Tikkabik

Macworld Expo -- rechristined Macworld CreativePro -- makes its final New York City appearance next week, and I'm looking forward to it, though it will be any measure be a much smaller-scale event than past years. Going to New York is always a thrill for me, because I love the city like no other place on Earth. In many ways I feel a much stronger kinship to NYC than I do to Boston, where I was born and bred.

Anyway, a few years ago during Macworld Expo week occured one of my favorite New York moments. It was one of those situations that crystallized the city for me in an instant, and it's a story I've told over and over again.

I was taking a subway train downtown from Times Square to get my obligatory Apple dyed in my hair, heading down to Houston Street in the Village. For whatever reason, some of my colleagues are reluctant to take the subway, but I love it, despite the sometimes sweltering mid-summer heat at the midtown stations. It's a fast and convenient way to travel, and it's a lot cheaper than cab rides. So I sat down and waited for the train to pull away from the stop.

"Please step away from the dooahs," came on the voice of a train operator, a think New York accent cutting through the din of the noise from the platform and the sounds of the compressors from the (blessedly functional) air conditioning units on our car.

The doors shuddered for a moment and opened again. It was then that I realized that a guy in the next car up from us was yelling to a compatriot still on the platform, chatting about what, I don't know.

"Please step away from the dooahs," came on the conductor's voice again, clearly getting impatient at having been knocked off his schedule. The guy in the next car was clearly holding the door open with his hand, to get a few last words in to his chum.

The doors closed and opened again as the fellow kept chatting, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was holding up hundreds of other passengers.

Then the intercom crackled to life again. "Hey, chucklehead, get away from the friggin' dooahs," he blasted.

At last, the inconsiderate clod let the doors closed, a shocked look on his face, amidst a murmur of chuckles from passengers appreciative of the train operator's public recrimination.