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En route, November 24, to the traditional Thanksgiving dinner given by dear friends on Manhattan’s West Side, I emerged from the Broadway No. 1 train at West 86th Street.  Whenever I am at that location, I go to the newsstand on Broadway at 86th Street for a copy, if available, of The Washington Post.
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There was one copy of the paper at the newsstand, but with $6 scrawled on the front page, I assumed it was a remaining copy from the previous Sunday; the price of a Sunday Washington Post is $6 to match the cost of a newsstand copy of a Sunday New York Times. The newsstand agent told me that the paper was for Thursday and, checking, I saw that “Thursday” was indeed the day of the week on the copy. I took the paper and, telling the agent that the price must be a mistake, I handed him three $1 bills — $3 being the price of the daily Washington Post (along with the newsstand price of a daily New York Times. He took the money, and I began to walk away — when he stopped me and said, looking at his smartphone, “The price is $6.” My immediate response: I took the three $1 bills from his hand, saying “Then forget it.”
There is a sidewalk vegetable and fruit vendor around the corner on West 86th Street, just east of Broadway. Leaving the newsstand without The Washington Post for November 24, I asked the dealer if he sold lettuce.  “No,” he answered, “too expensive.”  I walked back to Broadway and headed to a market on the west side of Broadway at 85th Street, for a cup of coffee.
As I was about to serve myself (the coffee at the market being the reasonable price, for these times, of $1.50 for a small cup), I asked if the store carried lettuce. “Yes,” one of the cashiers answered, “but it is expensive.”  Upon further inquiry, I learned that iceberg lettuce, as well as the romaine variation, was six dollars at this market, the same price as iceberg lettuce in my corner of The Bronx.
