That's Life: Don’t fly on a Friday

Dear That’s Life,

As if catching a flight is not stressful enough, note to self: don’t fly on a Friday.  Shabbos could start at 8:11 p.m. and your flight could be scheduled to arrive twelve hours earlier but it does not matter. Unless you are a prophet and can be adequately confident that you will make it to your destination before candle lighting, book yourself a flight on a different day.  (And, by the way, if you are a prophet and want to spend some time with me  at the tables in Vegas, I’ll be happy to pay for your air fare.)

My father-in-law likes to say that everyone is separated by only six other people except in the Jewish community — we are all separated by just two. And if you haven’t yet found the two people that you have in common, you haven’t tried hard enough.

My friend’s daughter and her husband were flying home from their honeymoon and expected to arrive at JFK with plenty of time to spare before candle lighting. However, no one (except maybe Hillary) could have predicted the strength and ferocity of Hurricane Bill, or the extent to which it would impact flight paths to Long Island.  It was not as if the weather here was stormy or threatening but weather conditions up the coastline, along the approach to the runway, forced delays and cancellations of arriving flights.

It was 3:00 pm and the newlyweds were calling in a panic from the tarmac in Pittsburgh about what they were going to do for Shabbos;there was no end in sight to their delay and they could not, as yet, deplane.  Jewish geography being what it is, my friend realized she knew someone who was originally from Pittsburgh and who still had family there. Would they be willing to take in this stranded couple with only three hours until Shabbos — assuming they could get off the plane in the first place? Of course they would. And when the airline finally told everyone d to get off the plane, it seemed that they would.

Back and forth it went — were they coming? Or were they chancing a flight to JFK that might or might not be taking off at all?  Only when the soon-to-be host was graciously on his way to the airport to pick up the New York honeymooners did the airline inform the passengers that they would, in fact, be taking off and could be expected to arrive at JFK at around 6:00 pm. Deciding to chance it, the couple boarded the plane again and took their seats. The host, after being thanked profusely by the couple’s family, promptly turned around and headed home.  “Not to worry,” he told the family who felt badly about the lengths he had taken on behalf of the bride and groom. “This is what you do when you live out of town and I have done it before.” Truth is, this is what you do when you live ‘in town’ as well, and by that I mean, in the New York metro area. In fact, I would say, this is what you do when you’re a Jew.

A number of years ago, weary passengers who had landed ‘with Shabbos’ were escorted down Rockaway Turnpike by Hatzalah as they joined the Five Towns community for Shabbos with no more than a couple of minutes warning from rabbis in the area who had just been apprised of the situation. Just a couple of weeks ago, as I was lighting candles and making early Shabbos, my friend called to see if I knew anyone in Washington Heights where her brothers could ‘crash’  for Shabbos because they were not going to make it to Monsey. “Did I know anyone in Washington Heights?” “Well,” I thought, “there are a number of roshei yeshiva from YU who could take people in right before candle lighting.” So I gave her a name.

One might say that you could learn more than one lesson from all of these events: don’t fly on a Friday and always make some extra chicken — you never know who might show up at your door.

MLW

While packing for a recent trip to Israel, my wife reminded me to take   a power adapter. My youngest daughter, Abby, who was cheerfully helping   with the packing, asked what an adapter was. I explained that it was something that allows you to plug in electronic devices — like her iPod & Nintendo DS — so they could be used in Israel. “Wow,” she   exclaimed, “I can’t wait to play my DS in Hebrew!”