The MTA, forever broke, is auctioning off your lost valuables in a desperate attempt to line its pockets. Losing a Kindle on the subway is your fault alone. But what about things the subway has taken from you? We can think of a few items we are owed.
An aggregated 57 minutes lost while waiting for the uptown F train to pick you up at 2nd Avenue/Lower East Side, only to be reminded, for the dozenth time, that for inexplicable reasons that train doesn't run on weekends.
Childhood wonder lost by untold thousands of tots who witnessed hundreds of drunken Santas singing dirty Christmas carols during Santacon.
Innocence lost after walking onto an idling car to find a grown man slouched in his chair, pants around his ankles, mid-bowel movement.
Hearing loss caused by placing your ear against the PA system in a failed attempt to decipher a subway conductor's famously mumbled announcements.
Pride lost after nature put in a harshly-timed call and forced you to take a whiz while stuck on an L train at the depths of the East River at 3:30 am. It happened to a friend.
Any chance of getting lucky lost after bearing your translucent chicken legs on public transportation during the No-Pants subway ride.
Got it, MTA? If you see something, pay something.