Roy wanted to visit Egypt two years ago. But while he was checking out different tour packages, an airplane crashed into the Atlantic. The plane was an Egypt Air flight from New York to Cairo. It had no sooner gotten airborne than it dove straight down into the ocean, killing all on board. There was a great deal of investigation into the crash, but the final conclusion, made after recovering the black box, was that the copilot had decided to take his life, along with all the passengers and crew.

Pat told Roy to forget about flying to Egypt. As his wife of 50 years, she wouldn’t permit it. If he wanted to see the pyramids, she said, he could rent a video or google the pyramids online. Two years went by, and no further crashes occurred. One day Roy told Pat that he was going to Egypt, with or without her approval. He asked her if she wanted to go with him. She said no, thank you—she didn’t have a death wish “l(fā)ike someone I know.”

Roy said that the plane crashed two years ago—she worried too much. He said he was also making a side trip to Israel. Pat said, “Go ahead. I’ll call the funeral parlor so they know you’ll be dropping by.” Roy laughed. He said there was a greater chance of dying in a car accident in their own neighborhood than of being killed by terrorists in Egypt or Israel.

“Yes,” Pat said, “but we have to drive around our neighborhood to do our errands. We don’t have to go to Egypt and Israel. You’re just tempting fate.”