The number 18 is meaningful to me.  Not only because its numerical value in Hebrew is life (the Hebrew letter chet=8 and yud=10) but also because ever since my father passed away, I have witnessed denominations of 18 when I pay for meals, gas, clothing and get assigned a seat on an airplane. My father had the Jewish inclination to donate in multiples of 18 and had an affinity for the number.  When suggesting that this was “a sign”, a cynical friend of mine suggested that most consumable goods end in the $.99 suffix and that I shouldn’t get too moved. For whatever reason, it helps me cope and my mother and I continue to make eyes at each other any time our receipt reads $___.54 or $___.72.
I’m a frequent flyer and a fan of the web check in. I want to mentally prepare myself for where my seat is located and what the occupancy of the flight is like.  Today, I was assigned seat 2A. Even though that meant I would disembark the plane earlier than the masses, I decided to change my seat to 18F.  It’s now part of my shtick.  As I made my way onto the plane just after last call, I wondered who I would sit next to.  Typically, I fall asleep or become entirely anti-social for the duration of the flight. Today though, I noticed a young man in the aisle seat of my row and as I put my bag under the vacant middle seat in our row, I struck up a conversation. The beverages at the airport lounge seemed to help in this department.   Turns out, the kid (!) is from my hometown and we have loads of mutual friends. At one point in our banter he turned to me and said, “A Jew always recognizes a Jew.”  We seem to have serious jewdar, almost like a sixth sense!
Again, thanks for the number 18! If anything, it provided me with some solid entertainment for the flight.