I Almost Became A Real New Yorker

My late aunt used to say that you weren't a real New Yorker until you saw a dead body. Therefore I almost earned my Gothamite stripes last night when a smiling young man climbed down onto the subway tracks at 68th Street, then started taking off his clothes while walking back and forth on the wooden cover over the third rail. The FDNY arrived within less than five minutes to coax the guy back to the platform's edge, where they hoisted him up for a ride to Bellevue. Gory suicide averted. But the guy left his backpack on the rails (and there was an electrical smell) so they had to shut the 6 line down anyway, forcing me to cab it to Tribeca for Blowoff. Crazy dude, you owe me twenty bucks.