In some ways, it was like any other late summer morning, only more brilliant than usual. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that seemed even bluer than blue. The air had the first crisp edge of the year, still pleasant in the low seventies, yet dry and somewhat cool. After weeks of hot humidity and soot-filled air, the city seemed cleaner and almost radiant on this morning as Jack headed downtown.
He took his usual route to the subway station at 72nd Street. Jack, a creature of habit, had a usual morning routine. Grab a NY Post at Gus’ newsstand, catch the local C train at 7 AM, change to the A train express at 59th St., and then six stops to Chambers Street. Once there, he’d get a Mocha Latte Grande at Starbucks, and a salt bagel with a slice of tomato and a light schmear at Freidman’s deli cart before hitting the elevator that would take him up to work.
Jack arrived on the 59th street subway platform just as the A express train began to pull out of the station. The trains on the A, C, E lines had been running off schedule all week, and by missing the express, Jack would have to take the slower C train, adding several extra stops to his trip. As the station began to fill up again for the next train, he noticed that he was standing right next to a transit cop leaning up against one of the platform posts. The cop looked like he was taking his break.
“How’s it going?” Jack asked him, but the cop just nodded his head slightly in Jack’s direction without changing his bored expression.
“You pretty much work the A,C,E?” Jack tried again.
“Whasit to ya?” the cop responded.
“Nothing, nothing” and there was a long pause as the two men stood side by side, glancing around the platform, but not at each other. As if trying to get the cop to help him paint an
imaginary fence, Jack continued, “You’re not MTA, but I was just thinking you might know why the trains are all messed up is all.”
“Oh that, its nuthin too big, uh, last night the B caught fire at 125th and everythin stopped for a few hours. Aroun the same time, there was a mess on the E at Queens Plaza – some homeys capped a prenant lady and threw her on the tracks. She was sumthin though; they say she pulled herself back t the platform before the next train came. You don see that every day. No ya don. The MTA is still catchin up is all; by this afternoon they’ll be O.K.”
Just as he finished a late middle-aged couple stopped to interrupt. They looked perplexed.
“Sir, you’re a policeman, aren’t you? George my husband thought we shouldn’t bother you, but we’re from Ohio and we don’t have a subway. Can you help us?”
George looked like he wished he were back in Ohio. He had the basic Lonely Planet attire, a baseball cap with New York City printed on the front, a collared shirt with Canton Auto Body on the breast pocket, shorts that were too short, knee-length white tube socks covered with tennis shoes, and a camera slung over his shoulder. His wife looked like she shopped at the same store, and also sported the ubiquitous fanny pack. They did have a subway map but were having trouble making any sense of it.
“We want to go to the Guggenheim Museum, there is a Picasso exhibit that my pottery teacher told me about. We started out at the Marriott Hotel in Times Square, and George thought we should walk, but I wanted to have a real New York City experience so I dragged him into the subway, but my George doesn’t have the best sense of direction and before we knew it we ended up here. Are we close to the Guggenheim? As I said we don’t have subways in Ohio, or at least not in Canton, I think there’s a small one in Cleveland, but -.” George reached up and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, gave her a slight squeeze and she finally stopped talking. He smiled wanly in the cop’s direction.
“The Guggenhein is on the uppa east side, you’re on the uppa west,” the transit cop said indifferently. “You’ll havta get on a train goin uptown on the otha side,” he added pointing to the platform across the tracks, as he gazed away from the couple who he was clearly not interested in having any further dealings with.
A slightly built man with thick black-rimmed glasses poked his head in front of several people, and in a whiney, nasal-sounding voice called out to them, “the best way to the Guggenheim is to walk over to Lex and take the IRT.”
“IRT,” yelled a small bearded man with a yarmulke, “no that’s not it!”
He turned to the couple that looked more confused than before and spoke very quickly. “You follow that advice, you leave the subway, you pay another fare – no, no, you go over to the downtown A train – its an express, it takes you directly to 42nd Street, you get off there and find the 7 train and take it over to Grand Central and change to the – ”
“The 7? What irya tryin to do, send em to a Mets game or somethin,” chimed in a third, “I was born on the subway, its simple…”
The C train charged into the station drowning out the third man’s directions, all Jack heard as he got aboard was the same guy calling out to the couple left alone on the platform,
“You’ll be fine, be there in half an howa max.”
As the train pulled away Jack chuckled to himself thinking how the world usually viewed New York City as an unfriendly place. As the train rocked downtown, he thought about the tourists. They should have walked to the Guggenheim on a day like today. Central Park would have been glorious. He was thinking this just as the train pulled into the 14th Street station.
