Every night when we leave our office on 22nd and Broadway, NYC, I start complaining about taking the subway home. “Let’s take a taxi,” I usually bellow. We usually start walking half a block toward the subway entrance, but if I see a cab with its light on, I start waving my hand frantically. “Take me home. Take me home.”

Tonight there wasn’t a cab in sight. I was pacing on the sidewalk as Eliot started descending down the steps. He got half way down when all of a sudden a young woman on top of the steps started screaming “Stop that guy he has my iPhone. Stop him please.” Then like a flash of lightening some kid with an iPhone in his mouth goes flying down the steps. Eliot chases after him and prevents the guy from entering the platform by shoving him to the floor.

While this is going on the victim is still screaming “Get my phone. Get my phone.” I am half way down the stairs at this time frozen on the spot. Before I knew it, the thief breaks lose and starts running towards me in order to run up the steps and get away. By this time an army of woman barricade the exit above me and start chanting “Drop the phone. Drop the phone.”

Eliot trails the guy up the steps and one clobber later the guy drops the iPhone from his mouth on to the floor. The owner grabs her phone and starts screaming for joy. The women opened the gap to let the thief free. He turned out to be a kid and no one wanted to detain him.

Everyone started to applaud Eliot and the gal with the iPhone yelled out one big thank you to everyone and then added, “When you live in New York, everyone has your back.” Then Eliot came to retrieve me from my catatonic position. Next week Eliot and I are going to be married 33 years. I could only give him my most earnest reaction. “What the F… were you thinking? Don’t ever do that again.”