Bright Lights


A romantic view of the WTC, from 1999


30-31 March 1999: Bright Lights

Every few months my company has a conference/exhibition and I usually go. I spent the better part of these two days down at the show, which was held at the hotel that's at the World Trade Center. In fact, it was the one that suffered damage during the bombing in the early 1990s.

I found out while in the office that I could spend the night down in the hotel, which is convenient, since I am not a good morning person, and waking up where I had to be is a major benefit.

Six of us went up to Windows on the World. It was the first time I had ever been there. Seeing New York at night is far superior to seeing it in the daytime, especially when you are that far up. It's always wonderful, seeing New York lit up like a living map. Seeing the bridges and Brooklyn beyond, at night, is spectacular. It's hard to imagine the human effort that goes into building such tall buildings. It's hard to believe people can build such large and wonderful things, but cannot manage to get along.

So after a very good dinner, I took the subway home and got a change of clothes. I really didn't feel like taking the subway back, so I took a cab. It was 1 a.m.

The cab went down the FDR Drive. We went under the Queensboro Bridge. We passed the United Nations. We passed the Chrysler Building and the dimmed Empire State Building. We followed the road as it hugged the coast of Manhattan, which gets wider at 14th Street and passes Alphabet City. We went under the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges. I think about how some of these high rise project we pass on the right stand where my grandfather's first home in the US stood. Even the street he was on is gone, gobbled up in urban renewal. We passed all of downtown and the Brooklyn Bridge and we went into a tunnel around the Battery. We emerged from the tunnel right near the hotel.

It might seem silly, but I almost think that cab ride was the most glamourous moment of my life. It's hard to explain it. It was late, so there was no traffic. We took the FDR, so there were no stop lights. I almost felt like I was floating downtown. It was so effortless. I just stepped out of my house and hailed a cab and I was suddenly floating downtown. Just floating by all those landmarks, and all those lights. Just like that. From my messy apartment to a spotless (but sterile) hotel. And soon after getting to the hotel, I lay asleep in that hotel under those two silent towers. I just drifted off to sleep with absolutely no effort.

The next day, I got up early. I managed to shower before the water main break deprive many others of their ablutions. I watched the news. The crisis in Kosovo continued. Here at home, the police had a demonstration of their own, declaring the Diallo shooting was "A tragedy, not a crime." I won't even start here about how nonsensical the fraternal fidelity of the boys in blue is. Let's just say that the cops have a real knee-jerk reaction when it comes to their own. One idiot cop even said, "Those guys are heroes!" Apparently, just being a cop makes you a hero. The very risk of the job makes you a hero? Shooting someone 19 times is heroic?

Heroism usually involves doing something daring with no regard for your safety, or getting paid for it. Diallo's wallet was found on the ground near his dead body. He thought he was being mugged by these four cops, who were not in uniform.

By all means, let's call them heroes.

It's a shame, sometimes, that morning comes and the magic of the night has to disappear. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs. I sometimes think being a nocturne is the best vice of all.

Posted: Fri - October 28, 2005 at 02:19 AM        

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