When New Yorkers See Something, They Say Something

Last year, 1,944 people saw something and said something. —Ad for 1-888-NYC-SAFE, the MTA Tipline

Call #23: “A bird was riding the train! Well, maybe it wasn’t riding the train, but it was on the train. Anyway, how cute is that?”
Call #68: “I-ay ink-thay e-thay anmay itting-say ext-nay o-tay e-may isay a-ay errorist-tay.”
Call #103: “Pat Foster, citizen watchdog and eagle eye, reporting from the M86. All is well. Pat Foster out.”
Call #211: “There was this crazy woman walking through the train, and she was saying all this crazy-woman stuff. What? No, I’m not from around here.”
Call #393: “I’ve discovered a bus driver shaped like the Virgin Mary!”
Call #449: “Know what I saw? The !@$% Metrocard reader not working, that’s what I !@$%&# saw!”
Call #570: “Pat Foster, citizen watchdog and eagle eye, reporting from the M72. A teenager has boarded the bus with a backpack. No bomb currently visible, but covert investigation still in progress. In the meantime, requesting immediate backup, including robot backup.”
Call #571: “Oh, wait, no, he’s getting off. Pat Foster out.”
Call #702: “Do you have a minute to talk about Barack Obama?”
Call #821: “I saw this group of maybe twenty people, all dressed in different clothes, but they were riding the subway at the same time. Then I got off and I saw this big crowd moving up the stairs kind of fast, like they were in a hurry, so I got right to the street and called. And now I see a payphone.”
Call #909: “Danny DeVito! He was riding the bus!”
Call #952: “I saw this smug little dork wearing a Red Sox cap. Who does that kid think he is?”
Call #1121: “Okay, so this foreign girl’s sitting across from me, and she is so out of my league, but after a couple stops I figure what the heck, you know? So I smile at her. And she totally smiles back. What do you mean, ‘Is that it?’”
Call #1328: “If I smell something, can I still call in?”
Call #1444: “Pat Foster, citizen watchdog and eagle eye, with this month’s Pat Foster Suspicion Update. The Tuesday before last I was on the Staten Island Ferry, when I … hello?”
Call #1679: “Here’s a tip – single white male seeks sultry-sounding tipline operator for drinks, dancing, and romance.”
Call #1680: “Point taken. But if I do catch a terrorist, will you go out with me then?”
Call #1817: “I was sitting on the L train when I suddenly saw the entire realm of human experience condensed in my car. Our hopes, our fears, our secret shames – they were all reflected in the hand-smudged metal and the gum-speckled seats, in the restless faces and the crumpled newspapers and the silent electrical pulse of the third rail. It was at that moment that I knew I was going to grad school.”
Call #1944: “Pat Foster, citizen watchdog and eagle eye. I’m taking the Acela to Boston next weekend. Do you have their tip number?”

 —DAVID LITT