I press my forehead to the plastic window as the plane climbs over the Adirondacks. “It’s a beautiful day, beautiful weather,” he says, leaning forward to gaze over my shoulder.
We chat about the weather, the scenery, our final destinations. I’m returning to Nebraska from a visit to Massachusetts. He’s heading back to Detroit after spending the weekend at a religious conference.
“Oh, are you are a rabbi?” I ask. His accent sounds Middle Eastern. And the book open on the tray table in front of him looks like Hebrew to me. Earlier I had watched out of the corner of my eye as he turned pages back to front, highlighting passages in neon yellow from right to left.
He chuckles before answering, “No, I’m Muslim.” And then I apologize, embarrassed to have made such an awkward error. I realize, too late of course, that he isn’t even wearing a yarmulke.
...Click here to hop over to the Journal Star today to finish reading the rest of my column about this unique encounter en route from Massachusetts to Detroit...