Another Post item says the MTA estimates it will lose $215 million to turnstile jumping in 2018. It is believed 208,000 NYC citizens do it each day. I've done it twice in my life - without jumping. The first time I was about 13, part of a group of five St. Mary's classmates leaving a Mets' game at the old Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan. Mario asked me to piggyback with him, as he was curious as to whether it could be done. Weak-willed, I went along - and was seized by a black police officer, shoved in the opposite direction and told to "go back and pay your fare." It was a wonder I didn't crap my drawers. When I rejoined my friends, Mario apologized, a sick look on his face, which I remember to this day. I never mentioned it to him again, as he'd been punished enough. The second time instance occurred in the late 70's. I was working as a messenger and thought I'd save the .50 cents fare, supplement my meager income. I simply walked through an open door on a crowded platform. It caused me such stress, especially when a cop strolled toward me, that I never did it again. I learned I was not cut out for crime.
A Harvard prof opened himself up to ridicule by saying french fries should be consumed in increments of no more than six. Why not simply say: "Don't eat them; they're bad for you."? Jeez.
I was expecting it to be a lot colder today. It was beautiful at my alternate spot on Bay Parkway. My thanks to the young man who bought two books on the ins and outs of stock trading, and to Ann, who purchased one on the royal family for a friend; and to the elderly Asian gentleman who, despite the ranting of his female companion, found a chop-socky DVD to his liking; and to Bek, who selected S. E. Hinton's The Outsiders on my recommendation, and a book on how to score with women, which I hope doesn't corrupt him. 15, he's been in America two-and-a-half years. Although he speaks English well, he is self-conscious about his accent, which is not thick. I pointed out the many actors on prime time TV who have one or pretend to. I didn't feel right asking where his family is from, so I googled his name. Ancestry.com offers this possible definition: Jewish (Ashkenazic), Slovenian. He dreams of becoming a singer or rapper, of which his parents don't approve. He asked for advice. I said to play by their rules until he's 18. I also suggested he join the theater club at New Utrecht, which he attends. Good luck, young man.
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