'I turned around and saw my hairdresser and his friends working on a car'

Pink roses

Dear Diary:

I woke up early on a Sunday in September, somewhat grumpy for reasons I can't remember.

As I strolled through Carroll Gardens to do my shopping for the day, the nice weather lifted my spirits a little.

My last stop was a flower shop to take something home for my partner.

Later, as I walked around my block with the bouquet of pink roses I had chosen, I heard a man say, “Wow! ¡Qué lindo!”

I turned around and saw my hairdresser and his friends working on a car.

“¿Para tu novia?” he asked with a smile.

Yes, I said.

I was no longer grumpy.

– Addison West

Backward Cinderella

Dear Diary:

It was 2009 and I was 23. I was sitting at a bar in Midtown with four of my best friends. We had tickets to a Girl Talk concert.

My best friend was dating my boss at the time, and it slowly but surely drove a wedge between her and me. It all came to a head that day over a pitcher of margaritas. We exploded at each other and she left for the show.

I stepped out of the bar into the sunlight. My attention was drawn to a man driving a pedicab. He smiled and asked with a Turkish accent if I wanted a ride.

“I'm with my friends,” I said.

He gestured for a second taxi driver, who later turned out to be his roommate, to come over.

“Me too,” he said. “We will take you wherever you want to go.”

We hopped into the pedicabs and went on an all-night adventure.

The driver and I started dating. We often met in Central Park, where he also drove a horse and buggy.

For eight months I felt like a retarded Cinderella, meeting him when his shift ended at midnight. Times Square looked magical as we drove through on our way back to the stables.

Ten years later, a friend and I were walking through Times Square. I hadn't been there in years and told her about that time in my life.

Just then a horse and cart pulled up next to us, and a voice called out to me. It was my ex's roommate.

– Sam Marine

To La Guardia

Dear Diary:

I got lost near the battery while rushing to return my rental car to La Guardia airport. I was in danger of missing my flight.

This was a few years ago and I didn't have an app or even a map to guide me. Panicking, I stopped behind a long line of yellow taxis. I ran to the first one and asked the driver if he could take me to the airport as quickly as possible.

He asked where I was going.

Calgary, I said.

He said he was an opera singer and had performed there.

We agreed on a price and off we went, driving as fast as the law allowed. Soon we drove into the car rental lot.

The taxi driver jumped out and let out a stirring tenor. We hugged and I was able to catch my plane just in time.

– Joan Vickers

Angel

Dear Diary:

I lived on the Upper West Side in the 1980s. I worked from home and alternate parking gave my day structure. Every other day I would get up, double park my 1974 Dodge Dart at 9am, return home and then come back and move it to a legal spot.

One Thursday I got up at 9am and couldn't find my car keys and couldn't remember where I parked the Dart. I rushed out to the street and saw that the cars on the block that had not been moved already had tickets. Mine wasn't one of them.

As I walked past the double-parked cars across the street, I saw the Dart. I was confused. When did I move it? I still didn't have my keys. The car was locked and they were not in it.

I saw a note on the windshield: See Angel, the mechanic at the Broadway Hotel.

At the hotel I found Angel among a group of men talking outside. He said he had seen me in the neighborhood and noticed two days earlier that I had left my keys in the ignition.

Not wanting the car to be stolen, he took the keys and left the note. When I came out late that morning, he moved the car so it wouldn't get a ticket.

– Bob Botfeld

Sudden stops

Dear Diary:

I was walking behind a woman walking her dog in Manhattan.

The dog suddenly stopped and I almost bumped into them both.

I started apologizing. The woman turned to me and smiled.

“No brake lights,” she said.

We both laughed.

About half an hour later I was standing at the register at Trader Joe's. I started walking forward and then stopped. The woman behind me gently nudged me with her shopping cart.

She started to apologize. I turned around and smiled.

“No brake lights,” I said.

– Carey Horwitz

Read all recent entries and our submission guidelines. Reach us by email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter.

Illustrations by Agnes Lee