language with the cashier. As I was buying my smokes, I continued the conversation with the cashier on the Hebrew language – he has studied it quite a bit through his Bible study, and we got to speaking about the old and new versions of the language. I told him about my time in Israel nearly three years ago and relayed a rather humorous language story that happened to me in Jerusalem.
David, Jamie, and myself were having lunch with Jamie’s friend Sean (from Phoenix but living in Jerusalem at the time) in the newer portion of Jerusalem, off of the trendy Ben Yehuda Street. I had to use the restroom and couldn’t find it in the two-story half-bookstore half-cafe restaurant. I ran into a waiter whom didn’t speak English. Using the little Hebrew I knew at the time, I asked in Hebrew if he could point the way to the restroom. Problem is, I confused the word “sharoutime” (restroom, roughly translated) with the word “sharoute” (taxi), and basically asked the waiter: “Excuse me, sir, where is your taxi so I can urinate?”
He was confused.
I view this experience as having been of great value, forever setting the two similiar words apart in my mind. Otherwise, this blog may have ended up being titled “Place to Urinate” in Hebrew.
Sharoute 
LMAO – cute story!