Bad Noise
When I got up this morning, I had no idea it was going to be such a tough day. I had to conduct a 6:30 staff meeting, and I still had crap to prepare for said meeting. At 5:00 the world dawned bright and sunny, my cat gave me an uncustomarily warm greeting and I was in the shower in seconds. After dressing and eating something I made the mistake of turning on the radio in the car. Damn. London. Attack...9/11 all over again...
We were on our way back to New York on Tuesday morning for one last hurrah in the city. We had missed the last ferry to the Statue of Liberty on Monday, partly because we had spent way too much time walking from 42nd street to the Carnegie Deli for a goddamned pastrami sandwich the size of a truck, so now we were back. We dove from Easton to Hoboken that morning without any cares. We were all together, it was a wonderful morning without a cloud in the sky (unlike the very wet and thunderstorm-strewn day we had spent in the city on Monday). All was good. I savor recollecting that day's feelings...kind of like the last streak of innocence before you lost your virginity...but dread the flood that is sure to follow.
When we arrived in Hoboken, we went to the same parking garage on 4th & River that we had patronized the day before. Hey, we'd parked there all freakin day and didn't have a busted-out window...so why not tempt fate again? Actually, Hoboken has become quite upscale lately, and the riff-raff that I was used to dealing with growing up had been shooed away from these once mean streets with little fanfare.
My dad, his wife, my wife, my daughter and I all exited the garage and started walking towards the old Delaware, Lackawanna & Western railroad terminal that now housed New Jersey Transit and the PATH tubes. We wanted to use the PATH to take us to lower Manhattan so we could catch the subway at Cortland Street and head south to Battery Park. After that we'd be one of the first to get on the Statue of Liberty ferries, which began running at 9:00. We were a little late, but nobody cared. There were departures every 20 minutes, and we'd still be able to take all the time we wanted. I was looking forward to crawling all the way to the top. I'd grown up in New York and New Jersey and never made it to the top of the Statue. I was proud that my 4-year-old was going to be able to look out of her crown on such a great day. I felt good. I was doing a better job than my parents did.
About 2/3 of the way there I noticed something funny out of the corner of my eye. It had passed as a glimpse between two buildings. I stopped. I remember it being the strangest thing I could have ever seen...like it was some sculpture in the park the next block over that had some black plume waving off the top of it. It appeared to be floating in mid-air. Almost as soon as I had stopped I backed up to get a better look. I know I had a bewildered smirk on my face, because I remember how it felt when it dropped away.
Every hair on my body stood straight on end as I realized what I had mistaken for sculpture was the North Tower of the World Trade Center (the Twin Towers). It was obviously on fire. MASSIVELY ON FIRE. I didn't--no--I couldn't speak. My wife was the first to notice that I had stopped. I was still halfway through the block when they were just about to cross the next street. She says she called to me and that I didn't respond, so she tried to see what I was looking at. At just about the same moment, people started pouring into the street to witness what was going on. I raced up and rejoined my family, who now had a plain view of what I had been staring at.
Regret is a really funny thing, don't ya know. I found myself amused for a moment, jovially speculating that this was the result of some dude smoking in the restroom on the 70th floor. A few of the younger people in the growning crowd seemed to be cracking jokes and making light of what was going on. I wasn't cracking jokes, but I sure was trying to make light of it. DAMN. I have asked for forgiveness so many times for that one. I truly do regret my choice. I really had no idea.
Then, out of nowhere, the second plane hit. We were far enough away for the sound to be delayed a bit, and it felt like we were watching a TV show with the soundtrack on delay. The roar of the 767 was apparent, and actually caused me to focus on it some time (maybe 10 seconds) before it actually hit. It was hauling ass, for sure. I remember thinking "damn, what is up with that plane...is it heading for LaGuardia? It sure is low, but wow--isn't it going kind of fast? No gear down. Wait...where's it...OH MY GOD, NOOOO!"
All of us gasped. No more laughing. Some screamed. Most just stood there dumbfounded. I did as well until I droped to my knees and bent over. I can still feel the bile welling up in my throat like it did that morning. I nearly vomited, but managed to keep control. We left almost immediately, knowing that getting into the city would be a feat beyond our means, unwilling to find out what would happen next.
