OK, I have been lucky. Very, very lucky. A man once came out of the subway and pulled the trigger on a hand gun as I walked by. He was out of ammunition. I found out later he had just shot someone down on the subway platform. On June 28th, 1983, I drove over the Minus River bridge about 20 minutes before it collapsed and killed three people. A tornado preceding Hurricane Ivan skipped over my house in Florida and killed a man less than two miles away. There have been many other nearby tragic events in my lifetime. I guess if you live long enough you will inevitably find yourself in proximity to a lot of bad bad things.
Saturday night, I was just two blocks away from the infamous Nissan propane bomb car. I didn't hear a thing about it until the show I was attending ended after 8 o'clock. It was a great night in New York City. We had just enjoyed the live broadcast of a "Prairie Home Companion" at Town Hall. A big thrill for me because I have been a fan for 35 years. My friends and I had been so entertained by the show we had seen that we were probably immune to the fear vibe that was building all around us. We had a chance to speak at length to PHC cast members Fred Newman and Sue Scott after the show and we were all still a little buzzed by the contact with such amazing talents. Out on the street, word spread rapidly as we heard rumors of a bomb scare, or a possible car explosion, from members of the crowd blocked off from entering Times Square. I was shrugging it off and making jokes about Jack Bauer and "24" filming a segment. None of it seemed real.
By the time we walked to a nearby restaurant details were filtering through but no one seemed concerned or even alarmed. Outside of our restaurant, I noticed two novice police officers examining a compact car that was left at an odd angle to the curb. Someone had left it unattended and the two nervous cops were looking underneath. I peaked into the car and noticed a yellow Broadway Playbill and a sweater in the back seat. "Looks like a theater goer, there's a playbill in the back seat," I said out loud. The two young cops heard me and said, "What? What did you say?" I repeated my statement and they went back to looking at the car from all angles as I walked away. That was the first inkling I had that something more serious than a phony "bomb scare " was going on. Up to that point, I assumed that someone had called in a bomb scare to one of the other shows, that was supposed to start at eight o'clock, just to create some havoc on a Saturday night. Something about the expression on the faces of those two young officers was alarming. Those cops had obviously been briefed to cover every possible threat. They were scared and didn't want to screw anything up.
By the time we left the restaurant it was obvious by the chatter around us, the blocked streets and the massive police presence that something more ominous had occurred. The thought that this just might be a ruse or a distraction to pull the mass of police officers to Times Square away from another bomb site near Grand Central or Penn Station came to mind. I guess I've seen too many terrorist movies since 9/11.
Riding home on a late night Metro North train I was surrounded by the typical Saturday night party crowd. Laughing, talking, some even drunk. They were all winding down from their night on the town. It was business as usual and no one seemed aware that some of us might have dodged a bullet. Sometimes you get lucky.
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