I brought her to Zürich Airport yesterday morning for her 12:55 Swiss flight back to Chicago. This brings up something I've been wondering about for nearly seven years now...
What's the deal with all the Jewish people flying between Zürich and Chicago? I try to avoid Swiss as a rule because I think they suck as an airline, but on the few occasions I've flown Swiss to Chicago, the plane has been loaded with what I think are Hasidic Jews (dressed in black, wearing hats, men with curls at their temples). Yesterday, the Swiss check-in line was at least 75% made-up of men wearing yarmulkes, women dressed in black, etc. These were Americans and not people from Israel as was the case on my previous Swiss flights. Jo told me that the flight from Chicago to Zürich was the same. This fascinates me...
What's up with this? Why do so many of the world's 13 million Jews fly Swiss between Zürich and Chicago? Just wondering... Can anybody help me here? TBF needs to know!
Anyway...
Jo Mama's back at home, and all that's left of her visit is a pile of bed linens and towels that still need to be washed, a few empty bottles of prune juice that need to be recycled, and a few pictures that I finally uploaded into the computer. Here are three of my faves...
Jo Mama and Mrs. TBF sharing a pumpkin seed pretzel. Jo Mama's not supposed to eat seeds because they can aggravate her diverticulitis. However, she chose this moment to tell Mrs. TBF that "large seeds" don't bother her. I've also heard her say, in the past, that "small seeds" don't bother her. Dear Jo Mama: If large seeds AND small seeds don't bother you, then you probably don't have diverticulitis!
Jo Mama has been a widow for nearly ten years now. Whenever she comes to Basel, we always tell her that we're going to hook her up with a rich, elderly, Swiss gentleman. If we see somebody that fits the bill, we'll just say "suitor!" to see if she approves.She NEVER approves.
Here is a rare photograph of Jo Mama with one of her "suitors". The guy is obviously checking her out, and she is, like, totally ignoring him. WHAT A TEASE!
Whenever the experience that is "living with Jo Mama" would become too much for yours truly, I just retreated into the sanctity of the rooftop garden (The Fishbowl) to clear my head. I could just feel the eyes of all the Swiss people in the tall apartment building - which we call One Big Bruno - staring down at me because: I was wearing shorts and flip flops in April; I was wearing plaid Bermuda shorts that no Swiss person would ever wear; I was trimming the boxwoods into two giant testicles while sitting and smoking a cigar ("...like an old Dago!" Mrs. TBF's words, not mine!). DEFINITELY stare-worthy, I'm sure, as far as the Swiss are concerned.Hey, now that I'm looking back at these pictures...
Is that guy in the second picture actually staring at me?
