Yesterday Once More

Recently, a man pulled an ax out from his nefarious bag of tricks and attempted to attack a fellow subway rider. It occurred in the vicinity of Lincoln Center on the Number 1 train, which is considered one of the safer lines and the one I frequently patronize. Fortunately, in this instance, the attacker was taken down—before any harm was done—by a couple of good-Samaritan passengers. They exist, too, I’m happy to report.

The aggressor—a mentally unstable individual—is a commonplace sighting in the bowels of the New York City subway system. Previously, I've discussed my “Charles Manson Rule” therein, which I apply whenever I sense potential violence afoot. That is, I make like a tree and leave. I move on to a hopefully less dangerous and stressful subway car—often on a different train altogether. The reality, though, is that this rule of mine is not foolproof. Sometimes, an unhinged straphanger acts with such alacrity that there is no time for a change of geography.

Happily, I didn’t encounter any hatchet-wielding persons in my travels yesterday. However, as I navigated the underground, I was ever-vigilant of dangers of all kinds from deranged and non-deranged New Yorkers and visitors alike. Ambling about with a prosthetic knee adds a degree of instability that I cannot afford to take lightly on crowded and non-crowded moving trains and narrow platforms.

Let me just begin by saying that today, Mother's Day, is a polar opposite weather day from yesterday...

Okay, can you see the Number 1 train's conductor pointing at the zebra board?

I actually had a "Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque" moment yesterday on this very platform. That's a reference, by the way, to an episode of The Partridge Family called "Road Song," which featured a young female runaway and the accompanying song, "Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque," sung by David Cassidy. A teenage girl or maybe a little older—who didn't appear homeless and was a close talker—approached me and asked for a couple of dollars. She needed to get someplace. After I gave her the money, The Partridge Family possibility dawned on me. Point me in the direction of Franklin Street...

Dangers—like unintentional hip-checks onto the subway tracks from oblivious smartphone-engrossed passengers—cannot be taken lightly.

Forget about a leisurely stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge when there's a walk-a-thon. Forget about one when there isn't.

This is a statue of Ben Franklin in the environs of City Hall. Every time I see a statue of one of our Founders in the big city, I wonder what little people are trying to take it down. 

Aside from peddling moon shakes, what, pray tell, is this smoothie-seller advocating?

In the vicinity of Wall Street, this is now...

And this was then. When I was a boy, there was a Loft's candy store in the neighborhood. Solid chocolate crosses at Eastertime were, as I recall, a taste sensation.

Suddenly, and without fair warning, it's bubble tea time...

It's a little early in the season, so I can't say for certain where this van was headed. Albuquerque, perhaps?

One brief shining moment: Spring in Battery Park...

Lady Liberty and industry never looked better.

I've seen what it does to grass, so I'm a believer.

On reflection, I'm throwing in with science every time...

I was in City Hall Park and then at One World Trade Center yesterday. I couldn't help but think of a former mayor in the news. A man whom I voted for multiple times and whom I thought was right for the time. Justifiably, he became "America's Mayor" for a spell. Now, sadly, he's a poster boy for somebody on the wrong meds. Very sad!

Come on, you're too young to be plugging your ears every time a train arrives.

And so my journey ends—on Number 1 and thinking about Number 2.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)