Boy, Are We Glad We Don't Live in New York Anymore
Seattlest got the news from a coworker yesterday: an explosion in midtown Manhattan had resulted in a collapsed building (MSNBC); then that no, in fact, it was a transformer that exploded, leaving a nearby building "shaky" (CNN).
What in fact happened was that a steam pipe burst, sending what the media is--we think amusingly--calling a "geyser of steam and debris" (and, we should add, asbestos) into the air. What's more terrifying than a burst steam pipe in midtown Manhattan in the middle of midweek rush hour? A geyser in midtown Manhattan!
Police almost immediately released the news to the public that it most certainly was not a terrorist attack, which we think is just sad and unfortunate, because that's the kind of world we live in. Because that's what Seattlest, who watched 9/11 unfold from the corner of 23rd and Broadway, would have thought, had we been in Manhattan yesterday. Because New York City is one big terrorist target after another. A journalist friend mused yesterday that there is nowhere in Manhattan where a "geyser of steam and debris" could go off without it being somewhere near something that could be considered a terrorist target. In this case, the geyser ripped through midtown, near Grand Central Station. We figure the reason the cops knew it wasn't some sort of attack before doing any investigation is because, if you're a terrorist, why hit a couple blocks away from Grand Central when Grand Central is right there?
See, and this, our friends, is one upon many reasons that we packed our little Volkswagen bug and got the hell out of New York in 2002. If a pipe bursts in Seattle, the media announces that a pipe burst. Nobody thought for a second that the flash flood that took place here this spring had anything to do with anything other than a burst pipe. Nobody called it a geyser or even a flash flood. It was a burst pipe. Traffic was diverted, people bitched and moaned, but nobody ran away screaming in a frantic panic, because the city of Seattle is not overwrought with post-traumatic stress.
Granted, our pipe bursting incident didn't send a geyser of debris and asbestos into the air, but it did swallow some cars.
We feel for our New York friends, and we so dearly love Manhattan. We love Crif Dogs and South Street Seaport. We love Battery Park and all the junkies in Thompkins Square. We love the Sidewalk Cafe and McSorley's Pub. But damned if we're not happy as a clam living here in Seattle, where we can't get a bacon-wrapped hotdog with avocado anywhere we know of (well, also, we're vegetarians now). Where we can't be entertained every morning on public transit by a guy dressed like a horse. And where, when a pipe bursts, it's just a steam pipe bursting and not a tragic reminder that we are still so full of fear and anxiety.
For a less media-mocking, snarky assessment of the situation, please refer to Gothamist's coverage.
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