Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler

By Shmuel Goldstein

PROLOGUE:
As Lornas eyes widened in disbelief, she looked at the flight reservation. Then at me and then back at the reservation and said, You
shouldnt be here! Those were the words that set my mind in a whirlwind of reflection and allowed me to glimpse at how the marvelous
pieces of the puzzle started to fit. Boy! Was it a bewildering puzzle!

A
s someone whose responsibility is to put together a weekly newsletter for a local synagogue, I get the
opportunity to look over the articles submitted. This past week was the Torah portion of Shelach, and its
theme was about looking at seemingly negative occurrences through a positive lens. This was the mistake
that the spies, who were sent by Moshe, had committed. As they journeyed, all they saw were negative incidences.
Had they dug just a little deeper, or waited to see how things would result, they would have realized how positive
these experiences actually were. Isnt this a challenge for many of us?

Well, suffice it to say, over the next few days I too was set off on a journey and was given a set of Murphys Law of
happenstances that would have riled up anyone in my shoes.

Lets set the stage for this story. About a week ago, my adopted Bubby had passed away at the amazing age of 101
years old. She was the regal matriarch of an incredible family and I had the obligation, but not the means to travel
to Brooklyn, to comfort my fellow adopted family members. They are truly like family to me in so many ways. To
explain this would go beyond the scope of this story.

So as I sat in my office, contemplating whether I should strive to go right away (very expensive) or wait for the
customary 30 day gathering that would follow in a few weeks (less expensive) Mendy W., a friend who I havent
seen in close to 35 years banged on my window of the office looking for some information. His sons wedding was
that night, to a girl based here in South Florida. As we exchanged a warm embrace and a few memories, he
extended his condolences to me. Knowing that I was very close to Mrs. Friedman who had just passed away, he
asked me if I was planning to go to NY to comfort the family. Unfortunately, I cant due to my financial situation,
I replied. I had been unemployed a few months and only started recently a half-day position working in that
synagogue. Without hesitation, he quoted the Lubavitcher Rebbe who had stated that it brings great merit when a
father gives tzedaka (charity) in honor of the Chasan (groom) and Kallah (bride) on the day of their wedding, and
that this provides a great protection to them. So my friend continued by saying, Go online, find a ticket and
WhatsApp me an image - Ill take care of it. It will be my zchus (merit and honor) and dont forget to come by
tonight to say a LChaim at the wedding!

Wow! I said to myself. So this is what it means to be a Lubavitcher Chassid.

Firstly you should know, I would never think of asking ANYONE for financial help. You can call it being macho,
or call it self-dignity. I just feel that if HaShem hasnt provided me with the means, it is not meant to be.
Nevertheless, this was family. Such a significant time would not present itself again. I was there when Zaidy passed
away 13 years ago and I should be there now as well. A special time to share in the memories and life lessons of
Bubby Friedman, a great woman like this, would surely not present itself like this again...ever.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

So with great excitement and anticipation of seeing all of my extended family, who would surely be there, I went
online to make a reservation. It was Tuesday and there was no time to waste, since I would have to be there by this
Friday. A flight in three days? This could work! After checking site after site, I realized that this was truly an
expensive ticket. I certainly didnt want to overstep my friends generosity, so I kept looking for ways to get a better
ticket online. Occasionally I sent him some screen shots via WhatsApp and waited for his response. While waiting
for his response (which never came since the number I used didnt work), I continued to look.

I then decided to try Googles Flight Checker. Some acquaintances of mine had gotten some great deals that way in
the past so I decided to figure out how to use this method.

After hastily putting in the dates, I initially saw a reasonably priced ticket that was hyperlinked to the American
Airlines website. So I asked myself, Why risk doing it online when I could just as well call a representative on the
phone? So I called customer service and waited and waited and waited. Typical. When at long last I got
through to an agent, they gave me a ridiculous price that was almost double of what it was online! When I told her
that their own website had it for half, she responded by saying, Get it quick! So back to the site I went and now
the link was no longer working. Ughhhh! Just for the record, I dont like traveling.

