On September 11th, 2001, this country was the victim of an unprovoked attack perpetrated by murderous thugs from another country. Almost 3,000 people died. Some were Christian, some were Jewish, some were Muslim. Some were men, some were women. Some were old, and some were so god damned young. Some of the dead were Mets fans, some were Red Sox fans, some were Yankee fans. Some of them were married, and some of them never got the chance. Some of them had kids. Their families and friends grieved their loss. And New York began, slowly, to rebuild and to heal.
Countless songs, essays, and stories were written about that beautiful fall morning (some of which were downright poetic), and no one who lived through the experience - whether here in New York or watching from afar - could ever forget even one small detail of the events. Now, almost a decade removed from that terrifying day, as we still struggle to find the balance between moving forward and never forgetting, some people think it is acceptable to betray the hallowed ground of the World Trade Center. People who just don’t get it, people who would ask the families of the victims to look the other way, and pretend it didn't happen.
People who would openly and without apology operate a bar just two blocks from where the Twin Towers once stood that serves as an affront to the memory of so many people who died that day.
The Ground Zero Yankee bar.
The Dakota Roadhouse, located at 43 Park Place is just a stone's throw away from the site of the World Trade Center. And despite the Red Sox and Mets fans who died on that day, the Roadhouse is undoubtedly and unapologetically a Yankees bar. Even their website brazenly advertises a "FREE COORS LIGHT FOR EVERY YANKEE HOME RUN."
I caught up with the owner of this establishment by phone earlier this week and asked him how he could be so insensitive to the memory of the victims of 9/11, and wanted to know whether he would refudiate his business.
Me: Is it true that you operate a Yankee bar?
Douchebag Yankee Bar Operator: Not really. I am a Yankee fan, and we get mostly Yankee fans in here, but we usually show the Mets game and a few other games in here, too. Pretty much anyone who is a baseball fan and wants to have a good time after work is welcome as long as they keep it under control.
Me: But what about all the people who died on 9/11? How can you operate a Yankee bar on such hallowed ground?
DYBO: What? What the hell are you talking about? Who is this? The bar is two blocks away - it is like a five-minute walk from Ground Zero. Is this a fucking joke?
Me: No, it is not a joke. I just want to know why you can't operate your Yankee bar somewhere else. Why does it have to be so close to Ground Zero? Isn't it just a little insensitive to the families of the victims who were Mets fans and Red Sox fans?
DYBO: Dude, lots of Yankee fans were killed on 9/11. And the people who killed them were murderous thugs from Al-Qaeda, not Yankee fans. Are you dense?
Me: No, but I am a Mets fan.
DYBO: Same thing.
Me: See! See! You are a Yankeeist. A radical perpetrator of supporting the Yankees to the exclusion of all other baseball teams.
DYBO: Relax. I was just kidding. I hosted a party in here for a group from Boston just the other night. And they are welcome back any time. By the way, where are you calling from? I didn't recognize the area code.
Me: I live in Kansas. But I am a really big Mets fan and I love this country, just like all Americans.
DYBO: Wait, if you live in Kansas, then why the fuck do you care what we do in New York? There are Red Sox and Mets fans in New York and they don't care at all about my bar. In fact, they come in here sometimes (though usually they go the Mets bar around the corner, or the Red Sox bar up the street). I have lots of friends who are Mets fans, and a few who are Red Sox fans. Why are you calling me from Kansas to give me shit that no one in New York cares about? Are you just bored?
Me: People in the real America want to know that the hallowed ground of the WTC site is not being desecrated.
DYBO: I thought you people were all for local control and states' rights? Don't answer that. Look, I really have no idea what this is about. We were here before 9/11, and we have just as much of a right to be here as anyone else. There were dozens of Yankee bars in New York before 9/11 because there have always been thousands of Yankee fans in New York. I know some of them are assholes, and believe me, we hate those guys more than you do. But the overwhelming majority of Yankee fans are good people who just happen like a different team than you do. They probably got it from their parents.
