In a week chockablock with wrong turns, perhaps none was more explicitly errant than that taken by Russian semi-supermodel Tatyana Simanava, who while cruising along at 50 miles per hour through an unfashionable district of Brooklyn opened the wrong door when leaving the bathroom of the RV in which she was traveling—the one that exited directly to the Gowanus Expressway asphalt.

In retrospect, it seems like such a simple plan: Assassinate Bill Gates, steal nuclear material from Area 51 in Nevada, and blow up the bridges leading to and from America’s commercial capital—Staten Island.

Was there anyone in the city last week who wasn’t having second thoughts of some kind?

If the city had Moses on the brain last week, it wasn’t merely because Passover left some in a reflective mode.

It should have been a peaceful week in the Big Apple.

If New Yorkers had trouble relating to the suffering of the French students rioting over not having inviolate civil-service job security, at least we understood where their Tourism minister was coming from when he declared, “We are currently in a situation of blockage.”

Had Chuck Jones and Holden Caulfield colla-borated on a nature documentary to mark the arrival of spring, it might have been similar to the scenario that unfolded in Central Park last week.

The week began with a brush of spring, as temperatures hit the seventies. Though it got much chillier, we couldn’t seem to shake the seventies after that.

You remember how you felt about tourists coming to New York after 9/11. Even though you thought it might somehow feel wrong, it somehow felt right. Now you’d like to go to Madrid.

Before there was Tony Soprano, there was Joe Piscopo, the original "Joisey" guy. Then came the Hollywood flameout and ten years in the wilderness. Now he's tied his comeback hopes to Newark's revival: If he can make it there, he'll make it anywhere.