Back I went quickly to go through Googles portal and the price jumped up another $50! Rather than wasting more
time, I decided to take a screenshot and send it again, as my friend requested. As he didnt respond, I tried calling.
No answer and time was ticking. I knew that the more time past the more expensive it would be. I couldnt do
that to him. You shouldnt take advantage of someones kindness in that way. I thought to myself, maybe I should
just buy it myself, with my own credit card. After all, isnt that what credit cards are for? This situation calls for a
credit card! So out the plastic card came and I quickly bought the ticket, feeling somewhat relieved that it was done.
If I thought that this was stressful, I was in for a surprise.

That night I went to say a LChaim to my friend and thank him for his incredible generosity and kindness. I told him
that I had sent him pictures as he requested. Knowing he was quite busy that day of the wedding, I didnt want to
bother him in the slightest. That would be rude. Little did I know until the writing of this story, that he NEVER
received the price quote images. Another ughhh? Mendy told me that he would come by my office on the next
day and help me with the ticket.

The next day came and I reached out to my friend to tell him that I was at the office, awaiting his arrival. 1pm came
and past, 2pm 3pm. I gently nudged him by sending him another text asking him if I could quickly go out for
lunch or wait for him. He arrived shortly thereafter and provided me with needed cash to cover the ticket and
more. I thanked him profusely and again wished him many blessings for himself and his family.

I was thankfully able to arrange a place to stay in Crown Heights by a dear friend of mine, Akiva. I had spent some
time with him this past winter together with my daughter, Esti. (That was an exciting time indeed. Twenty two
inches of snow!) With a place to stay now, I had another piece of the plan come through, thank G-d.

Later that night I called my eldest son, Peretz, to see if he wouldnt mind taking me to the airport early Friday
morning around 5:30am. My flight was at 7am and I thought this would be enough time. Since he is usually up at
that time to go to minyan around 6am, he said it would be fine. Another piece done.

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A friend of mine offered to pick me up from the airport at JFK and also take me to the Ohel. They would then
bring me to Crown Heights. All was set. All looked well. My plans were working out.

That night of course, I made last minute preparations. I sent out a Facebook message for others to send their
names since I would be visiting the Ohel, the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe to daven. Not much else to
do, after all, it would be a simple easy trip. 1-2-3.

That night, I had a bit of a restless sleep, tossing and turning. Not out of the ordinary lately. Finally got up after 4
hours of sleep and dressed quickly. At 5:40am I texted my son to tell him I was ready. No answer. I continued
to prepare some last minute items and called him around 5:50. He sounded really tired but said hell be right over.
When he came, he had told me, I hope you dont mind but I ordered you a Lyft Car Service. Theyll be right
here.

As I was in no position to start complaining, I waited for a few moments and the Lyft driver showed up shortly
thereafter around 5:55am. Off I went to the Miami airport.

It was now 6:15 am with no time to spare. After quickly getting out of the car and into the terminal, I searched
quickly for an American Airlines representative to lead me to the fastest location to get my boarding pass. I was
incredibly nervous when I saw so many lines, packed with people trying to get from point A to point B.

At first, I instinctively went to the area where the agents were at the counter, only to see a sole representative who
was re-directing all the people to the kiosks. It was chaos. The lines for the counter were closed off to us simple
folk, I surmised. I stood behind a couple of people, waiting to speak with the agent who then directed me to a
kiosk area.

I thought to myself, I have time I have time - its only about 6:15 am.

As I went to the area where the kiosks where, I saw some very long lines of people. This is not where I want to go!
Then I saw some small lines of people - green light, here we go!

There I stood behind another few people. Some Spanish speaking couple who were at the kiosk looked incredibly
frustrated trying to operate the machines interface. This was not looking good. I scanned the other kiosk and
decided not to jump from my line to another (like I usually do at the supermarket), it was too risky. As the Spanish
couple left with a look of disgust on their face, I could see that they didnt conquer the machine. It is a real battle
sometimes to figure out what buttons to push, and they both looked defeated. I watched as they went back to the
same agent who directed me. Could it be that the machines were not working?