Maybe it was the thought of those tourists walking through the lush green of the park or the picture-perfect day outside, or maybe it was the rut he was complaining about to his admin the day before, but Jack out of the blue decided to get out at 14th and walk.
Hardly ever this impulsive, it was even more unusual since Jack rarely walked anywhere that he couldn’t take a bus, taxi or subway. Like most New Yorkers, he felt it a sin to waste any time – getting somewhere or otherwise. As he walked up the subway steps, Jack thought about how there really wasn’t anything all that pressing at work. His boss would already be at the tech conference that started at 7 AM, and she had told him to skip it this year. He wouldn’t see her until at least nine, and he could easily walk downtown in less than 20 minutes, so for once, time wasn’t his enemy. He smiled as he reached the top of the steps and sauntered out into the sunshine.
Jack had never before walked through this neighborhood on a weekday morning. It was a part of the city with dozens of small businesses and quaint shops. He walked along as the shop owners swept and hosed down the sidewalk, or chatted with one another about the beautiful day.
He slowed to watch a flower shop fill a huge display of different plants and flowers. Tulips, daisies, wheatgrass, roses, daffodils, and azaleas – the view was an orgy of color that would
have made any artist excited. As the shop owner sprayed water on the plants, the mist beautifully reflected the long morning rays of the sun. To Jack, it was like a scene out of a movie, and for a fleeting moment, he had a feeling of what he was missing in his busy urban life – what was passing him by. Without any idea or plan, Jack approached the shop. He picked out a single gorgeous daffodil with the water dripping off it like dew. Jack’s insouciance must have been contagious as the elderly shop owner gave it to him for free.
As he turned to leave the front of the store, he noticed an older woman down the sidewalk coming his way. She had a kerchief wrapped around her head and a light gray shawl pulled over her shoulders. She walked with a certain purpose, yet stooped as she pulled along a two-wheel cart, with a worn expression on her face. She could have fit in just as easily in Kyiv or Gdansk as in lower Manhattan. Maybe he wanted to share his newfound awakening, or at least his lighthearted mood, because as the woman approached he stopped and gave the flower to her. After catching her eye, he flashed a smile and kept on walking. She straightened up and turned to watch him go by. A small smile came across her face as she sniffed the flower. She glanced over at the shop owner who laughed and jeered at her. She chuckled to herself, shook her head, and continued on her way still sniffing the flower.
Jack continued walking downtown passing many more shops. As he approached one not yet visible around the next corner, his gait slowed to a crawl as he sniffed the air. The wonderful smell that suddenly hit him, getting stronger with every step he took – was heavenly. It was a fresh yeasty dough kind of smell and it made Jack’s mouth water. As he turned the corner he saw that the name of the shop was Annie’s Bakery.
Not only did the place smell great, but it also had a Parisian café feel to it. Several small tables were surrounding the shop on the sidewalk – most were showered with sunshine. Jack took in the picture and thought what a perfect beginning to a perfect morning – and why not stop, he had already broken every other morning ritual. Today, there would be no fast food coffee and a bagel from the roach coach; he was going to live a little.
He entered the bakery and they seemed to make everything. Everywhere he looked there were baskets and displays of baked goods – fresh rolls, all types of bread, scones, bagels, cakes, cookies, and Jack’s favorite, croissants. In addition, they had all types of gourmet teas and coffees and a special chocolate drink they made from a secret recipe called Annie’s Chocolate Delight. Jack found a woman behind the counter of the shop.
“Would you be Annie,” Jack asked the woman behind the counter? She was petite, wearing a white chef’s coat, and with her bobbed blonde hair was exceptionally, well…cute.
“I am. We only opened a few days ago, so please excuse the lack of selection.” They both swept the crammed shelves and bins chock full of all sorts of delightful baked goods, looked at each other, and both laughed out loud, “well, maybe I’ve been a little obsessive.” It was a fun moment that when the laughter subsided, there was a pregnant pause that caused an almost embarrassing moment as each took an extra look at one another beyond the customer-clerk engagement.
A bit unnerved Jack blurted out, “ I think you’re going to be a big hit. You look great – I mean, um, your place looks great. Another pause settled between them as they looked into each other’s eyes. “All you have to do is bottle that great smell of yours and spread it around the neighborhood a little.” He paused as she began looking at him with a questioning look, “No, um, no…I mean the bakery, the fresh dough…not you…not your smell, you smell great too, but I meant the bakery.”
