Serious shtuff

Well, that was certainly quite strange. In case anyone is still interested in reading about Merkos Shlichus, well then, today is your lucky day.
Yossi and I got in our trusty Chevrolet and drove down the road to Southbury, where we found the house of our longing without too much trouble. Eli, for that was the name of host, welcomed us with open arms. He seemed genuinely happy to see us, which was nice. We met the family, Eli's mother, wife, and sister, and then began to chat. Nothing incredibly interesting was said by either side; we just exchanged some family histories and they found out that I'm a big fan of Tahdig, the golden-crusted Persian rice which no human (at least the ones that I've ever met) could possibly resist. We chatted about Eli's father, who passed away in March, 2007, and is still sorely missed. I mentioned that the Temple was destroyed 2000 years ago, and we still haven't gotten over it. The only solution to the aching pain in our hearts, nestled (you're welcome Nemo) deep within our collective conscious, is for Moshiach to come. There's really no other solution for our problem. After this rousing conversation Eli put on Tefillin, we said a little Tehillim for the health of everybody involved, and then it was out to the door to grandma's house we go.
Well, not exactly grandma's house. In fact we chevied our way up to New Milford hospital, where we were informed that a Jewish patient was on the second floor. The 2nd floor of the New Milford hospital is the location of the ICU, and consequently we weren't so enthusiastic. Sure, it's great to visit people, but it's not so great so see them lying on beds with bunches of tubes sticking out in multiple directions. Anyway, we got into the ICU, and besides for a couple of nurses and a police officer (she was just sitting in there, reading a paper), we found neither Jewish hide nor Hebrew hair. The nurse suggested that we pay a visit to maternity ward, and off we went, feeling even more apprehensive. When you visit an ICU, everyone expects clergymen to pop in and administer last rites, or comfort the patient/family members/pet goldfish, whatever the case may be. In a maternity ward though, nobody expects a couple 21 year olds to just pop in and say, "Hey, we just thought we'd pop in."
Fortunately, the we met a kindly nurse who asked the father to come out, and we were quite happy to wish him a hearty Mazel Tov on the birth of his daughter Cameron, who was born just a couple hours before we rambled in. He seemed happy to see us, and it sure was nice for us to finally be in a hospital for a good thing.
And that, friends, was another day in my life. Shocking, but true.