Fred asked how I was going to get home. I had no idea. There aren’t many options. Certainly someone was deliberately attacking New York. Were there more attack planes on their way? Were there bombs at Grand Central? If I headed north along the Hudson I’d have to pass the World Financial Center buildings and they could be next. Walking east towards the East River would put me in the middle of the Financial District with more tall buildings, and more plane attacks? The only place without buildings nearby was Battery Park. Besides, possibly I could catch the subway from Battery Park to Grand Central. Or maybe I could wait out whatever it was that was happening and then make my way east to the East River and then north from there.
Fred started to go north to the ferry to New Jersey. Should I go with him? How would I get home from New Jersey? Wasn’t it better just to hang around Battery Park until whatever was happening stopped? Plus I didn’t want to go anywhere close to tall buildings, so I headed south towards Battery Park.
Kathy and other Tucker employees were milling near the end of Albany and the Hudson. Walked south along the Hudson. Saw a man walking north with an EMT. The man’s face was horribly burned.
Turned east at the Jewish Holocaust museum and sat down at a bench looking north. I had a perfect view of the towers. Both were still on fire, with smoke billowing out and confetti falling. I was worried there would be more attacks. Trying to guess if they would hit other buildings in lower Manhattan, or Grand Central, or the UN, or the Statue of Liberty. Lots of people were heading south towards me. One man yells to his colleagues (friends? Relatives?) “it is safe to go back” and gestures for them to follow. I can’t imagine where he thinks it is safe. Some people start to follow him.
A woman walks by in her bathrobe. A couple walk by with their stroller and child inside. A few tourist type people walk by. But most of the people look like office workers.
Two women sat down behind me and were talking, but I didn’t listen. A truck backing into the construction area of the Ritz Carlton hits a steel structure. Big bang. Screams. One of the women behind me says, “You have two very nervous women sitting with you.” I said, “I’m nervous too.” But I didn’t want to be with them. Kept walking south, now on Battery Place, where it turns east, as the northern border of Battery Park. Saw a New York on Your Side, (or some other inane slogan) on the side of a news truck. But best view in town as you look at an unobstructed view up West Street to the Trade Center. They are on fire. A big crowd is forming. I am unable to get a circuit on my cell phone.
Sending out Flyers
Near the middle of October I went to my severance meeting. I was scheduled to meet Shelly and Rick at a suite in the Grand Hyatt near Grand Central. When I walk into Grand Central everything is normal, until I near the exit. There is a 10-foot folding structure that is covered with missing person flyers. All of them have a picture of the missing. One woman is hugging her dog, another is hugging his wife, another is carrying his son, another is carving a turkey. Flowers are on the floor, as are burning candles. Handwritten messages are on some of the flyers, “We love you.” A lot of people stop and look. Some cry, others hold back tears, the rest are silent. Those that don’t stop either pause, or glance at the memorial, but everyone slows down.
All around Grand Central there are flyers. On a Verizon pay phone booth on 42nd Street. Flyers for Joe Riverso, Jonathan Briley, Samantha Egan, Amy O’Doherty, Lillian Frederick pictured in her wedding gown. Six to ten others. To the east, still on 42nd Street, attached to the exterior is a permanent board in the past used for announcements of events at Grand Central. Now it is covered with 25 flyers of the missing. On either side are a dozen more flyers. Flowers, candles, a Bible. Lynne Morris, David Wiswall, Anthony Luparello, Manuel Lopez, Michelle Bratton. On the street pole 10 more flyers. Casey Cho, Christopher Clarke, Victoria Brito. On the newpaper box fifteen more. Sean McNulty, Shekar Kumar, Mike Zinzi.
Vanderbilt Ave., between 42nd and 44th is closed to traffic. The taxi stand that was under Grand Central on Vanderbilt is closed until further notice. Vanderbilt is now a parking lot for three-dozen police cars. The police are everywhere: in Grand Central, outside of Grand Central, at the intersections. More sirens than I have ever heard, all day long, up and down 42nd St.
The severance package includes six months at an outplacement center in the MetLife building above Grand Central. I have use of a phone, fax machine, the Internet and a reference library. The center also has support staff and countless seminars on finding a job. Not a bad deal.
A better deal is Jonathan Goldsmith’s.