After a few more seconds of looking into each other’s eyes, Jack’s face began turning a bright shade of pink. He tried to change the subject and asked, “How about a few of those croissants, can you make one chocolate?”
Annie smiled and chuckled to herself as she went to retrieve the croissants. She noticed how tall and handsome he looked, dressed in a beautifully fitted dark blue suit. A lot of customers flirted with her, but she got a different vibe from this one. There was something genuine about him. She could also sense that he was a good guy, and he had a great smile. Over her shoulder, she asked, “You seem to like chocolate how about a glass of Chocolate Delight?”
“I’m not so sure, just the sound of it has my arteries clogging up. What’s the big secret anyway?
“You’ll love it and it’s not too fattening or too sweet. It’s made from special Venezuelan chocolate, with a little fresh vanilla bean, powdered pralines, and the freshest milk I can buy. It’s really good – live a little.”
Jack headed outside with his two croissants and a tall glass of something he was sure wasn’t on his personal trainer’s top ten list. Not that the croissants were either. He stationed himself at a table so he could look down West Broadway toward the downtown skyline. He loved the view of all the tall buildings as the old skyscrapers blended in with the new. He liked the fact that his was the tallest. He also made sure that the sunshine flooded his table and that he had a good view of the people as they strolled by. Being in the city for the past eight years, he never got tired of people watching.
His mind wandered back to Annie, he wished he had asked for her phone number. She seemed different somehow. He also noticed she didn’t have a ring on her finger. But he frequently said this to himself since he rarely ever asked a woman for her phone number. He was really shy when it came to that sort of thing – but as he tried her chocolate drink he had to smile – she was right, it was awesome. He was thinking that all she could do was say no. It wouldn’t be that humiliating.
Jack stood up to go back inside. He glanced at his watch to check the time and was saved by the bell once again. It was almost ten of nine. He would have to hurry down West Broadway if he was going to make it before his boss came down from the conference. He sighed and thought to himself that there would be other Annie’s.
As he was thinking this, he heard a loud roar and looked all around wondering what it was. He looked up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an amazing site – an extremely low flying passenger jet. He could almost see the faces of the people in the window. Before he had a chance to collect his thoughts, the plane roared right over him, seemingly speeding up as it flew by overhead. A few seconds later it disappeared crashing into what looked like his building about two-thirds of the way up the tower. He blinked several times not registering what he had just seen. It seemed so surreal. He couldn’t fathom what his eyes had just witnessed, but in just a few moments he quickly came out of his stupor. Several women came screaming out into the street. People began pouring out of their stores and shops, all staring up at the Trade Towers that now seemed much closer than their 9-10 block distance. A few seconds later everyone scattered for the sidewalk as if out of nowhere a fire truck came screaming around the corner with its siren blaring and barreled past them down the street.
Annie came up to Jack and asked, “What happened?”
Without averting his eyes from the Tower, Jack answered, “I’m not sure, but I think a jetliner crashed into one of the Trade Towers. It just disintegrated into the building.”
Jack in shock, unemotionally droned on, “ I saw the whole thing, and I’m pretty sure that it was my building – and it looked like it crashed into the area where my office is.” He looked down at Annie as if he had known her forever and for the first time realized that he had to do something.
“I have to get down to work.” He started to leave when Annie grabbed his arm and said, “You can’t go down there, they’ll have police and rescue people everywhere. Don’t you remember what happened in ’93?”
“I know, but I have to do something.”
“The only help you can give is to stay away and let the cops and fireman handle it. My God, I wonder how many people were on the plane. Are you sure that the tower the plane crashed into was your building?”
“Positive. It’s definitely the North Tower that’s full of smoke.” For the next five minutes or so they both silently stared at the tower as it billowed black smoke and the fire raged. They could hear siren after siren blowing by on their street and the streets surrounding the neighborhood as rescue workers streamed to the site of the crash. A dozen thoughts were running through Jack’s head. Did the plane crash into his floor? Did it crash above or below? How was his boss? His admin? He knew tons of people in the building. Were they O.K.? He suddenly felt guilty for not being there. He knew Annie was right, but he felt as if he must do something – but what?
“Do you realize Annie that I should be in that building right now? Normally, I’m at work by 7:30. It’s now after nine and this is the first time that I have ever gone in late. Instead of being here with you, I would be at my desk and…” Jack stopped talking. There was nothing at that moment left to say.
Jack slowly looked back up and concentrated his attention on the North Tower as the realization swept over him. He had a very solemn look as a small tear trickled down his cheek.
They stood side by side, looking straight ahead as she slipped her hand into his and gave a gentle squeeze, not realizing that their day was only just beginning.
