Story time
As you can tell from the last post that I found a new apartment in the city. It’s surprizingly affordable, and it’s a bit of a miracle and dream.
But as always when trying to obtain miracles and dreams you have to sacrifice something. I pretty much had to sacrifice this weekend by going home and getting paper work done. No real complaints though, I haven’t seen my parents in a while, and it was nice.
So I came back to the city, and I’m thinking that in about a week to two weeks this boro will be my home. But I’m bored and I don’t have my laptop on me, so I figured I would stop in to the ‘net cafe on times square. Here is my story, and I think it’s one of the few stories I shared in a public space about 9-11.
When the towers went down, and the job in tatters I walked through the city a lot. At least in the area’s I was allowed to go. I didn’t know what I was doing, I think I was in shock mostly. I tried to volunteer but all of the positions were filled up. I mostly walked around and just took mental notes.
I some how made it here to the cyber cafe, since I didn’t have TV, radio, or internet, because of the lack of twin towers so I figured I would at least keep in touch, and see what’s going on. So I get here and there was a line, a very very very long line. Longer than any blockbuster movie, game, or concert. People from all over the city, the country and the world were here to tell their loved ones that they were alive and ok.
I think it was one of the most saddest things I seen as a result of 9-11. I could be bias though, besides my father, and my brother no one really called me to see if I was alive. That includes cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.
But that’s one of my 9-11 story. Not sure why I felt like talking about it. But it’s out there.
