JEWS ON A PLANE

   I had a great idea. Instead of gutting and transforming my recent purchase of the Glen Wild shul, I thought I would clean it up, patch the plaster, oil the woodwork and open up a functioning synagogue, once again, in our little corner of the Catskills. Whose to say the spiritual leader of a fringe congregation couldn't branch out into a major belief system? Of course whenever I have any kind of idea (crackpot or otherwise) I run it by Shewho. "Whaddaya think?" I asked. I was met by stoney silence. Had the phone gone dead? Then I heard a deep sigh. "I'd think long and hard about that." Shewho's council was always welcome, but I also knew her to play it safe in most instances. "Come on." I insisted. "I get along with the Jews. It could be fun." I was picturing bar mitzvahs and weddings in the front, while I put the finishing touches on some penis sculpture in the back. "I think it would provide a nice balance to my work." I argued, as Shewho poo-pooed the idea. "I think you are asking for trouble." she warned. Maybe she was blaming the whole tribe for the sins of her ex-husband. "Assholes are of all faiths." I reminded her.
    Well, I no sooner hung up the phone than I spotted two Hassidic gentlemen standing in the middle of my lawn. Half way through my dinner, I went to the front door to see if I could help them. Upon seeing me, the one who wasn't wearing a telemarketer's head set asked "Vat is dis place?" in that accusatory tone, Hassidim seems to take, when spotting something they can't peg. That's a hard question to answer simply . "A church." is always the easiest. Having spotted the GOD LOVES FAGS sign in Hebrew, the talker continued the inquiry. "Why the Jewish? Are you Jewish?" I explained the difference between using the Hebrew language and being Jewish, as my dinner grew cold. The telemarketer frowned as the talker continued, not satisfied with any of my answers. "Is it for sale?"
"No."
"Is it old?"
"Look at it." I instructed, now getting a bit impatient. "Does it look old?" He turned and looked without saying anything.
"Do you have antiques in it?"
"No."
"I love antiques. Can we look inside?"
At this point I'd had enough of the inquisition. I excused myself to get back to my cold dinnere and shut the door. They stood in the middle of the lawn with puzzled looks for a while, and finally left. I called back Shewho. "You may be right." I conceded. She usually was.

This morning I read of an AirTran plane flying between NY and Atlanta with a group of 100 students from the Yeshiva of Flatbush, having to make an unscheduled stop, in order to remove all the students and their chaperones. It seems that this particular group of high school students, on their way to Six Flags, was so wound up that they would not sit down, nor turn off their cell phones. After repeated requests from the flight attendants, as well as the pilot, for the group to take their seats, they had to land the plane and remove the entire bunch. Now, in all honesty, this could've happened with any group of knuckleheaded high schoolers, hyped up on Red Bull and internet porn. The fact that they were all Jewish just makes for a great blog heading. I guess I'll just wait and see how my shul shakes out. Shalom kids.