This was all so patently wrong, but I’ve always been lousy at saying no gracefully.
That’s my plane policy, and up ‘til now it’s been a good one. But as I boarded the El Al plane to New York one spring afternoon and gave my polite nod to the young man sitting next to me, I just knew I was in trouble.
First of all, the guy was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt with some Israeli tourist slogan on it and a big brown cowboy hat. Not the kind of guy, in my experience, who tends to keep to himself. Second, as soon as I turned in his direction, he stuck out a hand, grabbed my fist, and pumped it up and down for about 20 minutes.
“How ya doin’, buddy? What a stroke of luck! A real live Orthodox Jew sittin’ next to me! I always wanted to meet one. And now we have 12 whole hours together. Divine Providence, that’s what I call it, Divine Providence!”
It was going to be a long flight.
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