Rescued, Williamsburg Style

Left my house shortly after 7 am on Friday. Three buses and eight and a half hours later I found myself in Liberty, New York, stranded.  I was in the middle of nowhere and my cell phone, as usual, didn’t have service (Gotta love Sprint.  My cell has a coronary every time I hit the NJ Turnpike).  I found a pay phone and tried calling my cousin.  No luck.  I eyed the passing vehicles somewhat distraught. A Chassidish family pulled over and asked me if I needed any help.  I described my predicament and they offered me a ride.  I eagerly accepted.  Now, there were no empty seats in their van, so the Bubbe squished herself over as much as possible and made room for me.  Though it was completely out of their way, they turned the car around and drove me to HASC.  They were a family from Williamsburg, bedecked in Chassidish garb, and speaking Yiddish to one another. They were Jews quite different from me; nonetheless, they went beyond the call of duty to help me out.  Mi K’Amcha Yisrael…