METROPOLITAN DIARY

Morning Ritual
Dear Diary:

The deli on West 40th Street across from my office closed during the pandemic, and I discovered another one a few blocks away that had great egg and cheese sandwiches.

The lovely woman who I imagined to be the owner greeted me and everyone else who came in with a huge smile.

“Good morning, dear,” she shouted as we entered.

“Have a nice day, dear,” she said when we left.

Once I became a regular, she always got my coffee cup and protective sleeve ready for the self-pour as soon as she saw me walk in.

After I lost my job and was no longer commuting to Midtown, I missed those sandwiches and that morning ritual. Yes, it was just an egg and cheese on a toasted bagel and a coffee, but it was my place that I really loved.

Six months after my last visit to the deli, I returned to same office building — but not before stopping in for breakfast first. I was brimming with excitement.

I walked through the door and saw the woman at the counter. We locked eyes, and her face broke into a huge smile.

“Hello, my dear,” she shouted. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

She soon had my coffee cup ready for me.

— Ben Schneider

Passing It On
Dear Diary:

Whenever I finish reading a magazine and it is in clean condition, I face a dilemma: Recycle it or leave it on a park bench or subway seat for someone else to enjoy?

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By leaving it somewhere, I could be doing a public service. Or I could just be making trash for someone else to clean up.

One day not long ago, the question was answered for me as I watched.

I was sprinting to make a transfer at Columbus Circle when the magazine I had been reading flew out of my coat pocket and fell to the ground. Wanting to make my train, I decided not to stop to pick it up.

As the doors closed, I watched sheepishly while people streamed past my litter.

But just before the train pulled out, I saw a woman stop and examine the cover. Then she bent down, picked up the magazine and slipped it into her bag.

— Ryan Kailath

Off Broadway
Dear Diary:

My friend was acting in an Off Broadway play. My wife, two boys and I went to see it.

Unfortunately, we got lost on the way and were 45 minutes late in arriving.

As we approached the box office to get our tickets, the clerk asked if we were the Spanos.

Yes, we said.

Thank God, he replied. We were waiting for you to start.

— Joseph Spano

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/28/nyregion/metropolitan-diary.html