Anthony Weiner Hits Campaign Trail in Circuslike Outing By Christopher Cascarano Anthony D. Weiner on the Campaign Trail: Mr. Weiner made his first public appearances on Thursday after announcing his mayoral bid on Wednesday. He was the wisecracking know-it-all, asking a voter originally from Wyoming if his neighbors "have running water and indoor plumbing there yet." He was the astute policy wonk, telling a middle-aged man that the real solution to affordable housing was to "have a tax for the very, very super wealthy apartments - $10 million ones." And he was the civic superman, swooping up a nanny's stroller in his arms and carrying it down a steep flight of subway stairs. "Have a great day," he told her, as cameras captured every second. Anthony D. Weiner, the long exiled, ostracized and written-off former congressman, re-emerged on New York City's political stage on Thursday as his essential self, at once gratingly self-mythologizing and charmingly self-effacing. He told a young woman in Harlem she should remember Thursday as the day she had met him on her way to the White House. His suggested recollection: "Little bit skinny, big nose, but I liked him. And he inspired me. She walked away, slightly dazed. He exhausted a subway heckler named Lori Coad who sought but failed to outsmart him, hurling question after question about education and homelessness, which he deftly parried. "What else?" he asked her. She brought up his raunchy tweets: "Stop going online and texting stuff, man. Leave that alone. "You know, we were doing so well there," Mr. Weiner told her, in mock disappointment as the train erupted in laughter. I a-a-a-almost got off this train with everything going fine. Even in a city that relishes its over-the-top political spectacles (Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani announcing the breakup of his marriage at a news conference, followed by his wife, Donna Hanover, who countered with her own, indignant speech) there was a singularly circuslike quality to Mr. Weiner's first day on the campaign trail. He began at 125th Street and Lenox Avenue in Harlem, dipped underground onto the subway, then returned to the streets of Lower Manhattan, trailed at all times by a few dozen reporters and a handful of police officers called in to keep the peace. His new press secretary, Barbara Morgan, served as a de facto crossing guard, shepherding Mr. Weiner and the reporters with him as they were about to step into traffic. Mr. Weiner seemed determined to withstand every last inquiry, in a form of public catharsis, just as he did the afternoon he acknowledged his misdeeds nearly two years ago to the day in 2011. Why exactly was he running now? "It was a process of figuring out what felt right for the city, what felt right for me," he told reporters. I apologize if I inconvenienced you with the scheduling. Who would run his campaign's social media operations? "What's that?" he asked mischievously. Would he reveal the contents of the texts he sent to women? "The New York Post already asked me that yesterday," he retorted. Ever the micromanager, he repeatedly sought to stage-manage the morning. At one point, as he left the subway at 14th Street, he paused, considering the best shot for photographers as he approached the turnstiles. "You wanna get on the other side?" he said, not so much as a question but as a recommendation. By 9 a.m., he reached his next destination, WNYC-FM in SoHo, where he planned to sit for a live interview. He bid the press goodbye, in a strangely formal way, all but thanking them for tagging along for the show. "I hope that the morning was fruitful," he said.