A 4 A.M. Encounter With New York’s Finest

Dear Diary:

It was the mid-1980s, and the four of us â€" three men, one woman â€" were returning from some downtown clubbing (the Limelight, most likely). Down in the 14th Street station it was fairly deserted â€" not surprising for 4 a.m., but also because of the scariness of the place. We’d seen blood and broken glasses on the sidewalk at Union Square and my longtime local host had warned us not to walk around there after dark, even though some of us were relatively big guys.

Two cops approached the young woman with us, who was standing a few feet away, looking tired but still beautiful in her big ’80s hair, short skirt, long legs and heels. They chatted with her for a short bit and then walked over to us, looking stern. “What are you fools doing leaving a woman like that standing over there by herself?” one admonished us. “Get your dumb butts over there!” So, sheepishly, we walked over to her.

“I guess it’s nice to have New York’s finest looking out for us here,” one of us shrugged.

“Yeah, right,” she replied. “Both of those guys just hit on me and when I said no, they went over to hassle you!”

Read all recent entries and our updated submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter using the hashtag #MetDiary.