Now it was my turn at the beast, to see if I could possibly tame this electronic demon. I looked down at the
machine and realized that the previous couple were Spanish speakers since it was all in Espaol. I figured out what
button to push to get it back to English. As an unseasoned traveler, I was confused but continued pushing some
buttons only to realize that it wasnt accepting my information for some reason. Finally I saw that this kiosk was
only for those not checking in a bag! Frustrated, I too went back to the agent and stood behind them as well. All
my professional button pushing techniques failed.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

When I finally got the agent - again - she directed me to the longer lines. A complete look of exasperation washed
over my face as I showed her my information. I had a 7 am flight to catch! She lifted up the retractable rope and
allowed my access to the agent at the counter. Hurriedly, I ran forwards, asking others if I could go ahead of them,
explaining my urgency. I reached the agent and told her that my flight is at 7 am!

Do you ever remember hearing those nasally sounding phone operators? Just imagine that style of voice as she told
me, Im sorry sir, but your flight information has been closed from my system and I cant help you. There is
nothing I can do as the flight has already boarded and my system will not let you board the flight.

My mind raced to think of a solution. Here it was Friday, the eve of Shabbos when traveling is always beset with
issues. Thoughts of all my plans to visit my family now seemed irrevocably changed. Ughhhh! I said to my son
over the phone. I missed my flight! I felt so incredibly deflated, helpless and embarrassed. Did I ever mention
that I hate traveling?

It was now about 6:20 am. Terribly disappointed, I angrily asked the agent to speak with a supervisor (as if this
would ever help). The supervisor came over and I tried to explain my frustration at the ineptness of the initial
representative who kept misdirecting me to the wrong area. I told the supervisor, Had I been told to go the
correct place right away, I would not have missed my flight. In an authoritative tone she casually said, If you were
here two hours before your flight, you would not be in this position.

She was correct. I was late. It was as clear and decisive an answer as the hands on the clock were - which showed
6:24 am. What are my options? I meekly replied. She said that she could book me on a 1pm flight to JFK that
would arrive 5pm.

My head spun. 5pm?!!! Oh no, that is really a risk, I thought. What if there is a delay? Do I really want to walk
from JFK to Crown Heights? Can I really take this gamble? But Shabbos wasnt till 8pm and I could still make it.
Couldnt I?

I said to the supervisor, Do it, please!

She then printed out a boarding pass for a 1 pm flight. They also took my baggage to check it in for the later flight.
At least I wont have to worry about it later. I then asked the agent very carefully, What will happen with this
luggage? She told me, Instead of picking it up from the baggage carousel claim area, you should pick it up from
the customer service area where it will be waiting. How many of you readers have spent a Shabbos weekend with
your clothes somewhere in a bag, lost in the airport?

As I took the boarding pass, I texted my son again to help get me back to North Miami Beach, as staying in an
airport for six or more hours would have driven me nuts.

Got home and posted to my Facebook friends (especially those who had asked me to daven for them at the Ohel)
the following: So angry!!! Missed flight because of an inexperienced attendant.

My plans to going to the Ohel were gone. My plans for getting picked up would also unlikely happen. Of all the
responses, one came from a Moises C. who said, There must be a reason...hopefully you will have the Zechus

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

(merit) to see Yad Hashem (the hand of G-d)...in this. To be honest, his remark made me feel ashamed. Ashamed
because of my lack of faith in all that was happening. As a practicing Jew, I should know better. Besides my own
bumbling preparations, there has to be some reason why this was happening.

While waiting at home for my 1 pm flight, I decided to not rely on others to get me to the airport, but take my own
car and just park it there. There has to be some reasonable parking at the airport for three measly days, no? I
looked again online and found that the prices were all about the same. I then chanced upon one site that quoted me
about $11.95. Great. Got it. Paid it. Done.

Set my Google Maps to find the address and drove, this time, casually to the airport at 10:45am. Lets be clear.
THIS TIME IM NOT MISSING MY FLIGHT! After all, I had enough stress that morning - having to
change all my perspired clothing. This time Im not going to panic and sweat.

I get to the Florida Economy Parking lot to leave my car and proudly showed them the print out of my reservation.
This time I was prepared and felt I got a great deal.

That will be another $20 dollars, said the attendant. What? I replied...as I could start to feel my heart sink
again.

You must have reserved this online through another portal. If you would have gone directly on our site you would
have gottenbla bla bla. Her voice seemed to drift off and my wallet automatically started to come out.

