Every week since 1976, Metropolitan Diary has published stories by, and for, New Yorkers of all ages and eras (no matter where they live now): anecdotes and memories, quirky encounters and overheard snippets that reveal the city’s spirit and heart.
For the past two years, we’ve asked for your help picking the best Diary entry of the year. Now we’re asking again.
We’ve narrowed the field to the five finalists here. Read them and vote for your favorite. The author of the item that gets the most votes will receive a print of the illustration that accompanied it, signed by the artist, Agnes Lee.
The voting closes at 11:59 p.m. on Monday, Dec. 18. You can change your vote as many times as you’d like until then, but you may only pick one. Choose wisely.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2023, and come back on Dec. 24 to find out which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2023, and come back on Dec. 24 to find out which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Subway Sandwich
Dear Diary:
I got on the Q at 96th Street. I was on my way to Hell’s Kitchen to grab a quick dinner before watching “RuPaul’s Drag Race.”
A woman got on at 86th Street and sat right next to me. She was probably in her 50s, had a full head of curly blond hair and was getting off a call since she was about to lose service.
As we approached 72nd Street, the woman searched through her purse and pulled out a sandwich: smoked salmon on pumpernickel bread.
The train was packed, but she was determined to eat this sandwich. As we approached 63rd Street, she started to rummage through her bag again. This time, she pulled out a pepper grinder.
Apparently oblivious to everyone around her, she disassembled the sandwich, ground some fresh pepper onto the salmon and put the grinder back in her bag. Then she started eating.
Now everyone was staring at her. Some people were chuckling to themselves.
“Wow,” one man said to the woman. “That was quite the experience. Never seen that one before.”
She cleared her throat and smiled.
“This is New York City,” she said. “I always carry my pepper grinder. You never know when you’ll need it.”
Birth Day
Dear Diary:
It was July 23, 2010, and I was in the labor and delivery ward at Beth Israel Hospital to give birth to my son.
My then-husband and I were excited and nervous. My mother was visiting from Montana — a vacation in the big city to meet her first grandchild.
I had been induced earlier that morning, and my labor was progressing slowly. We spent the day joking around, reviewing the baby names we had chosen, waiting for the action to really begin.
By the middle of the day, my contractions were getting stronger and coming more frequently. Late in the afternoon, my midwife decided it was time to kick things up a notch. She described the next steps: She would break my waters with the goal of strengthening contractions and speeding up labor.
“But first,” she said, “I have to move my car.”
Valuable Tips
Dear Diary:
I was taking a walk in the Wall Street area a few years ago when I decided to pop into a deli.
I ordered a sandwich and began chatting with the proprietor as he made it. Our conversation eventually turned to the shop’s location.
I asked whether being in the Financial District ever caused him to play the stock market or led to his getting valuable tips from informed customers.
He paused his sandwich-making, put down his knife and looked at me with a perplexed expression.
“Every day, those brokers come in here,” he said. “They get their bagels, sandwiches, doughnuts, coffee, cigarettes … ”
He paused again and pointed toward the door of his shop.
“ … and every day, they’re out there on the sidewalk, pushing and shoving on a door that is clearly marked ‘pull.’”
Blue Soccer Ball
Dear Diary:
During an early morning walk in Brooklyn Bridge Park with my daughter Ella, I spotted a blue soccer ball on the sidewalk adjacent to the turf fields on Pier 5.
A quick look around the area did not reveal any players who might have kicked a ball so far out of bounds. Ella asked if we could keep the ball and, after a brief moral dilemma, I picked it up and brought it with us.
When we got home, I cleaned the ball with a wipe in the kitchen sink. When I did, I discovered a name and number in faded marker. I texted the number, explained that we had found the ball and offered to return it.
“Keep it,” the reply text said. “My kids lost that ball seven years ago at that field. They’re all grown up and no longer need it. I hope your daughter enjoys it as much as they did.”
Whale Watching
Dear Diary:
My friend Tom runs a popular whale watch cruise out of Sheepshead Bay. Recently, an avid whale watcher and good friend, Buddy, died. One of Buddy’s wishes was that Tom spread his ashes on the ocean he loved so much.
So, on a beautiful summer evening, Tom canceled his usual nightly cruise and organized a private memorial service. More than 80 of Buddy’s friends and family members came to say a last goodbye.
A serious-looking young woman who sat quietly by herself was among the passengers. None of the other people, including the crew members, knew who she was.
The boat set out and the service went off very well, with lots of laughter, a few tears and people telling their favorite stories about Buddy.
When the boat returned to the dock in Brooklyn, Captain Tom spoke with everyone as they departed. When the young woman approached him, Tom thanked her for attending and said how happy he was that they had shared such a beautiful evening.
“Honestly,” she said, “this was the worst whale watch cruise I have ever been on.”
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