Sitting in the employee cafeteria at the Forest Hills subway station, Petrina explained how few jobs could remain as interesting after 30 years.

"Every day you come in," he said, pausing to answer a question for one of the many transit workers for whom he acts as a mentor. "You just never know what is going to happen. And that is one of the things I love about it."

Petrina has pursued a life in mass transit ever since he was a young child fascinated by model train sets.

"As a kid, I always loved to ride the trains," he said. "And I always wanted to know more about how they worked."

After 30 years on the job, Petrina is now one of the most senior motormen in the system. As a result, he pretty much gets to choose any tour on the some 700 miles of scenic track.

According to one of his colleagues, Petrina is "all trains." "He could tell you things about the subway that only a few people on the planet are aware of," they said.

And watching him stroll down the platform in his uniform — which fits like it’s a part of his body — one cannot help but behold the poster child for "transit pride."

Petrina said he still remembers the first time he had the controls of the train all to himself and was able to experience the freedom of driving the train through the tunnels.

"When you go out on your own, there is nothing like it," he said. "But you can’t let your mind wander, you have to always concentrate on what you are doing."

For the most part, the subway has changed very little over the past 30 years, said Petrina. But as a result of a recent increase in regulation, one finds it harder to yield to their need for speed.

"Back in the day we could get the trains up to 50 or 60 miles per hour," he said. "But now, as a result of several accidents over the years, we have to keep the cars around 45."

Petrina added that while he plans on retiring in a few years, his fascination with the subway will never come to a complete stop.

In all his years, the humble, 82-year old Jack Fein hasn’t changed his opinion about one thing. "War is a terrible tragedy," said Fein, walking along dark, creepy, windy tunnels in a Fort that was built before the Civil War. "Tens of thousands trained here and tens of thousands never came back."

Staring out at the view of the Throgs Neck Bridge, Fein recalls the roundabout path that led him to become a fixture in Queens for well over 30 years.

Fein escaped depression–ravaged Springfield, Massachusetts by joining the army in 1936. Little did he know it would bring him to Fort Totten in Queens, where he has stayed on as a museum curator after thirty years of active duty and several military conflicts.

Asked by his former commander to preserve the history of the base, which was built during the revolutionary war, Jack has taken his last standing order very seriously, giving guided tours and lecturing as a speaker. "I’m carrying on a tradition that my commanders passed on to me. To me every day is Veteran’s Day."

The museum he runs is cluttered with all kinds of memorabilia, including medals, news articles and real machine guns from Japan and Europe–all out in the open for people to see and touch and read.

Soldiers and civilians stroll in at their leisure and gasp at the elaborate collection of artifacts, and old Fein encourages people to come and visit and find out more about the past "Oh man, I can’t believe all this stuff," said one corporal.

Jack has noticed over the years that people have become less educated about what their country stands for "I’m really surprised at the lack of military and civil history people have these days, not only teenagers, but adults as well."

Asked about modern loyalty to the stars and stripes, Fein replied bitterly, "People are only patriotic in times of war." But he wasn’t all sour.

"Every November and Veterans Day there are still folks out there marching."

Humble Jack Fein says younger people marvel at his reading the Old and New Testaments before going to sleep, but in reply he offers a word of advice for the younger generations.

"As old as I am," he says. "I still don’t understand this world."

When the New York Yankees first offered him the job in 1967, Eddie Layton turned them down.

"I don’t know anything about baseball," he told them. "And besides, I live in Queens and I don’t drive."

But the Yankees came back to the mound, and threw him a curveball.

"They told me that a limo would pick me up in front of my apartment in Forest Hills before every game," he said. "And when the game ended, the limo would take me home."

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse. "You gotta deal," Layton told them.

Thirty-two years and nearly 3,000 games later, Layton is still tickling the ivories on the Hammond organ at the house that Ruth built.

Prior to taking the job with the Yankees, Layton played melodramatic organ music during soap operas on CBS. When he joined the Bronx Bombers, he initially was expected to play only between innings. But on one soggy summer afternoon, with the Yankees down by a few runs and the crowd languishing in dismay, Eddie decided to play.

He innocently put together what has become the quintessential baseball organ chord progression. The crowd immediately responded, as did the Yankees who came back to win the game.

"The owner looked at me from his box, and gave me a thumbs up," said Layton. "The next day, I got a raise."

Over the years, Layton has developed a unique repertoire, tunes he calls the "proven war-horses." At few other baseball stadiums can you hear melodies such as "The Mexican Hat Dance," or "Hava Nagila."

"I’ll play anything that works," said Layton. "Anything that gets the fans involved."

But after playing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" every game for 32 years, how do you keep the music interesting?

"What makes it exciting for me is that is it a sporting event," said Layton. "Nothing is ever the same, you never know the outcome."

If there has been one improvement at Yankee stadium in Layton’s 32 years, he says it is the quality of the hot dogs. "They are much better now that they are answering to a ‘higher authority,’" he said.

During the off-season, Layton sails his yacht, and collects model railroads, but come April, he is right back in the booth where he belongs.

"Another 25 or 30 years from now I am going to get out of this business," said Layton, on opening day. Until then… "I don’t care if I ever get back, for it’s…"