METROPOLITAN DIARY 'A Car That Was Turning Slowed Down, and the Window Rolled Down'
Wearing a favorite dress, a Manhattan wedding and more reader tales of New York City in this week’s Metropolitan Diary.
'Polka Dots
Dear Diary:
I was on my way to meet some friends for lunch. I was wearing my green dress with white polka dots. A young woman stopped me as I left the subway station.
“That is a great dress,” she said.
I was out to dinner one night at a local restaurant. I was wearing the polka dot dress again. When the waitress brought the check, there was a note at the bottom.
“Best dress of the day,” it said.
Another time, two men complimented me on my polka dots as I was leaving church one Sunday.
I bought a new red dress with white polka dots. I was wearing it one night while waiting for the light to change on West End Avenue. A car that was turning slowed down, and the window rolled down.
“Love the dress,” the woman who was driving shouted as she passed by.
That was when I realized that polka dots rule.
— Catherine Henihan
Marriage Bureau
The sun had come out after days of spring showers. We haggled for our wedding bands in Chinatown, bought flowers on the Lower East Side and took the J to the Marriage Bureau.
It was like a happy DMV: Everyone was excited; no one was in a rush. We exchanged the rings in front of a cheerful bureaucrat and two of our closest friends.
From there, we floated over to a bar, and then to Russ & Daughters for herring and lox. Instead of cake, we had babka.
Everywhere we went, people smiled and congratulated us. I was too giddy to be shy about the attention my gown and bouquet were attracting to our little group.
The rain didn’t start again until later that night.
— Natalie Cohen
Vacation Day
Dear Diary:
It was 2015, my first holiday season after moving to New York City. I had returned to my West Village apartment after an emotionally bruising Christmas with a few vacation days to burn before the new year started.
The weather was unusually mild on this particular day, and I decided to stroll down the Hudson River Greenway in hopes of lifting my spirits. The sky was overcast, but it lent a lovely silver light to my walk, with the towers along the lower West Side echoed faintly by the outlines of Hoboken and Jersey City across the river.
My mood began to improve. Just being on the city streets, I had discovered, was often all it took to cheer and fortify me.
When I reached the Battery, I decided to take the subway back up to 14th Street and have lunch at a restaurant in the neighborhood.
Sitting on a stool at the bar, I ordered nachos and a margarita and settled in. A tall young woman in a black tracksuit sat down two stools to my left and placed her order. She was wearing a large pair of headphones, and she was clearly enjoying her music.
When her order arrived, the bartender tapped her gently on the forearm and asked whether she needed anything else. She lifted one headphone.
“It’s all good,” she said, breaking into a grin. “I’m having a party for one.”
— Tony Glad
The Cookie Thief
Dear Diary:
Several years ago I made a special trip to a well-known Jewish bakery to get cookies that were kosher for Passover. It was the first night of the holiday and I was excited to present the coveted treats to my family.
My boyfriend and I were taking Metro North to my parents’ house, and we were running late. As we made our way through Grand Central, I had bags looped over my arms and my hands were cradling the box of cookies.
Stepping up to the booth to buy our train tickets, I set the box down on the ledge next to me.
Tickets in hand, I picked up the bags and started to walk to the train. I quickly realized I had left the cookies behind. I turned around to get them, but the box had disappeared. In the short time it had taken me to take a few steps, someone had grabbed it.
Dismayed, we looked around for a few minutes more before running to catch the train. I couldn’t believe someone had stolen our Passover cookies.
As the train left the station and made its way toward 125th Street, I glanced over at the row of seats diagonally across from ours. A woman sitting there facing us was holding a bakery box. It was the perfect size for a pound of Passover cookies.
I looked at her, she looked at me and before I could say a word, she blushed and handed me the box.
We spent the rest of the ride in silence.
— Sara Shacket
Two, Please
Dear Diary:
I was at the box office to get preview tickets for “West Side Story.” I chose two seats in the center of the mezzanine.
“Do you think I can see and hear from these seats?” I asked the man selling the tickets.
He looked at me.
“What am I your doctor?” he said.
— Jerilyn Kaplan
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/15/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html
= new reply since forum marked as read
Address
1 Dot Way
Poca, WV 25159
Website: phs.putnamschools.com
Coordinates: 38.458583°N 81.816389°W
Poca High School, originally named "Pocatalico District High School", is a high school in Poca, West Virginia, United States. It serves the easternmost portion of Putnam County and is a part of the Putnam County Schools.
Such a fun read!