I remember having a Saturday morning free from work in lower Manhattan just a year before 911. With new batteries in my Amigo mobility scooter and the look of a new visitor in town, I left my hotel, passed the Trump building at 40 Wall Street, noted the Stock Exchange was much smaller than I had imagined and then meandered over to the Towers.
I had to backtrack a couple of blocks to get to the Tower 1 entrance because some of the streets didn’t have curb cuts.
But it was still early (no Saturday crowd of tourists yet), and a security guard at Tower 1 helped me with the entrance door.
“Where do I get a ticket to go to the top?” I asked.
“Take the escalator to the second floor,” the security guy replied. “You all alone?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I gave him twenty bucks, and he returned with a ten dollar bill and my ticket. He then escorted me to one of the express elevators which took me to the top of Tower 1.
Tower I did not have the most breathing-taking architecture. It lacked a “I’m-at-home feeling,” but I did see Central Park and the Statue of Liberty through the vertical windows.
As I was about to go down on the same express elevator, the now-on-duty elevator operator ushered me into a much smaller elevator to avoid the growing crowd.
Doormen, security guards and service people have been most helpful for me over the years.
* What favorite memory is helping you honor your past with gratitude?
I remember having a Saturday morning free from work in lower Manhattan just a year before 911. With new batteries in my Amigo mobility scooter and the look of a new visitor in town, I left my hotel, passed the Trump building at 40 Wall Street, noted the Stock Exchange was much smaller than I had imagined and then meandered over to the Towers.
I had to backtrack a couple of blocks to get to the Tower 1 entrance because some of the streets didn’t have curb cuts.
But it was still early (no Saturday crowd of tourists yet), and a security guard at Tower 1 helped me with the entrance door.
“Where do I get a ticket to go to the top?” I asked.
“Take the escalator to the second floor,” the security guy replied. “You all alone?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I gave him twenty bucks, and he returned with a ten dollar bill and my ticket. He then escorted me to one of the express elevators which took me to the top of Tower 1.
Tower I did not have the most breathing-taking architecture. It lacked a “I’m-at-home feeling,” but I did see Central Park and the Statue of Liberty through the vertical windows.
As I was about to go down on the same express elevator, the now-on-duty elevator operator ushered me into a much smaller elevator to avoid the growing crowd.
Doormen, security guards and service people have been most helpful for me over the years.
* What favorite memory is helping you honor your past with gratitude?