METROPOLITAN DIARY

[elleng]

Nice Ride
Dear Diary:

It was a beautiful, sunny morning in June, and I was visiting New York City from Italy for business.

I hailed a cab at my hotel near Central Park to go to 47th Street. The cabby had his windows open, and off we sailed down Fifth Avenue. I remember skyscrapers, blue sky and a big, bold sun filling the cab.

The driver was probably in his 60s and in a cheery, chatty mood, which led to some friendly banter between us. He was from Russia, and I spoke a little Russian, so I think it was a nice ride for both of us.

Suddenly, he opened his car door when we stopped at a red light, jumped out of the cab and ran toward the crowded sidewalk.

I couldn’t see him anywhere. I crept to the edge of my seat and looked at the red light, fearing it would turn green. Then I looked into the rearview mirror, worried about the cars coming up behind us.

The cab continued to idle, and I still couldn’t find the driver. Then, there was an opening among the pedestrians, and I saw him hugging and kissing a woman about the same age as him.

He ran back and hopped into the cab just before the light turned green.

“It’s the first time in 35 years that I’ve seen my wife while I was working,” he said.

And off we sailed again.

— Mary DeNike

The Stranger in the Middle Seat
Dear Diary:

red eye
jam-packed
SFO to JFK
he was six-foot-four with broad shoulders
wedged between me and the large woman at the window
I am six feet, overweight, and he was already nodding off
(I guessed Ambien)
“You gonna sleep?” he mumbled, and I said,
“You betcha”
“This will work”— he raised the arm rest
“I’ll be the big spoon”
we passed out
like two
big pups

— S.R. Smith

Jury Duty
Dear Diary:

In May 1983, I reluctantly reported for jury duty at the courthouse on Centre Street in Lower Manhattan with hundreds of other people.

Eventually, I was seated for a civil trial with five other jurors. During a lunch break, I decided to go to J&R Music World. To my surprise, the juror seated next to me asked if he could come along.

We chatted briefly during the outing and then returned to the courthouse afterward.

At the end of the week, the case was resolved, and we were free to go. As we made our way outside, the juror seated next to me asked if I wanted to have lunch. I said yes, and we walked to the Cloister Cafe on Ninth Street.

The next week we had our first dinner date at Patrissy’s in Little Italy. We have now been happily married for almost 36 years.

You just never know.

— Ellen Colton

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/10/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html