the 9/11 hangover:
THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS
By David Wallis
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Nearly two years after two hijacked jets smashed into the Twin Towers, many New Yorkers continue to feel reverberations from the attacks. Exposure to the carnage-- witnessed by an estimated thirty percent of Manhattanites--followed by an anthrax scare a month later, followed by repeated warnings about dire al Qaeda plots (not to mention the occasional nerve-rattling blackout)--has warped the daily routine, though sometimes subtly so. "There is a pervasive anxiety throughout the city," reports April Naturale, statewide director of Project Liberty, a mental health initiative that has provided crisis counseling for approximately 400,000 people since its November 2001 launch. "Anxiety makes people do a lot of things. . . . People may be walking around, going to work, taking care of their children, functioning, but they don't feel good."
Despite the chin-up attitude pervasive among New Yorkers, apprehension is still palpable in the city, particularly on the subways. Passengers scan crowds. An abandoned briefcase can create havoc. The Metropolitan Transportation Authority recently posted ads in subway cars, advising passengers to refrain from eating on the go lest jittery commuters mistake spilled mustard for a deadly biological agent.
Ben Dickinson had a sky-is-falling moment on the downtown Number Two train just before the first anniversary of the attacks. To increase their chances of surviving a bombing, Mr. Dickinson and his wife inexplicably decided to ride in the last car of the train. Then, as the Iraq war approached, Mr. Dickinson told his wife that they should stop taking the same train in the mornings to reduce the possibility of orphaning their three children. "They don't let the Congress fly on the same airplane for a reason," reasoned Mr. Dickinson. He ultimately abandoned this "cockamamie" plan, acknowledging, "When you don't have control of your fate, there's an impulse to somehow assert control by making arbitrary decisions."
A similar sentiment undoubtedly triggered a cell phone boom after September 11. Prior to the attacks, many "creatives" judged mobile communication as gauche--something for pimps, drug dealers and garmentos. I can afford not to be in touch, the thinking went. Now, after hearing broadcast recordings of doomed victims of the attacks, saying a last goodbye to their loved ones thanks to wireless technology, there is no shame in whipping out a cell phone to call home.
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Perhaps the most common behavioral change, say mental health professionals, is a heightened "startle effect," an acute sensitivity to sudden, loud noise. When a truck backfires, a steam pipe explodes or a jet roars overhead, New Yorkers flinch. Hearts beat faster. "If I see a helicopter I wonder is that a regular helicopter or a helicopter with a purpose," explained Roger Newton, a photographer sitting at outside a SoHo coffee shop with his Pug Murry--"there's no A in Murry" pointed out Mr. Newton--draped across his lap. In May, a chartered Continental Airlines jet bringing home troops from Iraq buzzed the Statue of Liberty, giving its war-weary passengers a thrill and countless war-weary New Yorkers a scare. [Barraged by complaints, the Federal Aviation Authority subsequently issued an order banning similar stunts].
Low-flying airplanes and hovering helicopters do not faze Frances Reddick. Plenty else does. As the Parks Department employee stabs cigarette butts with a spike in front of a SoHo playground, she rattles off a list of recent qualms: She now avoids buildings that are more than five stories tall. She can't help but think towering inferno when she sees chimney smoke rise above a building. When a man who could be from the Middle East gets on her subway car, she gets off. "But do you know the biggest difference after 9-11?" she asks. "I don't read newspapers on purpose--too much stress."
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David Wallis is the founder of Featurewell and contributes to The New York Times Magazine, The Washington Post and the Observer of London, among other publications. He is the editor of the forthcoming anthology "Killed: True Stories You Were Never Meant To Read."