We returned to my Dad's place and experienced the remainder of the day through our TV.
This is the first time I've written this down.
I wish nothing but the mercy and comfort of peace upon those who are suffering from today's attacks. An Irish Blessing:
May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
We were on our way back to New York on Tuesday morning for one last hurrah in the city. We had missed the last ferry to the Statue of Liberty on Monday, partly because we had spent way too much time walking from 42nd street to the Carnegie Deli for a goddamned pastrami sandwich the size of a truck, so now we were back. We dove from Easton to Hoboken that morning without any cares. We were all together, it was a wonderful morning without a cloud in the sky (unlike the very wet and thunderstorm-strewn day we had spent in the city on Monday). All was good. I savor recollecting that day's feelings...kind of like the last streak of innocence before you lost your virginity...but dread the flood that is sure to follow.
When we arrived in Hoboken, we went to the same parking garage on 4th & River that we had patronized the day before. Hey, we'd parked there all freakin day and didn't have a busted-out window...so why not tempt fate again? Actually, Hoboken has become quite upscale lately, and the riff-raff that I was used to dealing with growing up had been shooed away from these once mean streets with little fanfare.
My dad, his wife, my wife, my daughter and I all exited the garage and started walking towards the old Delaware, Lackawanna & Western railroad terminal that now housed New Jersey Transit and the PATH tubes. We wanted to use the PATH to take us to lower Manhattan so we could catch the subway at Cortland Street and head south to Battery Park. After that we'd be one of the first to get on the Statue of Liberty ferries, which began running at 9:00. We were a little late, but nobody cared. There were departures every 20 minutes, and we'd still be able to take all the time we wanted. I was looking forward to crawling all the way to the top. I'd grown up in New York and New Jersey and never made it to the top of the Statue. I was proud that my 4-year-old was going to be able to look out of her crown on such a great day. I felt good. I was doing a better job than my parents did.
About 2/3 of the way there I noticed something funny out of the corner of my eye. It had passed as a glimpse between two buildings. I stopped. I remember it being the strangest thing I could have ever seen...like it was some sculpture in the park the next block over that had some black plume waving off the top of it. It appeared to be floating in mid-air. Almost as soon as I had stopped I backed up to get a better look. I know I had a bewildered smirk on my face, because I remember how it felt when it dropped away.
Every hair on my body stood straight on end as I realized what I had mistaken for sculpture was the North Tower of the World Trade Center (the Twin Towers). It was obviously on fire. MASSIVELY ON FIRE. I didn't--no--I couldn't speak. My wife was the first to notice that I had stopped. I was still halfway through the block when they were just about to cross the next street. She says she called to me and that I didn't respond, so she tried to see what I was looking at. At just about the same moment, people started pouring into the street to witness what was going on. I raced up and rejoined my family, who now had a plain view of what I had been staring at.
Regret is a really funny thing, don't ya know. I found myself amused for a moment, jovially speculating that this was the result of some dude smoking in the restroom on the 70th floor. A few of the younger people in the growning crowd seemed to be cracking jokes and making light of what was going on. I wasn't cracking jokes, but I sure was trying to make light of it. DAMN. I have asked for forgiveness so many times for that one. I truly do regret my choice. I really had no idea.
Then, out of nowhere, the second plane hit. We were far enough away for the sound to be delayed a bit, and it felt like we were watching a TV show with the soundtrack on delay. The roar of the 767 was apparent, and actually caused me to focus on it some time (maybe 10 seconds) before it actually hit. It was hauling ass, for sure. I remember thinking "damn, what is up with that plane...is it heading for LaGuardia? It sure is low, but wow--isn't it going kind of fast? No gear down. Wait...where's it...OH MY GOD, NOOOO!"
All of us gasped. No more laughing. Some screamed. Most just stood there dumbfounded. I did as well until I droped to my knees and bent over. I can still feel the bile welling up in my throat like it did that morning. I nearly vomited, but managed to keep control. We left almost immediately, knowing that getting into the city would be a feat beyond our means, unwilling to find out what would happen next.
We returned to my Dad's place and experienced the remainder of the day through our TV.
This is the first time I've written this down.
I wish nothing but the mercy and comfort of peace upon those who are suffering from today's attacks. An Irish Blessing:
May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
posted by oldman71 at 21:04
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