Speaking of Thrilling

Yesterday, Saturday, there was a car bomb in Times Square.
I say car bomb lightly because it was propane tanks, tubs of gasoline and fireworks.
Al-Queda has claimed responsibility for the event. I don't know what they're doing, but ground bloom flowers aren't threatening. Bombs are threatening.
I don't know.
I heard that there was a bomb in Pittsburgh today, too. At the end of a marathon. Another failed attempt.

I don't want another 9/11. (This is the age of the understatement.)

I was at work in Times Square, 42nd Street, when we were informed to stay calm, be ready to guide patrons West to safety.

It was an odd day for me. We were ushering a dress rehearsal for our next show and I decided that meant business casual instead of uniform.
To me, business casual means oversized suit jacket, size-too-big dress shirt and brown pants.

All but one other coworker was in blacks on the day that a terrorist plot foiled four blocks away.

Isn't it funny that these are the things we think of when calamity strikes?
I looked different and was uncomfortable.
That's silly.

I seemed to be the only person with his heart racing. I was jittery and shook every time the doorbell on set rang.

I guess New Yorkers are acclimated to disaster.
Business as usual.

Most of the theaters in the area closed. The Square was evacuated.
My theater stayed open without interruption. Nope, business as usual.

It was exhilarating. Oooooo! Terrorism!
Even now, I can barely begin to imagine what would have happened had their been an explosion.
I want to take this seriously. I'm supposed to take this seriously, but there's a part of me that thinks he's going to live forever and he hasn't left yet.