I call my sister before leaving work to see if we are still on for dinner tonight, and she comes back with “Tommy (her friend who is a cop) just got off the phone with me because a plane hit a building in the city.” I immediately go into list mode:
water-bottle? check. cell phone? check. snacks and lifesavers? check.
“Let’s see what the cops are doing,” another teacher says, leaving the lounge to go look out the sliver of window in the hallway that overlooks police headquarters. “Lot of sirens out there.”
I drop off my attendance sheets and take off accross the bridge, checking in with my sister and mom (Daltron is in class and has his phone off) during parts of it.
As soon as I hit Brooklyn dirt, my blood pressure immediately drops.
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