Terror in Times Square

One of the most defining moments of my generation is undoubtedly the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. In the same way that my parent's generation will never forget where they were when JFK was shot, or my grandparent's generation will never forget how they found of about the attack on Pearl Harbor, Generation Y (is that what they're calling us these days?) will never forget the images seared in our minds of the planes flying into the World Trade Center, how we felt when we saw the buildings collapse, and where we were when our entire world-view was changed by the events of that day. As a freshmen in high school in a small town in Connecticut over 2 hours away from New York City, I remember feeling shocked and sad and scared by the attacks. I remember my joy when sports practice was cancelled that day, and I remember my fear of the retaliation and threat of war that loomed in the days that followed. But never at any point did I feel personally in danger as a result of the terrorists. I wasn't in NYC that day, I didn't know anyone who lived in NYC at the time, and I sure didn't know the extent of the chaos and fear that gripped the city on that day and has continued in the years that have followed. I got a tiny taste of this reality, of that terror, last week.

After a long day of work at TRUCE last Wednesday, I took the 1-2-3 subway downtown to meet a friend from Cornell for dinner in Times Square. We were scheduled to meet at 7:30, and since it was only about 6:30 when I got down there, I decided to find a coffee shop, grab a small cup, and relax and read my book (Breakfast at Tiffany's, a Truman Capote/NY classic) until it was time to meet her. After settling down with my coffee and opening my book, my phone rang and I saw it was my mother calling me. I was surprised to see her name appear on my phone, as I had just had an extensive conversation with her the night before, but I quickly picked up the phone with a cheery, "Hi, Mom! What's up?" Her quick response and worried tone immediately signaled to me that something was indeed up. "Where are you right now?" she inquired. I informed her cheerily that, "I'm just sitting in a coffee shop in Times Square, just people-watching and reading a little bit...why?" My mother then informed me that she wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew that a building on 41st street has exploded and there was smoke spewing out of it. I looked outside my large window onto the crossroads of NYC, the most vibrant, busy part of the most vibrant, busy city in the country, and saw nothing unusual. Tourists walked with shopping bags, looking around confused. Businessmen strolled by briskly, talking on their cellphones and puffing on their post-work cigarettes. But despite these signs of normalcy and their indication that there was no reason to be alarmed, I heeded my mother's advice to get out of Times Square. I packed up my belongings and exited the coffee shop, and immediately upon exiting onto 41st street and looking east towards Grand Central, I saw a cloud of smoke emerging from the ground as a helicopter circled the the building. Images from September 11 flashed through my mind of the clouds of smoke that poured out of the World Trade Center, the people running down the street in fear, the loud noise of sirens that a disaster of this magnitude warranted. I quickly realized that if this was indeed a terrorist attack, Times Square was not the place I wanted to be when things got worse. I hung up the phone with my mom to call my friend who I was meeting to try to change the location of our meeting, but suddenly my calls would not go through. I tried calling twice, the calls failed. I tried text-messaging, the messages wouldn't send. Suddenly, I realized I was helpless. If something were to happen at that moment, I would've had no way of leaving that extremely busy area, I woul've had no way to get in touch with anyone I know or to find a safe place of refuge. Suddenly I realized that I was completely alone amidst hundreds of thousands of people. These feelings of loneliness and helplessness that struck me while I was surrounded by so many people showed me the strange irony of being in a large group of people when disaster strikes. Clearly, this was not a terrorist attack. I walked out of Times Square and quickly found a policeman who explained the situation to me, calming my nerves and ending my short-lived panic. However, the feeling of being so completely and utterly helpless while alone in a large crowd during a moment of supposed disaster is an experience I will never forget. Despite the advances in technology and the lack of want we have in our country, I realized that we are still extremely vulnerable to tragedy and to the panicked emotions that stem from such events.