Platial | Who and What's Nearby
Platial | Who and What's Nearby
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I got up late. I was unemployed. My roommate came bursting into the apartment, face white as a sheet. They turned her away from the subway, as the first plane had hit. We turned on our crappy TV with no reception (We didn't have cable). The second plane had just hit. Our apartment was on the ground floor but just looking outside, two long streams of smoke could be seen in an otherwise crisp clear blue sky. We engineered an antenna from aluminum foil and huddled around the TV to try and figure out what had happened. The towers fell and it felt like a dream. I was in complete denial. No way. This can't be happening. This is not happening. But yet we looked outside and there were the plumes of smoke in the sky from the burning buildings. I was able somehow to make sure my daughter was ok. She was in the East Village and was with her mother. My roommate located her girlfriend, who came over and we all sat around in bewilderment. Cell phones stopped working and the internet went down. Rumors were flying about subsequent follow up attacks: poisoned water, bombs in the subway, other planes still unaccounted for. My roommate rushed out to buy emergency supplies. She came back with several gallons of water, 12 jars of peanut butter, and 20 cans of tuna. I remember laughing as we unpacked the bags--12 jars of peanut butter! Somehow it seemed so funny, in a very human way, peanut butter is such a comfort food--it seemed surreal. The apocalypse will not be a fine dining experience. But yet my laughter quickly turned to sobering reality--what if the water supply really is poisoned? What if the city shuts down? 4th Avenue is a main thoroughfare connecting to the bridges leading to Manhattan, so during the late morning through the entire day, ghostly groups of dusty figures shambled by on their way home to their neighborhoods in Southern Brooklyn. Everyone was in shock. There were so many rumours about what had happened and who had done it. I felt helpless, numb, and wounded. Vengenance and anger hadn't set in yet. It was just such a total and complete shock. Watching those buildings fall through the blurry snow of a bad tv set, while a few miles away it actually was happening. Nothing made sense anymore. Slowly the impact of what had happened set in. I watched the columns of smoke cross the sky for a long time.
I got up late. I was unemployed. My roommate came bursting into the apartment, face white as a sheet. They turned her away from the subway, as the first plane had hit. We turned on our crappy TV with no reception (We didn't have cable). The second plane had just hit. Our apartment was on the ground floor but just looking outside, two long streams of smoke could be seen in an otherwise crisp clear blue sky. We engineered an antenna from aluminum foil and huddled around the TV to try and figure out what had happened. The towers fell and it felt like a dream. I was in complete denial. No way. This can't be happening. This is not happening. But yet we looked outside and there were the plumes of smoke in the sky from the burning buildings. I was able somehow to make sure my daughter was ok. She was in the East Village and was with her mother. My roommate located her girlfriend, who came over and we all sat around in bewilderment. Cell phones stopped working and the internet went down. Rumors were flying about subsequent follow up attacks: poisoned water, bombs in the subway, other planes still unaccounted for. My roommate rushed out to buy emergency supplies. She came back with several gallons of water, 12 jars of peanut butter, and 20 cans of tuna. I remember laughing as we unpacked the bags--12 jars of peanut butter! Somehow it seemed so funny, in a very human way, peanut butter is such a comfort food--it seemed surreal. The apocalypse will not be a fine dining experience. But yet my laughter quickly turned to sobering reality--what if the water supply really is poisoned? What if the city shuts down? 4th Avenue is a main thoroughfare connecting to the bridges leading to Manhattan, so during the late morning through the entire day, ghostly groups of dusty figures shambled by on their way home to their neighborhoods in Southern Brooklyn. Everyone was in shock. There were so many rumours about what had happened and who had done it. I felt helpless, numb, and wounded. Vengenance and anger hadn't set in yet. It was just such a total and complete shock. Watching those buildings fall through the blurry snow of a bad tv set, while a few miles away it actually was happening. Nothing made sense anymore. Slowly the impact of what had happened set in. I watched the columns of smoke cross the sky for a long time.
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