OK, here's another one to match the one below:
So I'm sitting at the bus stop, minding my own business (the eventual destination was Tel Aviv, for a very nice evening), learning from a Gemara, in fact, when a cab pulls up in front of me. At first I think the guy wants my business, but then I realize he's asking me something. Something about...Yehuda HaNasi?
Now, let me explain: Yehuda HaNasi (Judah the Prince) was a third-century rabbi. The Greek Colony, the next neighborhood over from where we were, is full of streets named for rabbis from that period, and I assumed (my headphones had been in) that he was asking me where "Yehuda HaNasi"- that is, Yehuda HaNasi Street- is. Logical, right? Translating from the Hebrew:
Me: Um, I'm not sure...somewhere down that way...
Cabbie: Sorry! You don't speak Hebrew?
Me (boldly): Yes, but I'm just not sure where it is...
Cabbie: No, no! Who was Yehuda HaNasi?
Me: Ah, who! He was a rabbi, a Tanna. Lived in the year...
Cabbie: I just told someone he arranged the Mishna! Was I right?
Me: Certainly! He was the one! Live in the year two hundred...
Cabbie: Two thousand? [The words sound vaguely similar in Hebrew.]
Me: No, two hundred.
Cabbie: Ah, of course! But he arranged the Mishna...are you sure?
And he drives off, and the bus comes. Nice, eh?
Incidentally: My synagogue changes their various cloths- the ark curtain, the reading table cover- fairly frequently. Today (whoops, yesterday) I noticed that the cover they had on was dedicated to those people from the city of Brody who were killed in the Holocaust. And I thought- my father's family was from there; most of them were killed in the Holocaust. Good to see them remembered in Jerusalem.