John was home when the news broke; I was in Manhattan signing up for an audition, when a fellow actor announced the surreal news. 150 Actors were gathered in the theater at St. Peter's Church in the Citicorp complex at 54th Street and Lexington Avenue, stunned as each subsequent event was disclosed over the radio. The Citicorp complex was evacuated, the audition canceled, and we struggled to make sense of what happened, and try to find our loved ones. NYC has an army of cell phone users, and all of us were shaking our heads in dismay to find our communication weapons useless. So we lined up at the Verizon payphones across town, attempting to "reach out and touch someone" despite many out of order phone booths. Having reached John, a friend, (who was visiting from LA) and I began the journey home to Brooklyn.
We headed downtown on 3rd Avenue, walking 50 blocks with little additional news, stopping at a restaurant to refuel, and rest my "barking dogs" who were inappropriately dressed for a hike. My friend got a message that a fellow "out of towner" (who was bunking at the same apt) was frightened and stranded in Central Park, so he set off to find her, and I keep walking towards home. The smoke was thick from downtown Manhattan; the streets were void of taxis, buses, cars, and trucks, and filled with pedestrians. I began to see streams of people covered in ash and wearing masks emerging from world trade center areas and heading uptown. Restaurants set up water stations and hosed people down. Everyone was orderly, and cooperative and grateful to be alive. In Chinatown, barefoot office workers bought Chinese slippers to make their way home on foot. I turned left at Canal Street and joined the thousands of others walking across the Manhattan Bridge to go home to Brooklyn. Subways were not running, buses were not in evidence. About halfway across the bridge, a woman came up alongside me and advised me to not roll over on my left foot, as my back would feel it later. I explained that I didn't have my walking shoes on, and although my orthotics were in the shoes, my bag (typical audition day gear weighing 15 lbs) was very heavy, adding to my misalignment. So she offered to share my load, and we each took a strap of my heavy bag, and encouraged each other over the bridge with the billowing smoke following behind us. God bless Abbey. So after a brief rest, which fueled my determination to get home to John, I walked the last mile of my journey up Flatbush Avenue past people offering to pray, take blood pressure and give water. A man on a bullhorn urged me to rest, pointing out that I wasn't "wearing the best shoes" (no, not the fashion police). I smiled and thanked him. So after 5 hours, and several stops along the way, I reached home, 9.3 miles (or an eternity, depending on your point of view), and John's loving arms. The beautiful view from my rooftop has been altered forever, luckily, inside the view is the same!! Love and prayers, MJ
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