I was 400 feet away from catching up to my family in New York City's Celebrate Israel Day parade walking with Stand With Us, before a Jewish mother with a thick New Jersey accent blocked my path and yelled, “I’m going to have a police officer ask you to leave!” To be fair, she did warn me she was going to do it, so at least I got a heads-up. Before I could even muster up a response she beckoned a police officer (a super cute one) over and said to him, “She is marching with my group, and I don’t know her, and I want her out of the parade.” Ouch. The stick up her ass was so far up that it alarmed me. I was concerned for her health. Did she need medical attention to get it removed? This lady is crazy, I thought to myself, but this rational, hot police officer will defend me.

Rational, my ass. Aside from his good looks he was absolutely useless to me. I waved my yellow bracelet in both their faces and panted, “I’ve been checked in and everything! I’m supposed to be marching with my family in the green neon shirts, see!” I said, pointing to my shirt. I even whipped out my hamsa necklace as a pathetic last attempt to prove that I wasn’t a terrorist attacking from within, but rather a sweaty, Jewish girl just trying to celebrate Israel. The staff working the parade sitting on a golf cart next to me didn’t offer to give me a lift, but they did drive past me moments later as I headed back down Fifth Avenue and stared at me pitifully. Before I escorted myself off the premises the officer made some failed attempt at making it look like he had tried to help me, but I walked away and said, “You know what dude? Forget it.”

I marched in the Celebrate Israel Day parade every year with my Jewish day school up until for some reason, unbeknownst to anyone (because why would a Jewish day school opt to schedule a huge event on the same day as another huge Jewish event?), my high school planned graduation on the same day as the parade. As a member of the Golden Ochtaves (Golda Och Academy can thank yours truly for coming up with that name) choir group I was required to miss the parade every year to perform at graduation. Finally, after six consecutive years of missing great free t-shirts, I was finally able to go.

I forgot that I had made plans to spend a weekend at my friend’s beach house, so I had to wake up early (early as in college-kid-early, as in 9 o'clock in the morning) on Sunday morning to make it back to Manhattan on time for the parade. I took my sweet ass time during breakfast and left a half hour later than planned. If I had known how much trouble drinking a cup of coffee would get me into I would have just skipped the caffeine and pinched myself to stay awake during my commute. When I realized how late it was, I ran out the door, hopped in the car and dropped my car off at my dad’s place. Then I ran to the PATH train station wishing I had put on a sports bra and read Sara Colonna’s book, "Life as I Blow It" (a great read that will make you buy her second book, "Has Anyone Seen My Pants?" And yes, she is paying me write this) until I reached my stop and speed-walked, with arms pumping, to the parade’s check-in.

By now, my tank top was pretty soaked with sweat, but it was cool because my brother had a free t-shirt waiting for me at the check in. He works for Stand With Us and is a pretty big deal, but most importantly, he always has the hook-up for free Jewish stuff. I brought a pair of scissors with me to cut the t-shirt which I was surprised security let me keep when I went through. The guy actually said, “I dunno, it looks like a weapon to me,” winked, and let me through the gates. But like, what if I actually was a terrorist trying to attack from within, and those scissors were a weapon?

So there I was, ready to join the march, with my bracelet on hand, t-shirt over my shoulder and a vibrant love for Israel. I passed by a ton of floats blasting Israeli music and one float blasting Kanye West which got me pumped to join the festivities. Everywhere I looked there were Jews. Orthodox Jews, Conservative Jews, Conservadox Jews, Reformed Jews, Awkward Middle School Jews, Jewish American Princesses and Nice Jewish Boys crawling the streets of New York. It was no different than any other day.

“Shoshana! Can you hear me? Where are you?”

“Do you see me, Jacob? I’m across the street”

“Sarah, hold hands with your sister!”

Swarms of organizations in their vibrant colored t-shirts got in my way as I walked as fast as I could up Fifth Avenue towards Stand With Us.

After several hours of strenuous traveling, I could finally see my mom’s straw hat and the back of my brother’s head, just a mere 400 feet away from me. They were so close to me I could almost smell them or maybe I was just smelling my own body odor. When that lady had me thrown out of the parade, I was pissed that all my effort had been for nothing. I could have slept in at my friend’s gorgeous beach house and even have had two cups of coffee at breakfast if I felt like it. Instead, I was at the receiving end of a woman who was probably going through some personal stuff and displaced her anger on me instead of her husband and kids. I felt defeated. I traveled hundreds of miles for absolutely nothing.

Since the parade, I’ve let my feeling of defeat fester and turn into anger and then to pity. At first, I was mad that I inconvenienced myself for nothing. Then I was mad that a woman in charge of children dismissed a fellow Jew trying to salute Israel so rudely and inappropriately. The pity kicked in when I tried to rationalize her behavior and figure out why she acted the way that she did. Most likely she is an awful person and shouldn’t be put in charge of kids. I feel bad that she sucks so much, and I also pity the kids who have to listen to her. So, to the woman who had me kicked out of the Israel Day Parade: if you ever see this, I hope you’re experiencing tremendous amounts of Jewish guilt, and thank you for inspiring my Instagram caption.