You know, in the aftermath of 9/11, Americans rightly celebrated what is great about our country, including the freedom to follow whatever baseball team you want, whenever, wherever, and however you choose to follow them. Nothing could be more un-American than to question that most basic of our founding principles. Let the triumph of tolerance and American values over bigotry, hate and misinformation be the enduring lesson of 9/11, and let that be our lasting memorial to the fallen.
Me: That was pretty eloquent. Are you sure are not an allegory being used as a literary device to make a larger point?
DYBO: Whatever.
*This essay is a parody meant to demonstrate the author's views about . . . wait, forget it, if you don't get it then you are a moron. Either way, if anyone took this the wrong way or was truly offended, you have our and my sincere apologies. Seriously.**
**Unless you are a Yankees fan. In that case go cry it out with the other haters of freedom and peace and tolerance at the Dakota Roadhouse.
Showing posts with label 9-11. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 9-11. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, September 11, 2008
September Eleventh, Two-Thousand and One
The morning of September 11th, 2001 was a perfect late summer/early fall day.
Not a cloud in the sky.
The sky was blue and Michael Jordan was set to announce his third comeback. The night before, I had hung out in my new first post-college apartment with Angry White Dave and seen Ed McCaffrey get his leg FUCKED up on Monday night foootball while eating wings.
I was feeling pretty good.
I had an early meeting at my job at 111 John Street in my boss' office on the second floor that looked out onto John Street and straight up Broadway. A typical meeting, we were droaning on and insurance and such things.
I recall a loud noise, but nothing really out of the ordinary for downtown New York.
Then, we hear another HUGE explosion. We all immediately stopped and went to the window.
Now, you could see up Broadway to the north tower of the World Trade Center's twin towers but not the south tower because another building blocked the view.
My (super-hot) boss Diana shouted, "What was that?!"
I said, "look at those two trucks that are stopped in the middle of the street - they had an accident."
"No", said my evil co-worker defacto boss, Stephanie, "it's the world trade center!"
We looked up to see the north tower of the WTC with a big fire in the middle of it.
Now, Stephanie and Diana both had friends in the towers and were very concerned. I remember thinking that, like, a huge air conditioner unit or something had blown up. I went back to my cubicle to check it out online and my Aunt Susan called me.
"A plane flew into the World Trade Center!"
"What fucking idiot flies into the World Trade Center?" I asked myself as I hung up and went back into the office.
Diana and Stephanie were frantically calling people and I stood and watched for a while and eventually decided to make my way to the street.
I got out onto John Street to a crowd standing there looking up.
"Someone flew a plane into the World Trade Center!" Someone announced. I figured it was a prop plane.
I stood there for a while and then started up John to Broadway.
I got up to Broadway and realized shit was serious: both towers were on fire.
At that moment, I realized it was a terrorist attack. I stood there looking up at the burning buildings with hundreds of other people - just staring.
I could feel the heat emanating from the building and there was glass shattered on the street.
Kind of shocked but pretty much with my shit together, I started wandering back to my office.
Now, I had just seen that. It was about three or four blocks back to my office and it was a surreal scene but everyone was pretty calm, as was I. People had pulled cars over and radios were blasting and everyone was talking.
"Terrorist attack."
"They bombed the mall in Washington."
"There's one headed toward The Empire State Building."
"They blew up the Whitehouse."
Anything could have been possible and I didn't really doubt it. This was crazy.
I was - we all were - pretty rational about it given the circumstances.
I returned to the building to find Diana and Stephanie. They hadn't known where I had gone and were all worked up.
We stood there, not really knowing what to do and not allowed back in the building. Cell phone lines were down. So, we stood in awe.
Then we heard a sound. Unless you were there that day I'm not sure you can fully appreciate the sound. It was so loud, the earth was vibrating. I mean really really overwhelming - couldn't hear anything loud. Imagine that. Now multiply it by 100.
We all turned west toward the sound and saw an enormous cloud of smoke - like maybe 20 or 30 stories high - shoot up Broadway and seem to make a right turn toward us (and we were like 3 blocks away).
"Let's get the fuck out of here!" I shouted as we took off in the opposite direction.
