MTA

The public transit in New York City is called the MTA.  When I got off the plane, a native of New York, I had fears about being murdered in some area of the city that I went to by mistake, lost and confused.  I thought, "We must deal with fear!"  Or at least take a stab at it.  So I found an agent with a red coat at the LaGuardia Airport Welcome Center, which was pointed out by a security guard.  I was helped to buy a Metro Card.  I deposited $20.00.  The agent told me where to find the Q70 Bus which was supposed to take me to a subway which would take me to Manhattan to transfer to another subway.  With thoughts of "Uber" limo service  dancing in my head, I chose to try the bus.  There is good signage.  I could not figure out how to put the metro ticket into the ticket machine, but the bus driver politely did it for me.  At the train stop, the only stop for this bus once it leaves the airport, I followed other people with luggage into the bowels of the subway.  I read the map.  I asked questions.  I was not murdered.  People were nice.  I got on an E train for Manhattan and took it to 7th Avenue.  A computer sign inside the air-conditioned subway car told me it was 7th Avenue.  I got off and followed signs to the D and B trains that go uptown.  I went one stop.  Voila!  I was a block from the church.  It cost me $2.75.  The President of the Paulists gave me the directions and I followed them.  My New York genes were activated.  I took public transport all around town for my week there.  I am no longer fearful.  I can do New York.  I am lining up some work for there next year when it is warm which was not the first week in June this time around.