On the night before the New York City Marathon, we were somewhat arbitrarily at Randolph's, the hotel bar at the Warwick on Sixth Avenue, to have drinks with a friend who was in town from New Jersey. She had wanted to meet us somewhere in midtown. We sat at the bar and started catching up with her on things, including the recent events in the news. The truck rampage on the bike path in Tribeca had happened a few days earlier, and though it had a major effect on the news cycle, we agreed, it didn't seem to have much effect on us or "New Yorkers" generally. The massive Halloween parade in Greenwich Village a few blocks away went on as planned. We saw lots and lots of families out in the streets of our neighborhood too, lots of masked people and congested sidewalks, and brownstones disguised as haunted houses, but no ambiance of fear. What could you do? In the end, the chances seem small it will happen to you, and there's nothing you can do really to protect yourself anyway, so why worry?
Grief tourism
Grief tourism
Grief tourism
On the night before the New York City Marathon, we were somewhat arbitrarily at Randolph's, the hotel bar at the Warwick on Sixth Avenue, to have drinks with a friend who was in town from New Jersey. She had wanted to meet us somewhere in midtown. We sat at the bar and started catching up with her on things, including the recent events in the news. The truck rampage on the bike path in Tribeca had happened a few days earlier, and though it had a major effect on the news cycle, we agreed, it didn't seem to have much effect on us or "New Yorkers" generally. The massive Halloween parade in Greenwich Village a few blocks away went on as planned. We saw lots and lots of families out in the streets of our neighborhood too, lots of masked people and congested sidewalks, and brownstones disguised as haunted houses, but no ambiance of fear. What could you do? In the end, the chances seem small it will happen to you, and there's nothing you can do really to protect yourself anyway, so why worry?