Back At Work
September 13, 2001
I'm back at work. It took longer for me to get here to the East Village from the Upper East Side than it did for my co-worker to get to Manhattan from Philadelphia by Amtrak this morning. The smell is still here this far downtown, an acrid odor of burning plastic. I noticed it hanging over the city yesterday as some friends and I went to Central Park to play frisbee...
I caught myself laughing for the first time since the attacks last night. It startled me what a contrast it was, even though it was only some little joke I was laughing at. I am still sick as a dog, coughing and sneezing and the whole bit. But I really, really feel grateful for the chance to whine about having a cold. I look around, and some people on the streets here (and I mean people, there are no cars this far south, it looks like a bad sci-fi movie...) are wearing face masks. A woman here in the office has a bag and is offering them to people. Now, it's been less than a week since the two Michael Jackson concerts here, and I can't help but think that, ordinarily, I'd have a pretty good joke about that.