A mysterious, elegant man, a quick cut and more reader tales of New York City in this week’s Metropolitan Diary.
On Madison Avenue
Dear Diary:
The new commute started in November, a gray, sleeting month that was all the more dreary because the job in Stamford that I had enjoyed for two years had been moved to New York.
I hate commuting, but when a boss who works you hard but makes you laugh asks you to try it and pays your expenses to do so, that’s just what you do.
The Madison Avenue bus had a line a block long, sometimes longer, in the morning. Early on, I decided to walk the 14 blocks north rather than waiting. I’d go straight up Madison to avoid having to dodge the crowds near St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Rockefeller Center.
One morning, I was 10 blocks into my walk when I saw a tall man striding south with a long coat draped over his shoulder. He was tan, with great posture, a serene demeanor and a couple of men who were not quite as visually impressive walking at his side.
From then on, I would see him on the same block at the same time every morning.
One day, he smiled at me and nodded, and I, flattered, did the same. After that, this elegant and seemingly mysterious man would repeat the smile and nod every day, and I came to count on seeing him to improve my mood every morning, which he did.
I eventually left the job for one closer to home, but the image of this man stayed fresh in my mind. I had no idea who he was, but I imagined that he must be someone important because of his clothing and confident air.
He was.
One day, the newspaper featured photographs of people attending the opening of a museum exhibit, and there he was: Halston.
— Aimee Harrison
Quick Cut
Dear Diary:
I was at a barbershop in Midtown. It had a sign on the door that said it did “express” haircuts.
An older man entered, described how he wanted his hair cut and immediately fell asleep in the chair.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of the hair dryer woke him up.
“That was fast indeed,” he said.
— Sergii Pershyn
Iago’s Plot
Dear Diary:
It was some years ago, and we had four front-row, center-balcony seats for a Metropolitan Opera performance of “Othello.” A young couple who weren’t familiar with the opera accepted an invitation to join us.
During the taxi ride from the restaurant where we had dinner to Lincoln Center, we unraveled the plot for our companions. With four passengers in the cab, I sat in the front seat and narrated to the rear.
The cab’s arrival at the Met coincided with my recounting of Iago’s plot of the concealed handkerchief. I tried to hand the fare to the driver as we prepared to get out. He stopped me.
“No one is leaving until I hear the end,” he said.
— Vern Schramm
Novocain
Dear Diary:
My dentist had been trying to save a large molar for weeks. On a Tuesday, I called him in great pain, and he took it out the next day.
If you’ve ever had a tooth extracted, you know the dentist or surgeon puts in a few sutures and packs the opening with gauze that you replace on an hourly basis.
After leaving the dentist’s office, I got on the elevator. There was a woman standing diagonally across from me.
“Your boot laces are undone,” she said.
“I know,” I garbled through the gauze and the Novocain. “I just had a tooth pulled and have gauze packing. I can’t bend over.”
“But you’re going to trip and fall,” she said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Let me tie it for you.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” I said, “but thanks.”
She knelt down, tied the undone laces on one of my boots and tightened the laces on the other.
“That’s so sweet of you,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Now you won’t trip,” she said as the elevator opened at the ground floor.
— Arthur Davis
Collared Curbside
Dear Diary:
I was in the city on business from California. Icy cold December air hit me as I left my hotel in the morning. Looking forward to a brisk walk to the office, I buttoned up my coat and waved off the doorman who had offered to flag me a cab.
I made my way up Madison Avenue. It was a longer walk than I anticipated, so I picked up my pace.
Red light. Green light. Walk.
I was about to step off the curb, my foot in midair, when I felt myself jerked backward violently by my coat’s collar. A wall of yellow taxi cabs whooshed through the intersection.
Shaken, I turned around.
There he was: a big man in a red Santa hat.
“Lady,” he said in an exasperated tone, “you must be from California.”
— Nanki Siegel
Read all recent entries and our submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter.
Illustrations by Agnes Lee
"diary" - Google News
July 18, 2021 at 02:00PM
https://ift.tt/3xPDWwT
‘I Was 10 Blocks Into My Walk When I Saw a Tall Man Striding South’ - The New York Times
"diary" - Google News
https://ift.tt/2VTijey
https://ift.tt/2xwebYA
Bagikan Berita Ini
0 Response to "‘I Was 10 Blocks Into My Walk When I Saw a Tall Man Striding South’ - The New York Times"
Post a Comment