...The shababs [young rioters] soon noticed me, and while other press were in the area, I could tell that a few of them had begun looking at me strangely. Suddenly, one of them ran up to me, his face shrouded in a t-shirt, and he grabbed me by the straps of my backpack.

"You're an undercover cop!" he screamed in Arabic, a rock in his right hand as he grabbed onto me with his left.

"No, I'm a journalist!" I answered back, caught off guard at by the sudden jolt.

"No you're not- you're an undercover cop!" he screamed back. "Prove to me that you're not an undercover cop!"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my government-issued press card, thinking at the same moment that he would see the name of my publication, realize that it was an Israeli one, and my troubles would only grow.

But as he was scanning the card, another journalist, an Arab photographer, approached the both of us, and told the young man in Arabic that I was in fact a journalist.

"Enough, let him go," he told him. And the young man did as he said.

But as the shababs made their way past me - onward towards the officers - another Arab photographer, from an Arab news outlet, told me, "You should get out of here."...