New York proves friendly from Manhattan to Bed-Stuy

The last time our family vacationed in New York City nearly a decade ago, fear tagged along - especially after we accidentally broke a couple of laws during the Homeland Security Advisory System's "Orange Alert" indicating a "High Risk of Terrorist Attacks."

Having forgotten to renew my driver's license on my birthday that year, I was driving illegally when our 1994 Dodge Caravan got caught in the wrong traffic lane and I had no choice but to blow through the EZ Pass lanes on the George Washington Bridge without paying the $6 toll. Our rusty, old van, packed with toys from our three young sons and featuring a video-player/TV tethered to a metal milk crate duct-taped to the arm rests between the front seats, looked as if it were wired to explode. All that it lacked was a "Death to America" bumper sticker. My mom, riding shotgun, feared a SWAT team would take us out before we made it over the bridge.

We returned home to nothing more than a threatening letter and fine, and the city toll collectors even dropped the fine after we sent them a check for $6 stapled to a handwritten letter explaining that we were hillbillies who were confused by the big-city ways.

Last week, when we cruised into New York City every day from my sister's house in New Jersey, our 2003 minivan's I-PASS transponder automatically paid the now-$12 toll and I had no trouble changing lanes at the last minute if needed. I initially chalked up the newfound courtesy of New York commuters to the "Student Driver" bumper sticker we still sported from those times our 16-year-old sons drove during the 26-hour round trip. But we found lots of evidence of pleasant and polite New Yorkers.

At Katz's Delicatessen on the Lower East Side, the boss came to our table, started a conversation and said nice things about Chicago while tourists (including us) took time from munching on $15.75 pastrami sandwiches to snap photos of the spot where Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal shared a memorable moment in "When Harry Met Sally." At Amy Ruth's soul food restaurant in Harlem - where our teen boys ordered The Rev. Al Sharpton (chicken and waffles for $9.75), our youngest took home leftovers from The Ludacris (chicken wings for $12.95) and my wife and I gobbled up every morsel of honey-dipped fried chicken and collard greens in The Reggie Harris ($14.25) - the waiter gave us a free order of cornbread to take home to our New Jersey relatives.

The folks at New York University, where our tour included a family from Grayslake, couldn't have been more accommodating. Days spent in the vast halls of the American Museum of Natural History and the tight quarters of the Tenement Museum were great fun and educational. Biking around Central Park, the nation's oldest landscaped park, and strolling along the High Line, the new elevated park that runs along an old train line through Manhattan, offered escapes from any stress of urban life.

But one of our most enjoyable experiences came from the unexpected kindness of strangers in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn. Back in the 1980s, when my wife worked for Woman's Day and lived above a diner in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Greenpoint, the nearby Bed-Stuy neighborhood was known for racial tension, drugs and violence.

We were wandering the streets of Bed-Stuy looking for the block where Spike Lee filmed "Do The Right Thing," when we were approached by a friendly woman walking her son home from school. She asked if we were lost or needed any help. When we explained our quest, she walked with us most of the way and explained how she was a 15-year-old extra in that movie. She showed us where Mike Tyson used to box and where Spike Lee used to film. Another resident, a man about 40, heard our conversation and showed us the hardware store that was Danny Aiello's pizzeria in that movie and pointed out that much of the action took place on the steps of the brownstone where he now lives.

Our trip to NYC included a visit to the solemn, haunting World Trade Center memorial to all the victims of Sept. 11. But the sorrow, loss, anger and fear that memorial evokes seems out of place with the rest of our spring break memories of hanging with relatives, fun trips to the city and, yep, friendly New Yorkers.