Believe it or not, public transportation has the reputation of a Death Wish movie. As soon as you and your family gets on the subway, the bad guys get on behind you and harass your wife and kids until Charles Bronson comes along and gives them what for.
For the longest time I rode the bus, subway and train with my goods held tightly always ready for the knock-down drag-out whup-@ss that would ensue if someone tries to touch my package.
One New Year's Eve I worked a half-day and headed away from the big city when most folks were heading in for the fun.
When I set myself to sit down on the lightrail there was a thick wallet filled with cash and credit cards and pictures of black people and a Maryland driver's license.
I tried to turn in the wallet to the guards who check that your ticket is valid.
They told me to turn it in to the driver. When we got to the last stop, I tapped on the door and handed it to him.
A few weeks, or months, later, I saw the driver again and asked him if he remembered what happened to the wallet.
He said that when he called it in from our end of the station, there was a guy at Penn Station with his fingers crossed.
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Copyright © 2005 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
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