Manhattan, NY, October 7th

Last Monday, my first full day in Manhattan, I went to the courthouse below Canal Street to attend to some business. Just outside the building, the streets were blocked because a large delivery van, suspected of carrying a bomb, had been stopped and was being searched.

After gawking briefly, I was surprised that my next reaction was unconcern, ho-hum, well isn't that interesting; these things probably happen a dozen times a day - at least nowadays. Nothing was found in the van, except the realization that I'm not in Cody, Wyoming anymore.

More unnerving, to me anyhow, is viewing the local announcement cable channel. With the American flag as backdrop and accompanied by appropriate music, various notices periodically appear with information for free legal advice for estates, applications for death certificates, affidavits for family members to certify that their 'loved one' was a member of the NYPD, etc. Each one is a visceral reminder of the gruesome tasks thousands must now undertake.

Giuliani speaks of the city getting back to normal, but 'normal' is not a word that has ever been used to describe this great gotham. True, the city is quieter, less busy, restaurants half full, and much less arrogance evident. In the words of Bush the First, a 'kinder, gentler' metropolis. However, it doesn't seem to be so much motivated by a community spirit, but more like a bully suddenly embarrassed that his hubris is showing.

Cousin Michelle informed me that the honking of car horns in Manhattan is now a misdemeanor, accompanied by a $300 fine. Gladly, as time passes, that seemingly innocuous prohibition is slowly being undermined by cab drivers and others rushing to their destinations - and rushing back to normal.

And for Manhattan, 'normal' means car horns in a constant chorus of implied expletives, real estate priced by the cubic inch, Brazilian and Swedish interethnic families being served by Eastern Indians at crowded Italian restaurants, deli owners rationing napkins (wait, they still do), and everyone's patience being tried - by everyone else.

I like normal. I'll take Manhattan, but make mine a double, both shaken and stirred.

Ciao