I never visited the World Trade Center. Ever. Perhaps I, as a native New Yorker, always believed that the towers would always be there. Additionally, I never had the confidence to explore the city. In any event, on May 27th, my sister and I rode the E Train all the way to lower Manhattan. Emerging from the subway, we observed that area where the towers once stood was completely fenced off. After following the crowd to an information center, we were directed to the 9-11 Memorial Museum.
For some reason, I was not saddened looking at the artifacts, such as a window from one of the hijacked planes, a steel beam, and the pictures of the missing/lost. The mood was very respectful. The replica of the towers was very nice. Additionally, items -expressing grief/sorrow/solidarity- from all over the world were displayed on the walls. For people who are more sentimental, they have boxes of tissues all over the place. Downstairs, they have an area where people can write messages onto cards. The cards are placed into a box and eventually stored in binders, which are available for review.
When we emerged from the museum, the sun was shinging and the temperature had inceased by about 10 degrees. Hopping back on the E Train, we transferred to the F Train, bought overpriced McDonalds, and ate in Washington Square. From there, we caught the 1 Train and rode to Christopher Street. Having never been to the West Village, I instinctively knew to look for the piers. While I was removing my jacket, this older black man looks at me and said "I know where you're going. Don't worry. They're all down there." As we proceeded down Christopher Street, we stopped at an intersection and saw none other than Mr. Bruce Willis. I kid you not. He was in a black Navigator with tinted windows. The windows were rolled down, of course. All I could say was "Oh, shit, that's Bruce Willis." My sister was as dumbfounded as I was. He just laughed and repeated what I said. The light turned green before I could take a picture.
Aside from me having to check three lesbians for hitting on my sister ("She still got a fat ass"), nothing really interesting happened at the pier. People were jogging, exercising, dancing, and enjoying the day. From what I hear, the area doesn't really start popping until the night. By then, we were on our way to Battery Park.
Determined to catch a close glimpe of Lady Liberty, we rode the 1 Train to its final destination: South Ferry. Hopping on the Staten Island Ferry (which is free), we stood near the open windows and took as many pictures as we could. It was crazy being surrounded by all of that water. After staying in Staten Island for 15 minutes, we returned to Manhattan and rode the trains back to Long Island.
I spent the remaining four days hanging out with my dad and visiting a few family members. I even went back to the fast-food restaurant I worked at when I was in high school. Three of the people who worked with me from 1993-1995 were still there. I even kicked it with the dude who took my best female friend to his prom; he's gay. Before I knew it, it was time for me to head back home. Oh, my favorite cousin, the one I stayed with for two days, had the nerve to call me Saturday morning and say she couldn't get me to the airport. Fortunately, my uncle got me there with plenty of time to spare.
I don't know when I'll return to NY; probably sooner than I expect. My next planned destination is San Francisco. I hope to go in August. Stay tuned.
P.S. I am really feeling this new Raphael Saadiq (sp) song.
"Never Give You Up," by Raphael Saadiq ft. Stevie Wonder and C.J. Hilton
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