story4783.xml

story4783.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

10/19/2001

Last Sunday, my wife and I decided to take a trip to Ground Zero. It has been a little over a month and something deep down said it was time to go. This has been the longest stretch of time since my last visit to the city. It has nothing to do with being afraid of some new attack or the fact that Tom Brokaw was within arm's length of touching anthrax. I just didn't want to wake up from this nightmare and find out it actually was real. Until now.

Since the Holland Tunnel was still closed, our only routes were the George Washington Bridge or the Lincoln Tunnel. Since we were in no hurry and autumn foliage is in full bloom, I headed toward the Bridge. Then, at the last minute I chickened out, veering onto the Route 46 exit toward the tunnel. I've seen that view down Manhattan from the Bridge countless times on our way to Yankee Stadium. And I always made it a point to check it out, not to take it for granted. The Empire State Building, then the Twin Towers. That's the way it's supposed to be. Just postponing the nightmare, I guess.

Heading out of the tunnel, we first decided on some lunch at one of our favorite Irish haunts, McCormack's. After some grub, a couple of pints and some rugby on TV, we headed downtown.

I decided to park the car in the South Street Seaport area and then hoof it across town toward the Trade Center. On the way down, a golf cart pulled in front of us from a cross road. There are many golf carts moving around the city with sides built up with plywood. These are used to transport supplies and people from one location to another. On the back of this cart were 3 workers holding their hardhats with a blinding stare into space. They must have been up for 24 hours or more. Scenes from CNN crossed my mind. For a moment I thought of taking a picture, but just didn't feel it was right.

Aligning the streets are tables of bottled water, bananas and various food stuffs. Trucks housing electrical equipment used to power large mercury lamps resembling a motion picture scene are dotted along the area. The sight of military personnel in fatigues along Canal Street takes a moment to get used to. While most people may look at 18-25 year olds as adults, i saw our boys faces in theirs. Peg later conveyed to me how she smiled at the one "kid" in uniform who looked horrified - he looked like he needed a motherly hug to make the pain go away. He smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Hug accepted. The presence of New York State Police in Manhattan is another first for me. The closer you work your way downtown, the more it resembles a war zone. This is serious stuff.

After parking the car, I decided our best route would be along Wall St. toward the financial center. As we got closer to Ground Zero, things began to change. On a clear day, the roads were becoming wet from the constant flow of water trucks hosing things down. Packs of people with cameras were more common than usual. Since I know the city like the back of my hand, we quickly avoided the mass and took a roundabout method. We headed north along a road heading into the zone.

At this point, let me say that words cannot describe what we felt standing 2 blocks from Ground Zero. All of the pictures from television, magazines and newspapers don't even come close to expose the enormity of what was around us. Cars frozen in time, papers still spewed on hanging nets on fire escapes, grayish dust that may never go away. And yes, there is an indescribable smell of burning plastic, steel, carpet, fuel and things I would rather not mention. At the barricade were 2 military personnel and 2 of NYC's finest. Anytime there is a group of 100 or so people together in the city, you can usually expect an enormous amount of chatter. Not at this moment. Silence. People just staring down the block. The occasional sound of "No pictures please". I walked to the other side of the road and noticed my wife standing there with her hand over her mouth just shaking her head. This is serious stuff. Everything has changed. There has to be a chemical change within the body that occurs at that moment. For all 100 or so of us.

The sight of that cathedral-like facade that is still standing just blows your mind of the energy that was created and destroyed on that day.

Along this road, tractor trailer flat beds were making their way out of the city. Along the 2 blocks, firemen were lined up on both sides of the street with hoses watering down the truck and its scrap. Each truck was carrying one gigantic, twisted I-beam. The damn thing was still smoldering as it passed us by.

For the rest of the afternoon, we wandered around the area heading north, moving into every crossroad to catch a different view of where the Towers used to be. Hundred-year-old churches are now converted into areas where firemen, policemen, ironworkers, etc can grab a wink or a coffee.

Flags, banners, pictures of the missing are everywhere. And of course the scumbags selling pictures of the Towers, fake NYFD caps and the like around every corner. Hey, it's still New York, what can I say. Heading back home that late afternoon, I realized just how much I've taken that city and its people for granted. I don't know how many times I've said I'll never go there again. But, today I realized that New York City is the greatest city on the planet. That's why those towers were there. That's why those people were there. That's why I'm going back there.

I know the media has purposely kept the scenes of those planes hitting the towers off of the television. But, I think all Americans need to see them once a week as a reminder, as justification of what we're doing now and in the future to put these bastards down. We will win, there is no doubt in my mind.


Dave "Boggs" Schwartz