Ambushed

After spending about a decade at Camp Shalom, I know a lot of people in Silver Spring (note the spelling), even though I’m verifiably not a native. Since I couldn’t go home this Shabbos, I opted for Kemp Mill, since it’s not terribly far. As I strolled into shul *early* Shabbos morning, I heard a male voice jibe, “Don’t say ‘Good Shabbos’ to me, Devorah.” Oh G-d, not now….