The thought of working in New York City sounds glamorous but--- speaking from experience---I found New York City---- inconvenient, crowded, and, dangerous.
WARNING: I am sharing the exact street language used by those I encountered during this extremely-frightening experience.
In 1981, as spokesperson for
the National Confectioners Association, I traveled from my home in Shrewsbury, New Jersey, to the heart of New York City, most every day. Whether I took the train, the bus, or drove my car-- nothing about the commute was easy. In the afternoon I tried
leaving my office no later than four o’clock. The commute from New York’s Penn Station to the Little Silver Train Station—one mile from my house--- took almost two hours.
One evening, after missing the bus to Penn station, I decided to take the NY Subway to Penn Station. I should have known better. It was six o’clock and, by now, most commuters were off the streets—in fact-- some were already
home. I knew I was over-dressed for the subway. I was wearing a silk blouse and matching straight/slit skirt, high heels, gold earrings, gold bracelets and---a gold medallion around my neck. Although I almost- never rode the subway,
it was the fastest way to connect with the train to New Jersey.
It didn’t take long to sense trouble. Within minutes of finding a seat, I watched two guys race from the back of
the subway car to sit directly across from me. Instead of looking at my face, they were staring at my neck. Feeling very uneasy, I glanced around the train, hoping to locate another seat.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, two very hippie-looking guys crammed their bodies into the small bench seat beside me---one on either side. I felt my pulse accelerate; I held my breath. This was it. The enemy had me surrounded; the bad guys
were across from me and their buddies next to me and-- I knew I was about to be grabbed, raped, and killed!
The man on my left, the one with the biggest earrings and longest ponytail--- made
the first move. Roughly hooking his right arm through my left arm, he whispered “Lady, get ready to stand up and move toward the doors—one—two---three---NOW!!!!!! Before I realized it, the other man had grabbed my right
arm and, when the subway doors opened, both men propelled me through the open doors and onto the subway platform.
Everything happened quickly as the men held tightly to my arms and directed
me forward. The subway door closed, the train pulled away, and the head man--the spokesperson--turned and shouted in my face: “Lady, do you realize you were only seconds-away from being murdered?!?!?” First of all, you shouldn’t
be riding the fuckin subway this time of day and second of all, why the hell are you wearing expensive clothes and gold jewelry on the Damn Subway?!?! Lady, do you have some crazy-ass Death Wish?!?!?!? Those guys sitting across from you were professionals!
They were ready to kill you to get that fuckin gold out of your ears, off your arm, and--- from around your neck!”
For the first time-- I noticed the guns. Seeing me eyeing their
weapons, both guys dropped my arms at the same time and flashed police badges in my face. “Lady tonight was your fuckin lucky night! You must have brought your damn guardian angel along for this ride. My name is Lennie and this is my
partner, Steno. We’re undercover cops and it’s our job to ride the subway looking for criminals, murderers, drug dealers, and thieves. Officially, we were off-duty and headed back to the station to sign out when we saw what was about to go-down
with you. The minute those bastards swapped seats we knew YOU were their target. Those shitheads were only seconds from grabbing you so-- we had to get you off the train.
assholes make their livin by robbing and killing women like you! You know how long it’d take those goons to get that gold necklace off your neck?!?!? In just three to five seconds ---one of them would have held you down while
the other one hack-sawed your fuckin head off!”
What a strange sight the three of us must have been—standing on the deserted subway platform. Evening commuters saw two long-haired,
bearded men in dirty tennis shoes, ragged jeans-- wearing grateful dead sweatshirts-- each holding a gun, and standing on either side of a tall, well-dressed female in high heels. Together, we climbed the crowded subway stairs to the busy streets above.
Before stepping on the bus bound for New Jersey--- I listened again to Lennie’s stern warning: “Never take the fuckin Subway Train when you’re all dressed up and---fit to kill!”
Steno stood close by, silent and unsmiling. They helped me on the bus and, as it pulled away from the curb, I looked out the window, hoping to wave goodbye to my unexpected heroes….but…