This is a game I love playing, especially at airports. I’m thinking that couple is Israeli. I can’t hear them; they’re sitting a couple of rows ahead of us in the airport. They’re not sitting together. I know they’re a couple because they are talking and she brought him food before. Not kosher, a good indication that they’re Israeli. The woman security guard (the one who watches the first line at the check-in—not really security but I’m not sure what the formal name is) asked us if we were travelling with the fellow in front of us. I wanted to shout out “NO!!” but we just said no. He was definitely Chabad; she made a reasonable assumption; hat-hat, travel buddies. Oh! They’re trading money now. All American dollars. I think you’d be looking at your money if you’re going to use a different kind, no? They have not smiled. Another sign, no? She looks like many Hebrew teachers I’ve known. Tough, no-nonsense. He looks like he gives back as hard as he gets. Who knows? He could even be our travel agent. The fellow who is across from us is definitely American via another Asian country. Most people at the airport are pasty-faced Americans. We’re all due for some sun and heat.
They didn’t get on our flight. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t Israeli, of course. I guess I’ll continue to wonder, then.