05 November, 2012

People are strange, when you're a stranger

At the airport yesterday, as I walked towards the exit, I was behind three interesting girls. I do mean girls too, they could not have been more than late teens, early twenties. They were obviously Orthodox Jews, wearing wigs/head coverings, pushing strollers with small kids in them, and had on the Orthodox uniform of long sleeves/long skirt. They were also very small women, I bet not a one of them was even 4' 10". They were talking about someone who used to be a trader with Bear Sterns who has a lot of money and now does some kind of volunteer work and "my husband knows about him, or if not, he can ask someone who does know about him..." It was a tantalizing fragment of conversation. Another strange thing about one of these women was that even though her hair was covered as was most of her skin, she had the worst case of Visible Panty Line I've ever seen. She was a little pillowy (baby weight?) and she was obviously wearing  a pair of teeny, tiny underwear (maybe even a thong) that was cutting her nearabouts in two, with all this flesh puffing up around it. She might want to think about going up a skirt size to maintain her modesty.

The taxi driver who picked us up at the hotel on Friday night did not know how to get to the restaurant we were going to. He drove around and around, asking us (the out-of-towners) exactly where the restaurant was and all we had was a map we got from the hotel concierge. He ran the meter up a lot before Clara got her phone out and got directions. I was fuming in the back seat wondering why the heck he didn't have a GPS. What kind of taxi company sends out drivers who don't know their way around and don't have GPS?

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