Ms. Evans murmured, "Hmmm. Well, that would take you clear through Brooklyn to New Lots Avenue."
"Not a place to be on the day of the Big Game."
"Not a thing to do," she said.
"May I take my bicycle?" I asked.
"No." Ms. Evans was firm about it.
Just before noon on Thursday, I bicycled to Bloomingdale's and clamped my bike to a signpost on Lexington Avenue. As I walked into the store I took one last look at my bike, wondering if it would be there when I got back after the Yankee game; in New York, one can never get over the sense that he's abandoning a bicycle, rather than simply leaving it to pick up later.
A friend of mine, Tom, a baseball enthusiast who is in publishing, was willing to accompany me. He met me in the store, and we descended into the subway system. When he goes to baseball games, Tom wears a black jacket with a circular pocket patch that seems to read Federal Bureau of Investigation. He says it makes him feel more confident in crowds.
I told Tom we had to go to Grand Central station to get the Flushing No. 7. But while waiting for the train (the R, the woman in the change booth said), Tom scouted around and came back to report we could catch the No. 7 farther out on the line if we took the N train.
Tom said, "The guy who told me this was adamant. He said, 'Go upstairs and take the N.' "
"Did you have confidence in him?"