So what was the eleven dollars for? I challenged.

That was just the reservation fee, she simply replied. Did I ever mention that I hate traveling?

I paid the fee and let the shuttle shuffle me away to the terminal. Something about the word terminal is now
developing a different connotation in my head.

With no baggage to check (I did that earlier when I missed my flight) I went straight to the gate to calmly await my
flight. No delays, no delays I prayed. Indeed, I was fortunate that there were no delays and my flight started to
depart from the gate on time.

As I sat waiting for the plane to take off, I looked at my Facebook app and noticed a Lyft button that said, You
have a $30 credit. It expires in two weeks, so use it fast. Okay, here we go...more buttons to push and hope that
something doesnt go wrong. As this was the first time using a Lyft (not even an Uber) I got to a screen that said,
REQUEST A DRIVER. So what does a first time user do? I pushed the button! On the next screen it said,
Your Lyft is on the way and will arrive in 8 minutes. Uh oh! 8 minutes? My plane hasnt even taken off! Quickly
I push CANCEL and was not charged since it was within the 3 minute grace time. Phew!

As we started taxing down the runway, the words I dreaded hearing were said;
Hi. This is your captain speaking. If you look to the left, youll notice a familiar plane. We apologize for any
inconvenience but we are being held back from our departure due to Air Force One. I will check back with you in
45 minutes to let you know the status.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

I checked my memory and realized that I didnt have sneakers to walk from JFK to Crown Heights. I started to
shake my head and laugh. It was all I could do at that point. I was stuck. Escaping through the emergency exit
would surely not bode well for me, especially with Donald Trumps security entourage nearby.

Thankfully, about 15 minutes later, the captain said that he received an earlier than expected clearance and we were
set for take-off...finally.

The flight was packed but pleasant. I thought to myself, I bet that the person Im sitting next to will strike up a
meaningful conversation. Maybe that is the reason why I had to miss my flight. As I was sitting, I realized that
she spoke Spanish. It was going to be a quiet flight. Oh well...it figures. At least Ill use my time to edit my
Hebrew Reading book, the one Ive been writing since 2004. I did, and thank G-d, was able to complete a great
deal of edits.

Without much drama, my flight started to land on time at JFK. Okay, its 4:38pm. Usually, I take my time and wait
till all the passengers get off. I could do without all the pushing but this time I said to myself, Lets not linger or
dally.

I turned on my phone and saw my Facebook Messenger popup a message asking if I want to request a driver again.
I pushed YES and I got prepared to get off as quickly as possible. Just then, I got a call. I picked up and it was
the Lyft Driver, Jaswinder on the phone. That was fast. In a thick Indian accent he asked me where I was and I
told him that my plane had just landed and that Ill be there as soon as possible. He seemed somewhat peeved and
we both hung up.

Through the building and up and down the escalators I went. Jaswinder called again. He was not happy. I tried my
best to pacify him, explaining that I had never used such a service like Lyft or Uber and didnt realize that I should
only request one when ready outside. He wasnt buying it, but I was paying for it in the end.

I then looked around for the side area of customer service to claim my luggage - just like the agent told me. That
was the luggage that was checked early that morning at the terminal in Miami. After going to one room and being
sent to another room, I finally found the secret side room and there was no one there. I turned around and saw
some girls coming with an official looking person. The girls were there first, so being courteous, I waited. The girls
quickly found their luggage and now it was my turn. The official points down a row of stacked suitcases in a tight
and narrow row of steel storage shelves. I look and look and look...nothing. I panicked again, thinking my broken
@#$% mazal is hard at work again. I think I need one of the red bracelets or a Hamsa, I tell myself. The baggage
official looks at my boarding pass and says, Oh, you can get it from the regular baggage carousel. So off I go to
the REGULAR baggage claim area.

Ring ring Jaswinder called again. Oh no, not again! Knowing that he sees my Jewish sounding name, this is not
going to end well. Is this Jaswinder? I said. I am going as fast as I can. Please understand, I appealed.

Jaswinder: Dyou know dat Ive been waiting for almost 1 hour for you? Im not waiting any longer!!!!

Another satisfying traveling experience. Did I ever mention that I hate traveling?

