Yesterday was just one of those days.
When I woke up, it was raining pretty hard, but then it was pouring. Just pouring. So already there were obstacles to just getting through the day. Liz and I waited out the initial downpour, and after 15 minutes, made a break for it. The rain wasn’t too bad on the way to the subway, but because of flooding on the tracks, we wound up sitting in subway traffic for almost an hour and a half. Not fun.
Then, at about 11:10, I get a call on my cell pYesterday was just one of those days.
When I woke up, it was raining pretty hard, but then it was pouring. Just pouring. So already there were obstacles to just getting through the day. Liz and I waited out the initial downpour, and after 15 minutes, made a break for it. The rain wasn’t too bad on the way to the subway, but because of flooding on the tracks, we wound up sitting in subway traffic for almost an hour and a half. Not fun.
Then, at about 11:10, I get a call on my cell phone from a number I don’t recognize. Turns out it was from someone I had an important meeting with–at 11 a.m.–but simply forgot. We had arranged to have a business meeting at 11 am–on Wednesday–but I wrote it down as Thursday. Nice. We rescheduled, but you hate to have someone put time aside, and then blow the meeting.
Later that afternoon, I went to the chiropractor for a much-needed adjustment. And it hurt. A lot. It really beat me up. I’m much better now–it was long overdue–but still, it wasn’t much fun. I then stopped into a nearby diner for a quick dinner, which wound up making me moderately ill.
Liz and I had a 7 pm meeting with a financial advisor in midtown, so I took the uptown F train from the West 4th Street stop, where I was. When I walked out onto the street at Bryant Park, the streets were packed. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then I noticed that all the sidewalks for as far as I could see were filled. The cops were directing traffic. Almost everyone was on their cell phones.
And then I looked up.
There was a massive–I mean massive–cloud of smoke funneling out of the top of a building across from Grand Central Station. The police announced the Grand Central was now closed.
So naturally, we’re all afraid that we’ve been attacked again, and are bracing ourselves for the worst. My cell phone is struggling to connect because everybody is making calls. I finally connect with Liz, who meets me just north of the Met Life Building, on Park Ave., where we’re supposed to meet our advisor. Only he wasn’t there. I figured he bailed because of the madness (turns out he was outside the city and couldn’t get back in).
Police sirens were whirring. Ambulances were right behind.
Liz and I made our way up to 53rd Street, and luckily were able to get a working–and air conditioned–subway home.
Turns out the blast was from a steam pipe on 41st Street, but those first few minutes were insane. The smoke. The police.
It’s always been said that New York’s a tough town. No joke.
