I lived in the East Village on 9/11. I was headed to Brooklyn that morning to look at apartments in Greenpoint. The store and apartment rents were going through the roof in Manhattan and I needed to start fresh in a new borough.
I already had dealings in Greenpoint and found that a lot of the artists, musicians, and writers had already moved from the Lower East Side to Brooklyn. I knew that I would be able to start a business in the Borough that I was born in.
The planes hit The Towers that morning and I watched the buildings go down from my roof on Seventh street and First Avenue. I knew the country was at war. I told my girlfriend at the time, Dawn that we should go to the hospital and see if they needed blood.
The line was around the Avenue to give blood, and there were no ambulances coming to the hospital.
I said,”We are walking to Brooklyn.”
“It will be safer at my warehouse. We don’t know what else is going to happen today. We could be in the middle of chemical warfare.”
“What about the cats?”
“We can’t take them.”
We walked over the Williamsburg Bridge with people who were covered in the dust. When the buildings collapsed, a grey dust storm was unleashed and covered people who were around the buildings that collapsed.
Once over the Bridge after walking for an hour and a half. With sirens blaring in every direction, I stopped and ate a bagel with cream cheese.
Dawn was angry with me,”Now, you are going to sit and eat a shmear?”
“We are going to have to get used to eating under these new circumstances. Those buildings are not coming back tomorrow, those people who died and are going to die from this attack are not coming back. Nothing is ever going to be the same.”
She did not eat.
Nothing has been the same since 9/11. Later I’ll eat some breakfast and hear sirens in my head.