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

Getting my luggage finally, I now go back to making a REAL request for a Lyft driver. It was mostly painless this
time. After the usual crazy traffic in NYC at rush hour, where the 11.16 miles only took me 57 minutes ha!, I
arrived in Crown Heights around 6:26 pm.

I quickly yet warmly greeted my kind host, Akiva P. as I entered his home and asked, What time is Shabbos? He
replied, 8:11 am. A rapid calculation meant that I would have enough time to run down 4-5 blocks to see the
Friedman family, at least say good Shabbos and drop off some memorabilia to share with others that night.

As I entered Hotel 701, the name given to the home where so many had stayed the night (and sometimes more), I
saw the usual hustle and bustle that accompanies the Shabbos preparations. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
If only for 30 minutes or so, I wanted to contribute where I could. No asking, Can I help? or Do you need
help? That was not the way of Bubby Friedman. She did...she gave...and she provided. Whether it was a simple
nourishing plate of food or satiating wise words, Bubby was always there. Should I do no less?

While helping with the chairs and tablecloths, I tried to become familiar with all the new faces of those that were
there. Kain Ayin Hara, I thought, there is no way Ill be able to remember all these great grandkids and great
great grandkids...its like a small village here. Out of 8 children that Bubby & Zeidy had, although I got stuck a few
times, it was somewhat easy for me to at least to see who belonged to who. It was almost like a matching game and
I found it amusing.

I looked at the clock and it was time to run back to my friend Akiva to get ready for Shabbos. Luckily the flower
guy hadnt completely packed up his wares and I purchased some nice roses for their family as a token of my
appreciation.

Ah the smell of Shabbos food. Although I wasnt that hungry, the look and smell of the fresh warm potato kugel
that just came out of the over was too much to bear. Of course, Mrs. Perl noticed and offered me a plate. Trying
to refuse its aroma was an exercise in futility. So I grabbed a small piece and nearly swallowed it whole. A taste of
the World to Come. I guess I was hungry after all.

Shabbos is always that special time of the week where the cares of the material world vanish and nothing really
matters other than relationships. Its a time to connect with G-d through extra learning & davening - and a time to
connect with friends & family through food, song and lively discussions.

The Perls family is, Baruch HaShem, blessed with exuberant and friendly boys and modest yet always smiling girls.
Sharing this time with them was a lesson of how Jewish families use Shabbos as the secret formula to form an
everlasting bond between each other. So wonderful to behold and admire.

After bentching, I thanked my host for the wonderful meal and hastily departed to the Friedmans to spend some
quality time with them as well. I wanted to make the most of my limited time there in NY, and knew that I was in
store for a special occasion.

Thirteen years previously, I had come to be with the Friedmans, after the passing of Zeidy, and that Friday night
was filled with hours upon hours of singing Zeidys signature songs & zmiros. This night would be no different.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
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As I came into the room filled with around sixty people, I was greeted with looks of such endearment and affection
- like seeing an old friend after many years. The time for comforting mourners had been suspended in honor of the
Shabbos day and it was not a time to grieve with them, but celebrate. To celebrate an incredible persons life.

As I passed Shloime and gave him a sincere hug, he said in an undertone, She was your momma too. Even as I
write this, my eyes well up with tears in the truth of that statement. She was like my mother. It was at the age of
15, a year of great transition and development, when I was sent away from my home in California to NY. My
stepfather who raised me had died in a tragic car accident a year before and I was wondering what life had in store
for me. My real mother, together with the advice and input from Rabbi Benzion Friedman (son of Bubby
Friedman) had decided that it would be best for me to leave my home and learn in a Yeshiva in Crown Heights,
specially designed for my background. As the dorm did not have meals for Shabbos or Yom Tov, I was to be
steady guest at the home of Rabbi Benzion Friedmans parents. Being far from home is no easy task for any child
and Bubby Friedman knew that. Therefore she made me feel as much a part of the family as any of her other
grandchildren.

For instance, there were many times, while visiting them in their home that many people came to collect tzedaka.
Zeidys reputation for helping all those in need had spread. Subsequently, they were frequented time and time
again. Often these people came in and upon seeing me, they would inquire as to my relationship with the
Friedmans.

