The dangers of New York City were many and varied. A careless person might fall onto subway tracks, or take the semi-mythic L train all the way to where it terminated in Hell or Queens. Someone not paying attention might have their pocket picked or get robbed in a dark alley in a bad neighborhood. A poor swimmer might slip on the deck of the Staten Island ferry and meet a wet and sorry fate in the harbor. There were dead branches waiting to fall on unsuspecting heads in central park, freak stage hand accidents that could kill a distracted broadway theater-goer, sudden onset altitude sickness in any one of the skyscrapers, or hurricanes. But of course the greatest danger in the entire city was this: that being there would cause some poor soul to fall in love with it, and find themselves forever incapable of living anywhere else in the tiny world that existed outside the five boroughs.
Written 8/3/16 on my lunch break in Battery Park for a teenage tourist from upstate.