Going Uptown

Dear Diary:

I was on a bus going uptown on Madison Avenue from Lower Manhattan. I was in a seat not far back from the driver, which allowed me to observe him as we went along.

He was clearly a veteran and was able to identify people waiting at the door at each stop, answer questions and move on without ever taking his eyes off the road and traffic ahead.

By the time we got into the 60s, the bus had filled up and the line of people waiting to get off at each stop had grown. At one point, a woman standing near the driver began to pepper him with questions.

“Do you stop at 68th Street?” she asked.

Yes, he replied, eyes straight ahead.

“Do you stop at 78th Street?”

Yes.

“Do you stop at 86th Street?”

The driver turned his head slowly to look directly at the woman.

“Look, lady,” he said, “I know where I’m going. Where are you going?”

— Van Whisnand

From Above

Dear Diary:

It was a warm, sunny afternoon. I was walking on East Fourth Street in Manhattan when something fell from above and almost hit me. Looking down, I was surprised to see a denture.

Just then, I heard a woman shout from an upper-story window.

“Is it OK?” she said.

I shouted back that it looked fine, and waited until she came down to retrieve it. When she did, she said it had shot out of her mouth when she sneezed while standing at the window.

— Kathy Kumar

Flaco vs. the Ornery Ornithologist

Dear Diary:

When Flaco the owl fled the Central Park Zoo,
Through vandalized mesh (yeah, so what else is new?)
The renowned ornithologist, Dr. Olive O’Duff,
Said, “We must capture that bird and I know my stuff.
What bird in his right mind survives in New Yawk?
He’ll get eaten and chomped by a rat or a hawk.
He will nibble on poison, sriracha and hoisin.
He’s nuts as a loon, thinks he’s out for a lark.
Get him back in his cage! Get him back before dark!”

But Flaco the owl, now as free as a bird,
Flew to places of which he only had heard.
Bergdorf’s and MoMA, the Highline, the Met,
Off on a flight he would never forget:
“It’s a hoot and a howl and a hot hootenanny,
Exploring Manhattan, each nook and each cranny.”

Ah, but Dr. O’Duff said, “I gotta be tough,
This Flaco is wacko, and enough is enough.
It’s for the bird, I’m his staunchest proponent,
I value his vigor, that worthy opponent.
Does he think he’ll survive outside of captivity?
Bait the traps, men, and damn his proclivity!”

Flaco, meanwhile, was nothing but smiles,
Flying o’er rooftops and mocking gargoyles.
Bird watchers watched him and pointed and stared.
“You’ll never taste freedom if you haven’t dared.
You don’t need to be smart,
Just sharpen your claws,
Keep your hearing superb.”
He was met with applause.

When Olive O’ heard this, her feathers were ruffled,
She said to her minions in a voice soft and muffled:
“Flaco has taught me, better shoot for the moon,
Be brisk, take the risk, and owl’ll be seeing you soon.”

— Lou Craft

Auditioning

Dear Diary:

Soon after I graduated from high school, I moved to Manhattan to audition for Broadway shows. I had taken dance classes in my hometown, Philadelphia, and was a member of an ensemble of dancers on a local television show.

A friend from high school and the TV show who had already moved to Manhattan invited me to be his roommate in a basement apartment on 86th Street and Central Park West. A few days after arriving, I was hired as a busboy at a Greenwich Village restaurant.

Three weeks later, my friend and I attended an audition for Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Flower Drum Song.” There were 250 other dancers there. We learned and repeated choreography for an entire day, with dancers eliminated as we continued.

Finally, six dancers remained on the stage. Each of us had been assigned a number.

“If I call your number, please leave the stage,” the stage manager said. “Thank you for your efforts.”

After the last number was called, my friend and I realized we were the only two dancers remaining.

“Will you two boys please step down to my desk,” the stage manager said.

Once we had, he had additional instructions: “Please come to the Rodgers and Hammerstein office in the morning to sign your contract,” he said.

My friend and I were astonished and proceeded to hug.

“Do you two boys know each other?” the stage manager asked.

“We went to high school and studied dance together and are roommates,” I said.

“Now that’s a real show business story!” he replied.

My friend and I left the theater and hailed a cab for the first time in our lives.

— Arno Selco

Big Change

Dear Diary:

Overheard while having lunch at an Upper East Side diner:

“So good to see you,” one patron said to another. “I must say, your new nose looks so much better than your old nose.”

— Will Adams

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