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‘Before I Got to the End of the Street, I Felt a Tap on My Shoulder’ ‘I Was Walking Home After Enjoying One Too Many Aperol Spritzes’
(about 3 hours later)
Dear Diary:Dear Diary:
It was the first beautiful weekend of the year. I was walking home after enjoying one too many Aperol spritzes at a sidewalk cafe.It was the first beautiful weekend of the year. I was walking home after enjoying one too many Aperol spritzes at a sidewalk cafe.
I felt my phone buzz. As I grabbed it, I also pulled out my keys. I was standing over a grate, and even in my inebriated state, I knew what was about to happen. There was nothing I could do to stop it.I felt my phone buzz. As I grabbed it, I also pulled out my keys. I was standing over a grate, and even in my inebriated state, I knew what was about to happen. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
It felt like things were happening in slow motion as I watched the keys fall through the grate into the underbelly of New York. I knew they were gone forever.It felt like things were happening in slow motion as I watched the keys fall through the grate into the underbelly of New York. I knew they were gone forever.
I screamed, took a moment to remember the grate for future laughs and continued walking. Before I got to the end of the street, I felt a tap on my shoulder.I screamed, took a moment to remember the grate for future laughs and continued walking. Before I got to the end of the street, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned and saw a nice-looking man wearing tweed, a scally cap and a big smile. He pointed to the grate my keys had just fallen through. I noticed that he was in a group of men who were all dressed like him.I turned and saw a nice-looking man wearing tweed, a scally cap and a big smile. He pointed to the grate my keys had just fallen through. I noticed that he was in a group of men who were all dressed like him.
The men lifted the grate. Before I could say anything, one jumped down and then popped back up. I was dumbstruck. He took a drag from his cigarette, smiled and handed me my keys.The men lifted the grate. Before I could say anything, one jumped down and then popped back up. I was dumbstruck. He took a drag from his cigarette, smiled and handed me my keys.
I didn’t know how to thank them so I just ran around giving hugs. They all shrugged it off.I didn’t know how to thank them so I just ran around giving hugs. They all shrugged it off.
As I walked away, one of them yelled a piece of advice.As I walked away, one of them yelled a piece of advice.
“Don’t give up that easily, kid,” he said. “Most grates in New York aren’t locked.”“Don’t give up that easily, kid,” he said. “Most grates in New York aren’t locked.”
— Julia Murphy— Julia Murphy
Dear Diary:Dear Diary:
I was trying to buy tickets to “Slave Play,” and there was a problem with completing my order online. I called an 800 number to resolve the issue.I was trying to buy tickets to “Slave Play,” and there was a problem with completing my order online. I called an 800 number to resolve the issue.
The woman who answered was very helpful and we had a friendly, chatty exchange. Before completing the transaction she read me a warning: This play contains violence, sexual scenes, nudity, simulated sex, racism and violence.The woman who answered was very helpful and we had a friendly, chatty exchange. Before completing the transaction she read me a warning: This play contains violence, sexual scenes, nudity, simulated sex, racism and violence.
There was a pause.There was a pause.
“Excellent,” I said quietly.“Excellent,” I said quietly.
We both started to laugh.We both started to laugh.
— Bob Lohrmann— Bob Lohrmann
Dear Diary:Dear Diary:
I had lived with my boyfriend on the Upper East Side for a year and a half. Our lives came crashing down one August evening when he confessed that he was in love with his best female friend. We fought and cried the entire night.I had lived with my boyfriend on the Upper East Side for a year and a half. Our lives came crashing down one August evening when he confessed that he was in love with his best female friend. We fought and cried the entire night.
The next morning when I went to work, I got into the elevator with an older man I had never met before. My brokenness spilled out and, unable to ride in silence, I asked him, “What would you say to someone with a broken heart?”The next morning when I went to work, I got into the elevator with an older man I had never met before. My brokenness spilled out and, unable to ride in silence, I asked him, “What would you say to someone with a broken heart?”
He thought for a moment.He thought for a moment.
“Well,” he said, “the heart is strong. It will come back.”“Well,” he said, “the heart is strong. It will come back.”
He was right. I moved to Brooklyn, and a year later, it did.He was right. I moved to Brooklyn, and a year later, it did.
— Ashleigh Hunt— Ashleigh Hunt
Dear Diary:Dear Diary:
It was 2004. A restored print of “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” had just come out and I went to see it at Upstate Films in Rhinebeck.It was 2004. A restored print of “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” had just come out and I went to see it at Upstate Films in Rhinebeck.
Two women arrived and sat in the row directly in front of me. I recognized them as Susan Sontag and Annie Leibovitz.Two women arrived and sat in the row directly in front of me. I recognized them as Susan Sontag and Annie Leibovitz.
A week later and 100 miles to the south, I was sitting in the Walter Reade Theater at Lincoln Center waiting for a silent film to begin.A week later and 100 miles to the south, I was sitting in the Walter Reade Theater at Lincoln Center waiting for a silent film to begin.
Ms. Sontag and Ms. Leibovitz came in and again took seats a row ahead of me.Ms. Sontag and Ms. Leibovitz came in and again took seats a row ahead of me.
I leaned forward.I leaned forward.
“Hey,” I said, maybe a little too brightly. “I was in back of you at ‘Umbrellas of Cherbourg’ last week. Where are we going next?”“Hey,” I said, maybe a little too brightly. “I was in back of you at ‘Umbrellas of Cherbourg’ last week. Where are we going next?”
They glanced back at me.They glanced back at me.
“Some place you aren’t,” Ms. Sontag said.“Some place you aren’t,” Ms. Sontag said.
— Gil Reavill— Gil Reavill
Dear Diary:Dear Diary:
I was out at 3 p.m. on a Friday. I found a bench in Union Square Park. I had a bagel in one hand, an iced coffee in the other and just sat there.I was out at 3 p.m. on a Friday. I found a bench in Union Square Park. I had a bagel in one hand, an iced coffee in the other and just sat there.
After a while, I went to catch the L. When the train came, it was crowded. I removed my bag and made my way to an open pole.After a while, I went to catch the L. When the train came, it was crowded. I removed my bag and made my way to an open pole.
As the doors were about to close, a woman with red hair jostled onto the train. She was sweating and had a backpack slung over her shoulder. She seemed fatigued, or maybe just overwhelmed, like she was taking her first real breath of the day.As the doors were about to close, a woman with red hair jostled onto the train. She was sweating and had a backpack slung over her shoulder. She seemed fatigued, or maybe just overwhelmed, like she was taking her first real breath of the day.
I noticed that her wallet seemed to be falling out of an open pocket in her backpack. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.I noticed that her wallet seemed to be falling out of an open pocket in her backpack. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
“Your bag is open,” I said.“Your bag is open,” I said.
She smiled, zipped her pack and got off at the next stop.She smiled, zipped her pack and got off at the next stop.
One morning some time after that, I sprinted to the G train, barely making it onto the last one that might get me to work on time. My alarm had not gone off. I had not had time to pack a lunch. It was raining. Hard.One morning some time after that, I sprinted to the G train, barely making it onto the last one that might get me to work on time. My alarm had not gone off. I had not had time to pack a lunch. It was raining. Hard.
After getting off at Lorimer and starting to make my way to the L, I felt a tap on my shoulder.After getting off at Lorimer and starting to make my way to the L, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Your backpack is open,” a quiet voice behind me said.“Your backpack is open,” a quiet voice behind me said.
— Sierra Lewandowski— Sierra Lewandowski
Read all recent entries and our submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter.Read all recent entries and our submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter.
Illustrations by Agnes LeeIllustrations by Agnes Lee