Taste Test
Dear Diary:
The day after Thanksgiving, a question arose: What does one eat next?
For a family ranging in age from 8 to 80, keeping a festive mood through the weekend required a new idea. Someone suggested a blind taste test of Upper West Side pizzas.
Soon, ballots were printed and categories debated: sauce, crust, mouth feel, overall taste. Three pies lined the kitchen counter.
When the votes were tallied, the winner came from a spot near 105th Street and Broadway. There were leftovers, and the three youngest members of the group and their aunt carried one box back to their apartment.
At West End Avenue and 70th Street, they were stopped by a sanitation truck. The driver got out and smiled.
“What’s the best pizza around here?” he asked.
“We actually just decided,” one of the kids said.
They explained their ranking system and even offered the man a slice.
He shook his head, laughing.
“We see a lot of different pizza boxes in the garbage,” he said. “We were hoping for a local opinion. Middle of the shift, we get hungry out here.”
He climbed back into the truck, waved and drove off.
— Naomi Malka
Good Opener
Dear Diary:
A man walks into a Lexington Avenue bodega. He is cradling a can of green beans, which he sets by the register.
“I need a can opener,” he says.
The man behind the counter gestures to a pegboard covered with kitchen gadgets.
The customer considers the options — a bare-bones metal model or something sturdier with a cushioned handle? — and chooses one.
As he approaches the counter to pay, he sees his can, its lid replaced by a taut square of plastic wrap secured with a rubber band. He nods in appreciation, returns the opener to its hook and carries the can carefully out the door.
— June Bell
Geometry Regents
Dear Diary:
It was June 1966. I was 15 and on my way to school in Bensonhurst to take the Geometry Regents, the test I dreaded the most of all because it required rote memorization of several theorems. No deviation.
I was desperate to memorize these theorems, which I was supposed to have learned by then. First on the Seventh Avenue bus and then on the F train, I glued my eyes to my review book. I always did my most intense studying on the transit system.
About a half-hour after I settled into my subway seat, I looked up from my book. The car was empty, and the train was moving fast. Out the windows I saw nothing but darkness.
Panicked, I jumped up, screaming for help. I ran through the cars until I reached the conductor’s booth. I pounded on the door.
The conductor slid the door open, surprised and then annoyed.
“What are you doing on this train?” he asked. “Did you not hear the ‘Everybody off’ announcement?”
“I was studying,” I said, starting to cry. “I’m taking the Geometry Regents in half an hour.”
The conductor, clearly unhappy, rubbed his eyes and announced over his walkie-talkie that he was turning the train around.
“Sit. Down,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, as the train rumbled in the other direction. “Thank you. Thank you.”
I made it to the test just in time, and, in a reversal of bad luck, two of the three theorems I had focused on were on the exam. I got a 90.
— Marilyn Horan
Capture the Moment
Dear Diary:
My wife and I were leaving a well-known Italian restaurant after lunch on a beautiful October day.
As we stood on the sidewalk, a taxi screeched to a halt and two women jumped out. One appeared to be in her early 20s, the other in her mid-to-late 40s.
The older one thrust her phone into my face.
“Quick,” she said. “Take our picture. My daughter just told me she is going to have a baby!”
— Jay Finger
Window Watching
Dear Diary:
I used to operate a small shop at the corner of Bleecker and Perry Streets in the West Village. We sold handmade glass, linens, pottery and cutlery. We had two big windows, and I spent a lot of time working on the displays.
One of my neighbors was an older woman who walked by with her dog every day. She would often stop and seem to be looking at the items on display very carefully. She never came in and never looked up to see me watching her.
After I had been there for about a year, she finally opened the door and stuck her head inside.
“Are you the same person who has been doing the window displays this whole time?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“You’ve gotten much better,” she said
— Peg Vance
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Illustrations by Agnes Lee
The post ‘The Car Was Empty, and the Train Was Moving Fast’ appeared first on New York Times.
