Les Juifs France

So I was waiting at the airport in New York City with 40 kids that I was to see safely across the Atlantic Ocean. We were at JFK. And there were of course a fair amount of yarmulkes visible, it being New York, it's only to be expected. And there was this group of hasidic-looking young men who seemed to be waiting for my flight. They seemed like a very congenial group. Maybe five or six of them. I found myself watching with interest, hoping they would be on my flight, in fact.

Funny how things work out. The airline had somehow placed my seat about 20 rows back from the rest of the kids. So I arranged to move, from row 44 to row 26, where I was sitting next to a dark-skinned boy, one of the group. At that point, I still thought he was a New Yorker. And he was sleeping, so there was not much conversation. At one point, he even rested his head on my shoulder. I'm not sure if he ever became aware. But I didn't move him.

Anyway, it turns out he was not from New York at all. He was from Paris, and he and his friends had just finished a semester of special (I assumed he meant probably Jewish-oriented) business school in New York. So they were all French. And at one point, several of them came over to talk to my seat mate. So there I was, surrounded by yarmulkes and tassels, all talking French. I smiled to myself, but didn't say a thing. It was like G-d was guarding and guiding my journey, and they had no idea. They were just there. I was in awe.