On Tuesday, I had an evening that would make the proverbial bubbie plotz (and with credit to my Bubbie, when I told her where I was, she kind of did). I left my Brooklyn apartment while it was still dark, and boarded the train from Penn Station to Washington DC, the sun was rising out the window. By noon, I was surrounded by a room full Jewish men; lawyers to be precise. The whole place was full of them, dressed in suits, making small talk. If you’re quiet, you can hear the sound of bubbie plotzing!
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