Is this your son? they would ask. Without hesitation, Bubby would always reply, Yes, of course. She didnt say,
Hes a visitor or Hes a friend of the family. She plainly said, Hes family!

Thus, the driving force of my journey to NY was to feel that connection again.

And as expected, we sang and told stories throughout the night. Menachem, one of Bubbys grandsons, allowed
each person to get an opportunity to share their personal vignettes about Bubby. So what about the singing? Well,
we had all the Friedmans there! Avraham Fried (Avremel), Benny Friedman, Eli Marcus and more (All famous
singers). We sang some of Zeidys Zemiros but mostly chose Yiddish songs from Yom Tov Ehrlich Bubbys
favorite songs. Closing my eyes, I could clearly imagine Bubby sitting off to the side, moving her head ever so
slightly with her open hand moving up and down to the tunes while smiling.

It was already past 3 oclock in the morning, and the Shabbos get-together started to thin out. Some of the guest left
for the night and I too, decided to walk back to Akivas house. It was a long day and Id been up since 5 in the
morning. It was a good thing I memorized the code to get back inside the house. I made that mistake once and got
locked out in the middle of the night. I hope never to repeat that again. Getting locked out at 3 in the morning is
no fun. Someone earlier that night also almost got locked of their own house as well. In the past, I had helped this
same couple by climbing the outside walls to their home up to the third floor window to get in.

The next day, we davened at Hotel 701, ate, sang some more and continued to share our stories of Bubby. Even
though there was a ton of mouths to feed, there was no shortage of delicious food and oh, was it delectable and
good.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

Towards the end of the meal, many of us stood up and took upon ourselves a commitment that would both further
advance the beautiful memory of Bubby Friedman and make the world a whole lot brighter. One such commitment
was to light candles when Shabbos was over, such as was done by Bubby & Zeidy. An fabulous insight that was
conveyed by Rabbi Manis Friedman about his mother, was that she was an innovator. Not in the simple sense of
the word, but rather she innovated and recreated herself in the circumstances that constantly presented itself. She
didnt complain about things when they were difficult, but found a way of working with what was there. An
inspirational quote that I recently saw sums up this approach. We suffer not from the events in our lives, but from our
judgement about them! Bubby didnt show signs of complaint or suffering with her challenges, she purely found
another way.

Late in the afternoon, I made a quick stop at my mashpias home, my first Yeshiva rebbe, Rabbi Simpson. There in
his home, we shared educational perspectives and tidbits. It was refreshing to hear that we had so much in
common. I was also pleasantly reaping nachas in the fact that one of my own previous first graders, from my time in
Postville, was now teaching in Rabbi Simpsons school.

I walked back to the Friedmans home, as Shabbos started to come to an end. A large crowd developed outside to
again comfort the family in their time of grieving. Some of these faces I hadnt seen in 30 plus years, others were
famous singers who had affiliations and friendships with Avremel and still others were extended family who shared
stories from the 1940s, post war era of Tashkent a time of great mesirus nefesh and self-sacrifice. Tashkent was
were Bubby & Zeidy married and started their life together. Although not halachically a mourner, I sat behind
Avremel and tried to absorb as much as I could, feeling that some of the words of comfort were somewhat meant
for me as well.

Now it was time for me to say the prescribed words that our Chazal had formulated as I stood and looked directly
at each of the eight siblings and said, - "May G-d comfort you among
the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem." My trip was now fulfilled and I accomplished what I came for with
that one sentence. Funny to think of it in that way.

The next day, I returned once again to the Friedmans to bid farewell and help as best I could with some of the
cleanup. Said my tender goodbyes, gave hugs, blessings and wishes, hoping to return only on better circumstances.

Having arranged for a ride again to the Ohel and from there to JFK airport, I quickly packed and thanked my
wonderful hosts, the Perl family, for being so incredibly hospitable.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 5 pm. So around 2:15 pm I quickly boarded my ride, all the while trying to
decipher the fast paced French accent of my gracious driver. As we both sped away to the Ohel, the driver asked
me if I thought we were going the correct way. It seemed that my Waze app and that of the driver, were not in sync
and both our phones kept telling us to go in different directions - taking us in strange ways that we both were not
familiar with. What should have taken 38 minutes, turned out to be a zig-zag drive of over an hour! In addition,
how I wished the A/C in the car worked better because I was really nervous and shvitzing. Did I ever mention
that I hate traveling?

