So, last Saturday, I needed to mail a postcard, and I was heading up to Manhattan. It was most urgent I remember to keep the card in my bookbag and to go to the post office at the Port Authority so you can guess what I remembered I meant to do when I was on the subway heading away from the Port Authority.
Incidentally, on the cross-town subway a slightly overdressed fellow wheeled on a cart; I didn't pay attention until I was almost done with that leg of my journey, so I was surprised to see he was a magician, and he was in the midst of using a magic box to produce a white rabbit with black spots before our eyes. I recommend taking the magician/bunny lines if you can.
Still I assumed there would be a Post Office, or at least a mailbox, somewhere around the subway station, which was not quite as true as I hoped. On the street I started poking around, walking a block down this way and that, without seeing any hints of even a mailbox except for one which was painted rust-brown and had no openings anywhere on it. (What is the objective of those sealed mailboxes, anyway?) I considered going into an apartment building or hotel to see if they might be able to help.
And then down the street walked a guy wearing Post Office garb. Despite my shyness I asked him where a mailbox or Post Office was so I could send this postcard. He explained the nearest Post Office was three blocks down and one over and I'd need to hurry before it closed if I wanted things delivered today, and it couldn't be delivered Monday because of the holiday. (Metric Thanksgiving.) I explained it didn't matter if it was delivered today, and he repeated I'd have to go there to get it delivered today. I reassured him I didn't care when it arrived, and when he was satisfied with that he suggested he could just take the card, if I didn't mind that it wouldn't be delivered today. That was fine by me, and I gave him the card.
Naturally as he walked off with my card in hand I wondered if he actually worked for the Post Office or if he just strolled around in the uniform to see what happened to him. But several days later I got the news my card arrived successfully, so I suppose if he was a counterfeit he lived up to the expectations put on him.
Trivia: During the 19 October 1987 New York Stock Exchange crash 604 million shares traded hands, more than double the previous one-day volume record. Source: An Empire Of Wealth: The Epic History Of American Economic Power, John Steele Gordon.
Currently Reading: Forests Of The Night, S Andrew Swann. What do you know, I had forgotten the mongoose. I remembered the bunny, though.