At that moment, I was certain I knew what was going on: someone had just blown up another building and guys were going to pop out and mow us all down. No question. And it sucked. I didn't really feel true fear, as much as just knowing this was my fate and it sucked.
I'm not trying to be macho in saying I didn't panic. It was scary, but it's always struck me how I, and just about every single other person I was around that day didn't panic. I'm not sure if we were all just in shock or clicked into survival mode or it was just the New Yorker (or North Jerseyan!) or what but it was kind of strange or something how everyone remained really calm.
Well, we ran for a while and soon it became evident no one was going to shoot us at that time so we started to walk uptown.
Up Water Street to a Projects and made some phone calls - my boss' fiance' was downtown looking for her. He had snuck in on an emergency vehicle - pretty badass.
Another thing that struck me was how, out of nowhere, appeared cops. Everywhere.
On every block was a cop or CIA or FBI. Mad regular people with all kinds of badges, tags and guns.
We were standing there in the Projects and this kid on a bike with another kid on the pegs in the back with a camera rolled up.
"The World Trade Center fell."
"Get out of here", I said in disbelief.
"No, both of them - look they'd be right there".
I looked at empty air and smoke where the World Trade Center had stood just an hour earlier, in total disbelief.
We walked back downtown against the traffic and found her fiance' and headed back up town.
We walked to the Brooklyn Bridge with the sound of fighter jets criss-crossing Manhattan and got half way across when a UPS truck picked us up.
I rode, on the bumper of the truck, looking back at the smoke-filled skyline of lower Manhattan.
People were walking, joking and, generally, in much better spirits then you would expect.
In retrospect, I think it was, in fact, a combination of New York grit combined with shock and the survival instinct.
We got to the end of the bridge and men with machine guns were everywhere. It felt like a war-zone. I guess it was.
Anyway, we got off the truck and, as everyone jumped off I noticed some people were robbing it blind. I mean, that was the least of anyone's worries but some people just had as many packages as the could fit under their arms.
There was much heroism that day but this was truly the other side of human nature as well.
We walked back to my boss' apartment and I called my parents and girlfriend and friends - all of whom had been very worried, naturally. My parents were in Sweden so they, in particular, had no idea what was going on and were panicking and, of course, were relieved I was OK.
Diana, though, spent the night worrying about her friend that worked on the top of one of the towers for Cantor Fitzgerald.
She went home to Long Island and waited for her friend, the one who was going to be her maid of honor in her November wedding, to call.
Addelle was a loud Long Island type girl. Very energetic and sassy.
Di's best friend.
Addelle never called.
Not a cloud in the sky.
The sky was blue and Michael Jordan was set to announce his third comeback. The night before, I had hung out in my new first post-college apartment with Angry White Dave and seen Ed McCaffrey get his leg FUCKED up on Monday night foootball while eating wings.
I was feeling pretty good.
I had an early meeting at my job at 111 John Street in my boss' office on the second floor that looked out onto John Street and straight up Broadway. A typical meeting, we were droaning on and insurance and such things.
I recall a loud noise, but nothing really out of the ordinary for downtown New York.
Then, we hear another HUGE explosion. We all immediately stopped and went to the window.
Now, you could see up Broadway to the north tower of the World Trade Center's twin towers but not the south tower because another building blocked the view.
My (super-hot) boss Diana shouted, "What was that?!"
I said, "look at those two trucks that are stopped in the middle of the street - they had an accident."
"No", said my evil co-worker defacto boss, Stephanie, "it's the world trade center!"
We looked up to see the north tower of the WTC with a big fire in the middle of it.
Now, Stephanie and Diana both had friends in the towers and were very concerned. I remember thinking that, like, a huge air conditioner unit or something had blown up. I went back to my cubicle to check it out online and my Aunt Susan called me.
"A plane flew into the World Trade Center!"
"What fucking idiot flies into the World Trade Center?" I asked myself as I hung up and went back into the office.
Diana and Stephanie were frantically calling people and I stood and watched for a while and eventually decided to make my way to the street.
I got out onto John Street to a crowd standing there looking up.
"Someone flew a plane into the World Trade Center!" Someone announced. I figured it was a prop plane.
