"There will be no tranquility."
Still haven't read Angela's Ashes. Saw the movie though. It was very good. Not that this has anything to do with what this story's about - except they're both by Frank McCourt. Funny how NYC keeps getting adopted by people from all over the world. I suppose it comes naturally.
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/main.jhtml;$sessionid$3TWDSUD5A4SPHQFIQMFSFFWAVCBQ 0IV0?xml=/travel/2002/08/31/etmccour.xml&sSheet=/portal/2002/08/31/ixport.html&_requestid=150680&_requestid=150681&_r equestid=157076&_requestid=184371" target="_blank">My town one year on</a>
Has the Big Apple changed for ever? Frank McCourt, the author of Angela's Ashes and a long-term resident, gauges the mood in the streets and bars
[quote]How goes it with New York? You mean Manhattan, don't you? When you say New York you're not thinking of the "other" boroughs: Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx. You're not asking about Flatbush or Flushing or Richmond or the Grand Concourse. You're thinking of this one island with its crowded roaring streets and that great grey hole where once the Twin Towers stood.
You have to tell your own story about that day, that hole.
On September 11, 2001, I had lunch with my wife, Ellen, at a restaurant in Marylebone, London. I heard a waitress tell a customer that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Centre in New York. I grumbled to myself, "Can't they talk about anything but science fiction?" till her tone said this was real. She turned on a radio and we heard of the second hit. The radio wasn't enough. You have to see everything on television.
Across the street to a pub. People stood like penguins watching the television. No drink was being served. A man marched up to some kind of play machine but stopped when someone said: "Please don't do that." My wife said something to someone and when they heard her American accent she was offered a seat.
Pub by pub we made our way back to our hotel. Barmen stood with their arms folded. We saw no drinks being served. Cars were left willy-nilly on the streets while drivers rushed in for a glimpse of disaster.
Five days later we were back in Manhattan and this, surely, is where the story begins and it's a story of emotions, none of which can be recollected in tranquillity. There will be no tranquillity...<hr></blockquote>
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/main.jhtml;$sessionid$3TWDSUD5A4SPHQFIQMFSFFWAVCBQ 0IV0?xml=/travel/2002/08/31/etmccour.xml&sSheet=/portal/2002/08/31/ixport.html&_requestid=150680&_requestid=150681&_r equestid=157076&_requestid=184371" target="_blank">My town one year on</a>
Has the Big Apple changed for ever? Frank McCourt, the author of Angela's Ashes and a long-term resident, gauges the mood in the streets and bars
[quote]How goes it with New York? You mean Manhattan, don't you? When you say New York you're not thinking of the "other" boroughs: Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx. You're not asking about Flatbush or Flushing or Richmond or the Grand Concourse. You're thinking of this one island with its crowded roaring streets and that great grey hole where once the Twin Towers stood.
You have to tell your own story about that day, that hole.
On September 11, 2001, I had lunch with my wife, Ellen, at a restaurant in Marylebone, London. I heard a waitress tell a customer that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Centre in New York. I grumbled to myself, "Can't they talk about anything but science fiction?" till her tone said this was real. She turned on a radio and we heard of the second hit. The radio wasn't enough. You have to see everything on television.
Across the street to a pub. People stood like penguins watching the television. No drink was being served. A man marched up to some kind of play machine but stopped when someone said: "Please don't do that." My wife said something to someone and when they heard her American accent she was offered a seat.
Pub by pub we made our way back to our hotel. Barmen stood with their arms folded. We saw no drinks being served. Cars were left willy-nilly on the streets while drivers rushed in for a glimpse of disaster.
Five days later we were back in Manhattan and this, surely, is where the story begins and it's a story of emotions, none of which can be recollected in tranquillity. There will be no tranquillity...<hr></blockquote>
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