Update from my sister near ground zero>
The Michael she refers to is her boyfriend, from the Blue man group..He lives in NYC, she lives here in Chicago, but she is visiting there for the last 2 weeks.
I only post this so those of us not directly involved can get a sense of what it is like in lower Manhattan.
So Earthlink is, like, out in the Northeast, which means we had no
e-mail for some time I found a Chicago dialup number and so far so
good.
We are below 14th Street, at 11th street. and if you've been watching
the news you'll know that everything below 14th is "closed." There are
check points and police all over (and national guard-looking folks
further uptown), and barricades at sidestreets. Last night Hudson, the
major street we're just off of, was full of ambulances. Up and down, up
and down, sirens at regular intervals. It's a route to Chelsea Piers
(not that they're taking anyone there) and also we're not far from St.
Vincent's Hospital. Michael's roommate brought clothes there yesterday
(for survivors) He also said at that point
(5PM or so) that the shelves of the corner place had been picked clean
of bread and produce.
Michael and his roommate were watching The Event on TV Tues AM when the
second plane hit. (From their vantage point it looked like an
explosion, a fact which Michael later repeated endlessly to anyone who'd
listen until we got access to cable). A few minutes later they lost the
broadcast, because the transmitters were on top of the WTC. Now we are
stuck with sucky Channel 2, which comes from the Empire State Building.
"We're getting cable," Michael's roommate said last night.
As for me, I was coming out of yoga at Chelsea Piers (now a triage
center and walking with a friend when I noticed a huge puff of smoke. I
said, "That doesn't seem right." We turned a corner and her mother
grabbed us and said, "You have to see this. The WTC is on fire." We
went and looked (we were on a little island near where 8th Ave turns
into Hudson) and at that point people were upset, but just one building
was on fire and it seemed like a freak accident. Then the second one
started, and it everyone got really scared and nervous. We thought it
was a bomb, the second one, until a guy next to me (everyone was on cell
phones, there was a huge crowd) said it was a plane. Everyone got more
upset. On the way back to Michael's there were crowds of the people
standing on Houston, staring. AT that point both buildings were
standing, and it was a beautiful, cloudless day. The biggest crowds
were gathered around card with the radios full-on and the doors open.
Every once in awhile an ambulance would head north. There were also
little groups of poll watchers or electioneers or whatever they were, in
matching T-shirts, also listening to radios.
I found Michael and the roommate in the living room, staring at the
blank TV screen and listening to NPR. I drooped off my yoga mat and
grabbed a camera. When I took a picture (both buildings still standing)
a guy walking by said, "That's sick. That's sick."
We spent much of yesterday at Michael's friend's place in SoHo, which is
much closer to the blast than we are (near Canal Street, below which
Manhattan has been evacuated. We watched the buildings collapse from
the street (Thompson) in front of his house. People were screaming into
cell phones with those New Yawk accents. Also crying, "I can't believe
it, the World Trade Centa is gawn! It's gawn!" It was so bizarre,
because the WTC so dominated the skyline -- it's what everyone looks at
when they want to know which way is south.
Then there was a gas leak scare at 6th Ave, and people were running down
the street (South!) towards the devastation. The Goodmans were
especially freaked out because they had 3 kids in a Jewish school
uptown. The husband finally found a cab and got them and the neighbor
kids (whose mother, an architect who explained that the WTC bldgs were
designed to implode the way they did) is a believer in tough love and
was going to leave them there until 3.
Everyone finally agreed to stock up on a bunch of food -- I wanted to
the minute I heard nothing was coming into Manh. -- and we went back
home to olde Channel 2. I went out to get a sandwich and a lot of
places were closed; I got the last 2 sandwiches at a place across
Hudson, which was out of ice and bread. For some reason the Magnolia
Bakery was open. When the roommate came back from giving clothes, he
said there were tons of hip West Village people there, standing calmly
in line, waiting to give blood with the same cool demeanor they have
while shopping. Indeed, everyone is vey calm and helpful. They even
give way on the sidewalk!
At night we tried to go back to Goodman's but there was a checkpoint at
Houston (The "Ho" in SoHo). After being foiled by one officer we took a
different route. Michael lied (everyone loves M.) and said we were
staying there, gave the address. They let us through saying, "As long
as you're not tourists going down to take pictures." Where the West
Village was full of people with dogs/cellphones/cigarettes/hip outfits
eating at the few restaurants that were open and cramming the bars that
had cable, SoHo was a near-dead zone. We saw people camped out on the
sidewalk on lawn chairs, listening to portable radios and talking
quietly. Every once in a while you'd see exhausted people with
stethoscopes, face masks and scrubs walking home, dazed. After seeing
the Goodmans, who were all finishing up dinner, and watching some of
their cable, we went back north to our place. On the way, a civilian
(this is how people are divided now, into categories) told us that we
wouldn't be able to get back in, and I doubt we'll get a chance to see
the Goodmans today. There's no yoga and everything is closed. We'll
visit Michael's friend down the street, who has a dog and cable, and
I'll try to give blood. It's all very strange. I'm supposed to fly
back Saturday night on American but who knows. At least they're finally
letting people out of Manhattan.
Cara |