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Finally arriving at the Montefiore Cemetery - Ohel Lubavitch in Queens, at around 3:30 pm, I had no time to stay.
I certainly didnt want a repeat of missing my flight like a couple of days ago. I decided that I wouldnt request
anything of the Rebbe but merely be thankful for all the wonderful blessings Ive had up till now.

This reminded me of the story I heard on Friday night about Zeidy Friedman. He always had a smile when going to
see and walking past the Rebbe. The Rebbe had remarked once to him If only others would also have such a
smile. The lesson that many of us learned from this poignant exchange is the importance of showing gratitude. So
many of us would visit the Rebbe with our problems and difficulties that the Rebbe would often just see anguished
and sad faces. As such, I decided that at least for the time being, I too would just smile and focus on all the good
blessings I have, thanking the Rebbe for the blessings Ive received up until now with the hope that they continue to
increase and grow. I only asked for the needs of my friends who had left their names for me. Five minutes went by.
It doesnt take a lot to say thank you.

Checking Google Maps, I felt so relieved when I looked and saw that it would only take 18 minutes to get to JFK.
18 minutes would be perfect if I was shmurah matzah. Id then be ready for the seder, but would I be ready for my
flight?

BH, Getting to JFK was easy as could be. I profusely thanked my driver who handed me some shliach mitzva
gelt to put into a pushka when I arrived back in Miami, and off into the terminal I went. Uh oh, the word
terminal again.

Now dear reader, do you remember the prologue? This is where we come full circle for HaShem to reveal why and
how the events unfolded as they did.

It was about 3:55 pm. I go straight to the kiosk, checking to make sure it doesnt say, FOR UNCHECKED
BAGGAGE ONLY. I put in my reservation number. Once...nothing. Twice...nothing. I immediately asked an
attendant to please assist me and she tried and...nothing. Dj vu all over again. Im getting that terminal feeling.
The assistant pointed to a long line and said I would have to go to the main customer service. I had about an hour
till my flight, should I panic now or wait? I started to laugh inside myself and just wait. Boy, did it seemed like
forever.

It was about 4:20 pm, standing in front of the support agent, Lorna M. I was laughing at the sheer incongruity of
the whole episode. Not forgetting the power of a smile, I chose not to complain and used a calm and friendly
manner to have her assist me. This was especially true after she raised her voice back to an Israeli man who dared
raise his voice to hers. Patience would win the day, I hoped. I had already assumed that I had missed my
flight...again. In the end, I figured it is true what they say; You have to act as if it is all up to you, but pray as if it is
all up to HaShem.

As Lornas eyes widened in disbelief, she looked at the flight itinerary, then at me and back at the itinerary and
exclaimed in a most incredulous way, You shouldnt be here! Your flight is not due to take off till NEXT week!
I laughed and looked at her quizzically. She then showed something to me that neither myself nor anyone before
had seen. My reservation to come to JFK wasnt for that weekend but the upcoming weekend! Indeed! I shouldnt
be there. She called over a supervisor, Francco, who looked at the reservation. I laughed and told them, I am a
Jewish Time-Traveler from the future. The look on their faces when they were looking at the reservation was so funny

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

that I had to take a photo of their expressions. It was so comical. I quickly regretted taking the photo when
Francco said with a stern look, Youre not allowed to take photos of agents here at the counter. I quickly deleted
it and showed him that the photo was gone, explaining to him that I merely wanted to remember the incredible look
on both his and Lornas face. The last thing I needed was to get the supervisor upset at me.

A support ticket agent seemed like such a stressful job, with all the people complaining about this or that. At one
point, I had asked Lorna how many years she had worked at the airport. She said 38 years. I said, Wow! She
replied, And in all these years, I have never encountered such a bizarre incident. We both kept on chuckling and
smiling at the absurdity and craziness of it all.

