NANCY “I’m Doing a Beatle!” Shevell marched into the Metropolitan Trans portation Authority boardroom with a frown on her face and a headband on her noggin — looking angry, unwashed and severely jet-lagged.
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I had two questions to ask Dame Nancy, MTA board member and jet-setter, after the meeting:
1. “Nancy, do you regret skipping Monday’s Finance Committee meeting?” That was the first step in the mass screwing of city commuters, who now must pay a lot more for less. But Nancy was busy cavorting in London with her paramour, Paul McCartney.
“Excuse me,” Nancy barked at my question. Standing at an elevator bank, she turned her back on me, trying to pretend I was an insect one might just flick away.
Anxiously pushing the elevator button, Nancy left me no choice but to ask another, probing question.
2. “Hey, Nancy, will you quit your post on the MTA board?” Now that a former Beatle is making heavy demands on the dame’s “quality” time, it seems only right.
Ignoring me took every inch of Nancy’s effort. She turned to face the elevator. Dang it! Will that thing ever come? Which left me plenty of time to ask Question No. 3.
“Ma’am!” I shrieked, making sure the self-important flower could hear. “Will you answer the questions or not?”
At that, Nancy Shevell, an MTA board member by default, a rock star by osmosis, public servant by force, finally turned on her heel and scowled square in my face. She snarled:
“I spoke publicly about it . . .” she started to say. What the . . .?
But before I could ask what the hell she was talking about — I have yet to see a single comment in which Nancy discussed, publicly or otherwise, her abject disdain for her duties on the MTA board — the elevator came.
As I tried to enter, out of the hallway came armed MTA security guards. At least five surrounded her. The MTA said Nancy had requested no extra security, but the guys showed up, uninvited, to help. Which means your taxpayer dollars were spent to protect Nancy from . . . me.
“You can’t get in,” snapped a guard.
And she was gone.
Other board members congregated in the hallway, begging to be interviewed. But what could they say?
The little people now will pay a hell of a lot more. And Nancy jets off without a care.
There is no room on the board for a rock star.