A memorable coffee cart order, a ferry rider gets an unusual greeting and more reader tales of New York City in this week’s Metropolitan Diary.
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Special Order
Dear Diary:
I was on a business trip to Manhattan some years ago that brought me to the Manhattan neighborhood near the Fashion Institute of Technology.
A little hungry, I saw a coffee cart and got in line. Ahead of me were three young women who appeared to be students at the school.
I could hear them as they ordered. I don’t remember what the first one asked for, but I’ll never forget the second one’s order.
“A plain toasted bagel, con schmear, please,” she said.
— Doug Geller
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Salsa Savior
Dear Diary:
I was walking past the 34th Street ferry terminal when I noticed a young woman holding a jar of salsa in front of her and looking expectantly at the people streaming off an arriving boat.
I assumed she was looking for a particular person and, sure enough, I saw her run toward a young man in a white shirt who was walking in her direction.
Watching her run toward him, I expected to see a hug, a kiss or some other kind of physical greeting.
Instead, she held out the jar of salsa.
Moving a bit closer, I observed the man open the jar and the woman jump gleefully up and down.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “Thank you so much.”
Her mission apparently accomplished, she walked away from the man and carried the jar to a nearby bench, where a companion was waiting with a bag of chips.
— Eric Mathern
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Bee Whisperer
Dear Diary:
A colleague and I went out for lunch at one of our usual spots in Woodside, Queens. After placing our orders, we wanted to sit down at the only available seats, which were near the window.
Then I spotted a bee gently tapping against the inside of the glass. I pointed it out to my colleague, and we decided to give the bee some space and stand nearby instead.
Just then, a father and his young daughter wandered over and eyed the window seats.
The father quickly noticed the bee. He calmly produced a plastic straw and crouched near the window.
What happened next felt almost magical: The bee climbed onto the straw. The father carried the straw outside as his daughter followed along, and then he released the bee, which zipped away.
They came back inside and took the seats by the window.
— Beata Safari
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After the Show
Dear Diary:
He’s in “Boop! The Musical,” my husband whispered, nodding toward a young man on the Times Square subway platform and explaining that he had seen him signing autographs earlier.
The actor, in shorts and a floral shirt with two bags sandwiched between his legs, was scrolling on his phone.
The train rumbled in, and we hopped on. The young man sat down facing me.
I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“My husband recognized you,” I said.
“Wow!” the young man said, his eyes lighting up. “Thank you. Did you see ‘Boop’?”
“Sorry, no,” I said.
“We were at ‘Sunset Boulevard’ across the street from you,” my husband said.
“Isn’t it great?” the young man said. “Isn’t Nicole awesome? Isn’t the orchestra powerful?”
“Yeah! So innovative,” I replied. “Hope Nicole and the show win Tonys this weekend.”
“So how many shows have you seen this season?” he said. “Did you like them?”
It was our turn.
“What role do you play in ‘Boop’?” I asked.
“I’m in the ensemble,” he said. “Kids love it, bringing lots of new people to Broadway.”
We leaned in closer as he shared backstage tidbits about the lead.
“What’s your plan after ‘Boop’?” my husband said.
“Great question. Should I audition for more Broadway shows? Go on tour? I’m not sure.”
Our stop was coming up, but he stood first.
“Please know we’re not stalking you,” my husband said. “We get off here too.”
When we were on the platform, the young man turned back toward us.
“Nice chatting with you,” he said, adding that his name was Christian.
We introduced ourselves as Tom and Li and said we hoped to see him onstage one day.
As we walked off, I teased my husband.
“You made his day,” I said. “He’ll lose sleep tonight.”
“He’ll be a star,” my husband replied.
— Li Ruan
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They Scream
Dear Diary:
I often stop to chat with two older woman who sit on deck chairs outside a laundromat in my Bay Ridge neighborhood.
One day as I was passing them and saying hello, they were clearly eager to chat. I apologized for not being able to linger. I explained that I had ice cream in my shopping bags and didn’t want it to melt.
They looked curious. Since the ice cream was in small, single-serving cups, I asked whether they would like some. I had vanilla, strawberry and coffee, and they seemed good with any flavor.
I gave them each a cup and began to walk away but stopped and turned back toward them. I told them that the spoons were in the lids.
“Yeah,” one of them shouted with a bit of an edge in her voice. “I was going to say!”
— Mary McConnell
Illustrations by Agnes Lee