Journalist
Inside an Eighth Avenue hangout, with fights, stretchers and nodding-out patrons
With ten, maybe twenty bags of trash slushing onto each other on the curb, the doors open to four men leaning a little too far into their chairs. Are they asleep? They’re not really moving. A line curls, immobile, from the lone cashier. This is 10 p.m. on a Monday at the McDonald’s on 34th Street and Eighth Avenue.
Director of the Village Halloween Parade reflects on the city’s spirit hours after the tragedy
There were lights. Reds, purples and blues danced across the made-up faces and costumes of intricate zombies, Marie Antoinettes, Pennywises, jedis and inflated T-rexes bobbing their heads above the spooky crowd. The fictional beings promenaded in throngs, the booming drums echoing down every block of Greenwich Village.
It was almost as if there hadn’t been an attack a mile away just four hours earlier.
