THERAPEUTIC ATTENTION. I just wanted to see if the mail was coming.

As I craned out the door, a gray-haired, unshaven man in a T-shirt veered towards me.

"Say, I wonder if you can help me out," he opened in the kind of scratchy deep voice I associate with sizable quantities of smoke and booze. I prepared to be hit up for money, but it turned out the man had a different agenda.

"Listen...where can a guy from California get some therapeutic attention...like from a woman for about $400...."

I always try to be helpful to tourists, but I didn't know to respond to this one. Times were when I could've just pointed him toward a streetwalker or a building two doors down. But times have changed. That bulding is now an Econo Lodge.

"I'm sorry," I answered. "I don't do that kind of thing."

"Oh come on, man," he pleaded. "There's got to be some place to look this kind of thing up."

"Well, I hear people use Craigslist."

"Craigslist!"

"Yeah, you look it up under--"

"Where do I find Craigslist?"

"It's on the computer--."

"Computer? Where am I going to find a computer?"

"Well, there's the public library," I ventured just before picturing this horndog browsing through escort ads at the Science, Industry, and Business Library at the grand old B. Altman building.

"A computer's no good," the man said desperately. "Isn't there some paper where you look up ads in the back and--"

"Oh yeah, sure. There's The Village Voice and--"

"The Village Voice? Where can I buy The Village Voice?"

"Oh, it's free. You just have to find a box on the sidewalk...."

By this point the man was already about 15 yards away from me.

"You're welcome!" I shouted as he raced off in search of $400 therapy.

I didn't even get a chance to mention New York Press.


Photo: David Marc Fischer