and I'm dancing as fast as I can
Sep. 14th, 2001 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabI tried to get home today, back to Brooklyn. I took the train in with my sister, we got in to 125th st. in Harlem, got off the train there because we wanted to avoid Grand Central. got a cab. took to to Lizzie's friend Nora's, 97th and West End. it's about 10:30 pm. let Lizzie out.
I said, "take me to Columbus Circle" which is 72nd and Broadway. I figured I'd catch teh train downtown. we went to Columbus circle. the subway was closed to downtown.
there was a sign taped up, a printout: "You are not alone. -- fellow New Yorkers." and that was when i started crying the first time.
I got another cab. I said "take me as close to 14th and 1st as you can get." I figured I'd catch the L under the river. He said, "it just came through on the radio, everything's closed south of 34th street."
we drove over. We kept the radio on. it was about 11:00. The radio said everything's closed south of 42nd street now. some rumors of a bomb threat in Grand Central station.
I said, "can we go across the 59th street bridge?"
but the radio said the 59th street bridge was closed too.
I said, "take me back to 97th and West End." I went to find Lizzie. I rang the doorbell, I called, she wasn't there. I panicked, unduly but I panicked, I don't like this, the streets were empty, I walked over to Broadway, my cell phone was dying, I called my parents. I said, "get in before they close the Henry Hudson bridge." they said, "Dad's on his way."
I went to a bar on 96th and Amsterdam, full of people stranded on the upper west side. the bartender said, after I knocked back a shot of bourbon, "yeah, I'm filling in tonight because the girl who's supposed to be here lives in Brooklyn and she can't get out."
my phone was dead. I tried to find my sister. a lawyer named David lent me his cell phone. He'd had friends in the trade towers -- they got out okay, he said. I called Jesse and told him to feed my cat. I told him if he could get out of brooklyn to come uptown, I'd find him, to come up to westchester, to get out of the city.
my dad showed up, picked me up, we raced out of the city. It's 12:30. thunder and lightning and it's starting to rain, and I said, "this isn't a good time for loud booms and flashing lights in the sky, in New York city." he said, "i'm not scared at all." I told him he was brave and he didn't know what I meant.
I came home. I called Lizzie's friend's parents, woke them up. they said Lizzie and Nora were fine, they'd gone out. thank god.
and here I am again. four hours of my life, spent trapped, running around, my world getting smaller and smaller as they closed off streets, and threats all around.
they're encouraging people to go to church tomorrow at lunch. I was thinking I'd go to synagogue, though I'm not a good jew and I'm not sure about god at all. But I thought, there will be other people there, and they're also scared, and that's what I need right now.
I just -- I really don't like this. and anyone who's scared and wants to get out of town, who can get out of town on trains or bridges that aren't closed yet, let me know, you can come stay here, we need to take care of each other. we are not alone, fellow new yorkers and that guy at the bar who said, "they think we're mean, but we're not. Look at us."
I still wish I weren't in NY, but I am, and i'm desperately proud of this city and the way we're holding up. "go us," I said to the guy in the bar.
Bush is in town tomorrow, and I don't want him here. but if it makes him feel something, anything, I suppose that's a step, something towards humanizing this. Because if the powers that be aren't as scared as I am...I don't know.
anyway, I'm home, and all my family is safe, yet again. It's Thursday night, friday morning, 1:13 am.
I said, "take me to Columbus Circle" which is 72nd and Broadway. I figured I'd catch teh train downtown. we went to Columbus circle. the subway was closed to downtown.
there was a sign taped up, a printout: "You are not alone. -- fellow New Yorkers." and that was when i started crying the first time.
I got another cab. I said "take me as close to 14th and 1st as you can get." I figured I'd catch the L under the river. He said, "it just came through on the radio, everything's closed south of 34th street."
we drove over. We kept the radio on. it was about 11:00. The radio said everything's closed south of 42nd street now. some rumors of a bomb threat in Grand Central station.
I said, "can we go across the 59th street bridge?"
but the radio said the 59th street bridge was closed too.
I said, "take me back to 97th and West End." I went to find Lizzie. I rang the doorbell, I called, she wasn't there. I panicked, unduly but I panicked, I don't like this, the streets were empty, I walked over to Broadway, my cell phone was dying, I called my parents. I said, "get in before they close the Henry Hudson bridge." they said, "Dad's on his way."
I went to a bar on 96th and Amsterdam, full of people stranded on the upper west side. the bartender said, after I knocked back a shot of bourbon, "yeah, I'm filling in tonight because the girl who's supposed to be here lives in Brooklyn and she can't get out."
my phone was dead. I tried to find my sister. a lawyer named David lent me his cell phone. He'd had friends in the trade towers -- they got out okay, he said. I called Jesse and told him to feed my cat. I told him if he could get out of brooklyn to come uptown, I'd find him, to come up to westchester, to get out of the city.
my dad showed up, picked me up, we raced out of the city. It's 12:30. thunder and lightning and it's starting to rain, and I said, "this isn't a good time for loud booms and flashing lights in the sky, in New York city." he said, "i'm not scared at all." I told him he was brave and he didn't know what I meant.
I came home. I called Lizzie's friend's parents, woke them up. they said Lizzie and Nora were fine, they'd gone out. thank god.
and here I am again. four hours of my life, spent trapped, running around, my world getting smaller and smaller as they closed off streets, and threats all around.
they're encouraging people to go to church tomorrow at lunch. I was thinking I'd go to synagogue, though I'm not a good jew and I'm not sure about god at all. But I thought, there will be other people there, and they're also scared, and that's what I need right now.
I just -- I really don't like this. and anyone who's scared and wants to get out of town, who can get out of town on trains or bridges that aren't closed yet, let me know, you can come stay here, we need to take care of each other. we are not alone, fellow new yorkers and that guy at the bar who said, "they think we're mean, but we're not. Look at us."
I still wish I weren't in NY, but I am, and i'm desperately proud of this city and the way we're holding up. "go us," I said to the guy in the bar.
Bush is in town tomorrow, and I don't want him here. but if it makes him feel something, anything, I suppose that's a step, something towards humanizing this. Because if the powers that be aren't as scared as I am...I don't know.
anyway, I'm home, and all my family is safe, yet again. It's Thursday night, friday morning, 1:13 am.
