Dear Officer A-Train,

I want you to know that I feel your pain, I really do. If I were required to wear seven different heavy things on my belt, plus a leather-bound summons book stuffed in one back pocket and an orange safety vest wadded up in the other, I'd be fidgeting nonstop and pulling up my pants and shifting from leg to leg too. There's got to be a better way -- perhaps you've thought about submitting a petition to the department demanding cargo pants? I'd be happy to sign it. Or those many-pocketed khaki vests that sexy, daring combat zone photographers always wear in the movies (we'll special-order them in black for you). I sympathize with the indignity of having to clip your cell phone directly onto your belt buckle because there isn't an inch of free space anywhere else on your person.

However -- and please don't take offense, as I assure you none is meant -- it occurred to me this morning that perhaps watching the stalwart representative of the NYPD doing the belt version of the pee-pee dance for 45 blocks straight will not exactly strike fear into the hearts of the terrorists. When you're so completely preoccupied with your own midriff it must be really hard to, you know, scan the subway car for suspicious activity and suchlike. Also, I couldn't help noticing that you've chosen a holster with no snap closure on the top; I don't mind telling you, sir, that the accessibility of the gun on one hip, especially while you're busy trying to untangle the gas mask from the walkie-talkie on the other hip, makes me a little nervous. Finally, and this is of course just a suggestion from a concerned citizen, you might think about guarding a subway car that doesn't already have the conductor in it. Spread the authority out a little, you know?

Yours sincerely,
Girl in Red Tank Top with Headphones