Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
I am sitting on the No. 1 train smushed between strangers when a four-man mariachi band jumps on the car in full regalia at 50th Street.
They instantly spot a couple with a baby sleeping in a stroller in the middle of the car and pause to look at each other, and then remain standing and smiling in silence. One of the musicians makes eye contact with me and whispers, with a wide grin, “Sleeping baby.â€
At 59th Street, the next stop, they jump out to run onto the next car to begin their rousing set. Several of us tipped them anyway for nearly playing, and respecting the baby’s sleep.
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