2001-09-12 - 11:57 a.m.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed yesterday morning. I was late, out of coffee, and I couldn't button my damn pants. So I rushed out, hair wet, and headed for the subway at Sheridan Square. As I approached I noticed that there were people standing on both sides of the street,watching as fire trucks and EMS sped down 7th Avenue. I didn't see anything specific happening, so headed into the subway and to work. When I got to 34th Street, I again made note of the speeding squad cars heading down 7th - hmmm, lots of sirens today, I thought. I stopped at my usual coffee stand, and went into my building, only to have the doorman tell me that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center."C'mon, Manny" I said, getting into the elevator. "I'm serious" he told me, "all the guys are up in your office watching the news." I was horrified, but still unable to grasp it - until I got to the conference room, with the TV turned to CNN.

We stood, 20 of us, all with tears streaming down our faces, and watched the second plane hit. We watched the towers collapse, one at a time. It took hours for the reality of it to hit, if it even has yet. I left my office around noon, feeling like it was 5pm. And walked down 7th Avenue toward home, into a surreal landscape. People crying in the streets, lines of people at the pay phones, and the avenues closed to all but emergency traffic. Penn Station was a mob scene, and I kept going until I hit my neighborhood. The St. Vincent ER is three blocks from my apartment, and I approached the cordoned off area in a daze. The entire front sidewalk of the south side of the hospital looked like, well, a war zone. Filled, overflowing, with gurneys and wheelchairs and office chairs covered with bed sheets. Lines of IVs, and green-smocked doctors and nurses waiting for the ambulances that never came. There was a big hand lettered sign for "Family Information" - the phone lines were strangled, cell signals were out, and there was a long line of people, friends and family of the missing, standing in line with shell-shocked faces, hoping against all odds for news of their loved ones. And even longer was the line for blood donors. I never fail to be amazed at the way the people of this city ban together in the face of tragedy. It's amazing, in a city where people don't even look you in the face, to see everyone coming together. People underestimate and misunderstand New Yorkers - Rudy announced last night that the city has more volunteers than they can use.

My neighborhood looked like a war zone - all the storefronts gated, the streets deserted. Last night, an eerie silence, like I have never ever heard before in the Village. I woke up this morning to absolute silence, and shining sun, and a blissful moment of incomprehension -that precious minute when you first wake up, before conscious thought rushes into your brain and forces you back to the horror.

I walked to Sullivan Street last night, and looked south - there is a clear view to the Twin Towers from there, one we all took for granted. It's still unbelievable to me that they could be gone. Gone from the landscape, taking with them thousands of husbands and wives and sons and daughters and siblings. I can't yet process the loss - and I'm not ready yet to attempt it. The smell of smoke lingers in my neighborhood, yet life goes on. I heard this morning on the news reports of closed businesses, no food in the stores, long lines. But I see my own neighborhood, about thirty blocks north of ground zero, pulling together and going on. Many of the stores are open, there's new stock of everything, and people are going about their lives. Resilient.

And angry.

I think people everywhere are angry - and God help me, but I have to admit it. When I saw that first tower collapse, saw the debris and the smoke coming around the corner like a living entity - my first thought, after shock and sorrow, was that we need to find out who is responsible, and wipe their godd@mn uncivilized country off the map. That anger scares me, it's at odds with my values - but there it is, closer to the surface than I'm comfortable with.

And today. Today all I see is grief. Today is when people will get the news, more people than I can imagine, that someone they know is gone. All I can think of is their families - and it makes me angry.

I know this entry is all over the place, but I can't organize my thoughts. I just need to get it out, from my brain to this page, while it's still fresh.

My thoughts and prayers are with all the victims - both the innocent in the buildings and on those planes, and with the police and firemen, so many of whom lost their lives fighting to save others.

I'm sick. And as I type this, they're playing a blues version of 'America' on the radio, and I'm crying like a baby.

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