An alert “06880” reader writes:
A man at the Westport railroad station told me: “I left my wallet in my son’s apartment in New York. I just got off here to go back to the city to get it. I hope the conductor lets me on.”
He said he was on his way to New Haven, to help his daughter move into a new apartment. He used to work for an ad agency. He looked like an aging hippie — with shoulder-length hair, a backpack and shorts — but he seemed credible.
I gave him $20. We all depend on the kindness of others, I thought. He asked for my name and address, so he could send me the money. He bought a ticket, and boarded the train.
Of course, I never received the money. It made me a little uncomfortable, as I’d given him my name and address. But I soon forgot about it.
Until yesterday. I saw the same man, again at the station.
He also saw me. He headed to the other end of the platform, and quickly put on sunglasses (though he wore the same distinctive clothes).
A young man give him money, as he got on the train. When I asked, the young man said he’d only given him $6, and “it probably means more to him than to me.”
I hope “06880” is a good venue to let naive people like me know they should be careful — and that some local con artists are pretty convincing.
On the other hand, Molly Alger writes:
I’m recovering from significant shoulder surgery. This afternoon, to regain my strength, I went for a walk. My right arm and shoulder were encased in a sling and wide brace.
As I headed down Roseville Road to the Post Road, a bright candy apple-red convertible, top down — driven by a handsome young man — pulled over.
I figured he wanted directions.
Instead, he asked if I needed a ride.
It’s been many years since a good-looking young man has tried to pick me up. How way beyond nice is that?!