Coming Through

Dear Diary:

My husband and I have season tickets to a concert series at the 92nd Street Y. Our seats are on the aisle.

At a concert not long ago, we stood up to allow a man and a woman to get to their seats. As we did, my husband decided to have some fun with them.

“Next time,” he said, “bring candy.”

A month later, we were settling in for another concert when the same couple appeared. We stood to let them through.

As they passed, the woman handed my husband a large bag of M&Ms.

“I remembered,” she said with a smile.

— Nina Levy

Icy Windshields

Dear Diary:

I was chipping ice off my windshield on Riverside Drive at 150th Street when the owner of the sedan parked in front of my car appeared.

He was a big fellow in a long, black winter coat. He waved at me in what I interpreted as cold-morning camaraderie.

“This car’s lived its whole life in California,” I said, feigning dismay. “It’s our first snowstorm.”

“But you’re prepared with the scraper,” he said. “I’ve got three, but never with me when I need them.”

“Would you like to borrow mine?”

“Yes, great.”

I finished clearing my windshield, and then I put the scraper into his gloved hands. I got into my car, shivering and flicking bits of snow from my fingers while I waited impatiently for the engine to heat up.

I looked out at the white-topped cars, slushy streets and bright frozen air over the river. The man circled his car, brushing and scraping without hurry.

When he appeared to be almost done, I got out of my car.

He handed me the scraper.

“Thanks,” he said. “Welcome to New York.”

— Jack Schiff

Accidental Limo Ride

Dear Diary:

One time when I was in my first years of practicing law, I needed to hire a car to take me across town for a big transaction.

When I got outside, I found that the number I had been given corresponded to a rather large limousine, not the town car I was expecting.

I replayed in my head the phone call I had made to order the car, trying to determine whether I had mistakenly ordered the wrong thing. I could not fathom how that could have happened. I was in a rush, so I jumped into the limo.

The inside was plush, with the seats arranged in almost in an O formation and bottles of water all around. To my right was an ornate bucket that appeared to be there to keep wine or champagne cold.

This was definitely not my typical ride. I began to worry that the client was going to see the bill for a limo and throw a fit.

I called out to the driver in a tone that was probably a bit of more brusque than I intended.

“I thought I was getting a regular car,” I said.

“Well,” he responded gruffly, “I guess it’s your unlucky day, then.”

— Randi Goring

Chivalry on Sixth Ave.

Dear Diary:

In summer 1991, the man who would become my husband and I were in Midtown when the sky opened up. We were caught in a downpour without an umbrella.

As we crossed Sixth Avenue a few blocks north of Radio City Music Hall, I hesitated in front of a huge puddle that was blocking my way to the sidewalk.

My boyfriend assessed the situation, picked me up like a groom carrying his bride over a threshold and waded into the puddle.

He deposited me gently on the sidewalk, and we began to hear applause. A group of hot dog vendors huddled under an awning were expressing their approval.

— Rae Merlet

Train Birds

Dear Diary:

It was the weekend and we needed to take two trains, rather than the usual one, to get to our destination.

We were pulling into a station after switching trains when I looked across the aisle and saw two pigeons under the seats.

A woman jumped up.

“Please help me get the birds off at the next stop,” she said.

As we approached the next station, the woman took charge, pulling out a yoga mat and using it to block off the area and encourage the pigeons to make their way toward the door.

One of the birds walked slowly over and flew out as the doors opened. The other one walked down the center of the train avoiding the doors in the middle of the car.

Suddenly, several passengers jumped up or used their hands to try and usher the bird out the nearest door. Just as the train was about to pull out of the station, the second bird flew out the door at the front of the car.

Everyone in the car started to cheer and clap.

“Hopefully they know where they are going,” the woman with the yoga mat said as the train continued on its way. “I am not sure if that was their stop.”

— Michael Schmidt

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Illustrations by Agnes Lee

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