ALL ABOARD . . .

This whole New York City transit strike thing is so interesting ... I confess I haven't followed all of the negotiations, and I don't know all that much about the precise details of each side's arguments. I'm more enthralled by the idea of all of the buses and subways in New York City coming to a halt; the streets empty of those huge, smoky lumbering machines; the tunnels quiet and subway platforms bare. Imagine? Fifth and Madison Avenues closed from 23rd Street to 96th Street to everything but emergency traffic. Imagine? No cars allowed below 96th Street unless there are four or more passengers in them, between 5:00 and 11:00 a.m., and police officers standing at checkpoints to make sure this rule is enforced. Imagine? No quick and easy way to get about town in the week before Christmas -- what will the shoppers, the merchants, the tourists, do? Imagine? The photos are stunning. I can't tell yet if I'm glad that I don't have to be within city limits in these days, or if I'm wishing I was there to see this spectacle, this bizarre sort of history in the making.

But as always, and I knew this would be the case despite all the doomsday warnings of the local newscasters, New Yorkers pull through for each other. It's high drama, and there ain't nothing New Yorkers love more than high drama and another opportunity to prove their mettle.

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WHAT A NIGHTMARE . . .

Here's one of the few things I, as a New Yorker, can't stomach: the New York Yankees in a preliminary deal with former Boston Red Sox Johnny Damon.

YUCK-O.