Last Thursday, I bought a sandwich in the park. The woman at the kiosk asked if I had one of their “buy 12 sandwiches, the next one is free” cards. I didn’t. She rang up my purchase and punched not one, but four of the holes on the card. “You eat here all the time,” she said. For the record, I don’t. I have been there several times — it’s a couple of blocks from the office, although a little expensive — but not so often that I thought they knew me.
The next morning, on the train, I forgot my ticket. It’s a monthly pass, so of course the only day I forget it is the last day of the month. When I took out my wallet to pay the collector, she said, “But don’t you usually have a ticket? You use it as bookmark. That’s how I remember you.” She let me ride without buying a new ticket. The collector on the evening commute wasn’t so nice.
It’s nice when that happens, isn’t it?
It’s nice that New Yorkers don’t have the city’s reputation — and it’s sad that the city’s reputation isn’t that of its residents.