I stood there for a while and then started up John to Broadway.
I got up to Broadway and realized shit was serious: both towers were on fire.
At that moment, I realized it was a terrorist attack. I stood there looking up at the burning buildings with hundreds of other people - just staring.
I could feel the heat emanating from the building and there was glass shattered on the street.
Kind of shocked but pretty much with my shit together, I started wandering back to my office.
Now, I had just seen that. It was about three or four blocks back to my office and it was a surreal scene but everyone was pretty calm, as was I. People had pulled cars over and radios were blasting and everyone was talking.
"Terrorist attack."
"They bombed the mall in Washington."
"There's one headed toward The Empire State Building."
"They blew up the Whitehouse."
Anything could have been possible and I didn't really doubt it. This was crazy.
I was - we all were - pretty rational about it given the circumstances.
I returned to the building to find Diana and Stephanie. They hadn't known where I had gone and were all worked up.
We stood there, not really knowing what to do and not allowed back in the building. Cell phone lines were down. So, we stood in awe.
Then we heard a sound. Unless you were there that day I'm not sure you can fully appreciate the sound. It was so loud, the earth was vibrating. I mean really really overwhelming - couldn't hear anything loud. Imagine that. Now multiply it by 100.
We all turned west toward the sound and saw an enormous cloud of smoke - like maybe 20 or 30 stories high - shoot up Broadway and seem to make a right turn toward us (and we were like 3 blocks away).
"Let's get the fuck out of here!" I shouted as we took off in the opposite direction.
At that moment, I was certain I knew what was going on: someone had just blown up another building and guys were going to pop out and mow us all down. No question. And it sucked. I didn't really feel true fear, as much as just knowing this was my fate and it sucked.
I'm not trying to be macho in saying I didn't panic. It was scary, but it's always struck me how I, and just about every single other person I was around that day didn't panic. I'm not sure if we were all just in shock or clicked into survival mode or it was just the New Yorker (or North Jerseyan!) or what but it was kind of strange or something how everyone remained really calm.
Well, we ran for a while and soon it became evident no one was going to shoot us at that time so we started to walk uptown.
Up Water Street to a Projects and made some phone calls - my boss' fiance' was downtown looking for her. He had snuck in on an emergency vehicle - pretty badass.
Another thing that struck me was how, out of nowhere, appeared cops. Everywhere.
On every block was a cop or CIA or FBI. Mad regular people with all kinds of badges, tags and guns.
We were standing there in the Projects and this kid on a bike with another kid on the pegs in the back with a camera rolled up.
"The World Trade Center fell."
"Get out of here", I said in disbelief.
"No, both of them - look they'd be right there".
I looked at empty air and smoke where the World Trade Center had stood just an hour earlier, in total disbelief.
We walked back downtown against the traffic and found her fiance' and headed back up town.
We walked to the Brooklyn Bridge with the sound of fighter jets criss-crossing Manhattan and got half way across when a UPS truck picked us up.
I rode, on the bumper of the truck, looking back at the smoke-filled skyline of lower Manhattan.
People were walking, joking and, generally, in much better spirits then you would expect.
In retrospect, I think it was, in fact, a combination of New York grit combined with shock and the survival instinct.
We got to the end of the bridge and men with machine guns were everywhere. It felt like a war-zone. I guess it was.
Anyway, we got off the truck and, as everyone jumped off I noticed some people were robbing it blind. I mean, that was the least of anyone's worries but some people just had as many packages as the could fit under their arms.
There was much heroism that day but this was truly the other side of human nature as well.
We walked back to my boss' apartment and I called my parents and girlfriend and friends - all of whom had been very worried, naturally. My parents were in Sweden so they, in particular, had no idea what was going on and were panicking and, of course, were relieved I was OK.
Diana, though, spent the night worrying about her friend that worked on the top of one of the towers for Cantor Fitzgerald.
She went home to Long Island and waited for her friend, the one who was going to be her maid of honor in her November wedding, to call.
Addelle was a loud Long Island type girl. Very energetic and sassy.
Di's best friend.
Addelle never called.
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