Thursday . September 27 . 2001 . 9:45pm A few years ago, my family and I had lunch at Windows on the World, the restaurant formerly located near the top of one of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. I can't remember anymore exactly which Tower the restaurant was in. I guess it doesn't much matter now. The food, frankly, was not great, but clearly the main reason to eat at Windows on the World was for the view. More than 100 stories above the city and with panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows around the perimeter, on a clear day, it felt as though you could see to infinity. It was truly breathtaking. I remember silently thanking the architects of the building as well as the Gods of Good Taste for deciding not to make Windows on the World one of those tacky "revolving" restaurants. It needed no gimmicks. The view was enough. It was a cold autumn day in November, and as we were waiting to be seated, I walked up to one of the huge windows--slowly, because I'm afraid of heights. The glass of the window was cold to the touch from the air outside, and as I peered downward, looking at the Financial District a full 107 stories below, I was struck by the impression that I was looking down into a well. It was a holiday, so the streets were empty, and shadows cast by buildings flanking the sidewalks bathed the pavement below in a still, concrete grey. It was like looking into a canyon. It was like looking into a maze. "Do people really work there?" I thought to myself. "Do they really walk along those sidewalks, hustling to get to their jobs in those buildings? Do they know what it looks like from up here?" The streets below continued to lie eerily still, like a museum exhibit. Even after we were told that our table was ready, I had a hard time tearing myself away from that window. Looking down, I got the strangest sensation, almost like vertigo; a spiraling, drifting feeling of falling, not unpleasant, to the city streets 107 stories below. |
Windows on the World |
