And the “Most Friendly” awards go to… a Parisian and a New Yorker.

In an earlier post today, I mentioned the wonderful help bestowed upon me in the Paris metro system by an elderly Parisian. When I landed in JFK this afternoon I had a similar problem: two suitcases, a computer and the determination to avoid the steep cab fare. There is a new train link to Manhattan, but it’s not an obvious connection. As I leave the customs area, I encounter a scruffy guy with a sack and a backpack. We are clearly headed in the same direction. Within seconds, he is wheeling one of my suitcases, leading the way, explaining where you get on and off to catch the Long Island train, eventually helping me up Penn Station steps.

He is a writer – splitting his time between eating peanut butter sandwiches in Paris and living in a basement room in the East Village. He is working on his first novel (read his book when it comes out in a year or so -- the title is “Rode” and St. Martin’s Press is interested). But let me say this: he saved my skin at JFK and he told many a good story too. It was a nice transition from Europe to New York.