After trying to figure out what to do and fruitlessly trying to bypass the computer software system to get me on
board, they resorted on calling upon yet another supervisor, Dina. At first Dina looked as if she might be Jewish
and I tried to determine this based on the tichel-like head covering she was wearing. Sometimes having a fellow
frum agent assist you could be in your favor and sometimes not. Her accent sounded as if she was from Iran, yet
I didn't want to make assumptions and decided not to use the Jewish card. Just be myself - act positive and
neutral. After all, why should I get special treatment just because we might be part of the same tribe?

After making Dina, Francco and Lorna laugh at some of my one-line and light hearted jokes on this whole issue,
Dina said that they would help me out and try to book me on a flight. I dont know if it was my ability to make
them laugh, my charm or perhaps my nice suit and tie that I wore that day, I was actually going to get this resolved.
So I waited patiently to see what would happen.

After about forty-five minutes of waiting patiently, I decided to be more proactive. It was now about 4:45 pm and
chances of getting on the initial flight seemed impossible, so I went back to Lorna and saw that they had given the
case over to yet another agent, Miralou.

If you havent experienced this before, let me tell you that when a support issue is given to a new person, it is as if
you have to start all over again.

So Miralou said to me plainly, Since your flight was not till next week and the flight that was scheduled for 5:00 pm
had already closed the gates, your choice Mr. Goldstein is to book another flight for tomorrow at an additional
cost. Gulp! You can well imagine what that cost was going to be. I explained to her (with a nice smile of course)
that Dina had promised me that I would not be charged extra for this and that they would try to schedule me on a
flight for that day. She then tried using the phone at her computer terminal station to get some information. It
didnt work. She tried a second one and it too didnt work. I then asked Miralou if we could go back to Dina to
confirm this. We then both went through the large crowd of people at the opposite side to search for Dina.

Trying to find someone at the JFK terminal at rush hour? Thank G-d she was found! It turns out that looking for
someone in a tichel head-covering is much easier. So Dina and Miralou exchanged a few words and I said to Dina,
Shukran (thanks in Arabic). She acknowledged my thank you and Miralou and I both went back to the counter.
She looked back at her screen and said, Wow! Youre very fortunate, she said to me in a hushed tone. The 5:00
pm flight was delayed till 7:30pm! I can still get you on! Dont tell anyone that Im doing this for you, okay?

I was laughing and smiling still from ear to ear. This time for a different reason.

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 Lessons of a Jewish Time-Traveler
By Shmuel Goldstein

As I made it towards the TSA Security lines, I spotted Francco and Dina and yelled out their names with both my
thumbs raised high and said thanks. They smiled in return.

Getting to Gate 37, I noticed a lot of people upset by their delayed flight. Little did they know why I was smiling so
much. On second consideration I said to myself, Did HaShem inconvenience all these people for me? After the
flight was delayed yet again to 8:30 pm, I didnt feel so guilty, but took it in stride.

We finally boarded the plane and after a few more announcements of yet more delays, we finally took off.

The flight was not full and I had plenty of space to sit comfortably and possibly complete the edits of my Hebrew
Reading book. After a multiple tries of the overhead cabin light, I was told that all the lights on the right side of the
airplane didnt work. Quickly, I walked up and down the aisles to see if there was an empty seat with a light. Thank
G-d I found one and was able to complete almost all the rest of the edits. Maybe Ill be able to publish my book
this year?

I arrived finally at Miami Airport a little after midnight, got into a shuttle that I phoned for, luckily retrieved my car
without paying a penalty for being late and drove home.

While driving home, I began to reflect about this whole amusing and perplexing episode, I came to an incredible
probable conclusion:
1) Had I made reservations for the correct dates, the flight would have been certainly more expensive
and I would have possibly over reached on the kindness of my benefactor.
2) Had I made my flight on-time while departing from Miami, I would have had to pay a penalty to
change my ticket.
3) Because I missed my flight, I was inadvertently placed on the very next flight at no extra fee.
4) Because of this oversight, the agents in JFK went out of their way to help me get back to Miami.

One crazy puzzle piece neatly fitting with the next.

It was Moises C. who said, There must be a reason ...hopefully you will have the Zechus (merit) to see Yad
Hashem (the hand of G-d)...in this. And I did.

The next day, I looked at my American Airlines App on my iPhone and saw that my initial reservation to fly to JFK
was still in place!

Should I try to fly again to New York?

Did I ever mention that I hate traveling?

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