19-Apr-13

You know your day is going to be interesting when you get a call, first thing in the morning, asking if you’re ok and whether or not you’ve seen the news yet.

Today started out like any other Friday morning – I got out of bed, packed my work clothes into my drybag to put in my bike, and started walking downstairs to jump in the shower.  But instead of getting in the shower, I picked up a call from my Stepdad Steve, when I heard the dreaded words asking about my knowledge of current events.  Boston police, MBTA police, MIT Campus police, and every other form of law enforcement agency we have here in Mass had cornered the Marathon Bombers, and the area was locked down for a city-wide manhunt…

• After Steve’s phone call sent me to the internet, I realized that not only was Watertown (the main site of the “battle”) locked down, but all adjacent towns as well… including Cambridge and Waltham.  My home is locked down, my office is locked down… yeah.  Staying home today.
• After calling Carey (my boss) and letting him know that I wouldn’t be in, I set myself down with my netbook to try and figure out exactly what was going on.  None of the news agencies had a coherent picture, but I was finally able to put together enough of what had happened
• Seriously… what?  This was grand-theft-auto level shit going on… people driving around, throwing grenades at cops?  Officers being assassinated in their cars?  Responders running out of bullets after a protracted firefight on city streets?  Seriously?
• Whelp, I’m staying indoors ‘till this blows over.
• Call Marla while she’s walking Minor… thankfully she brought her phone for once, and so I let her in on what’s going down.  Her and Minor hustle their way back.
• After making a solid and delicious breakfast, a nice little surprise on a Friday, Marla and I set ourselves up for a fairly boring stuck-at-home day…
  • The back deck becomes a pillow pit, after I pull nearly everything off my bed to make a nest for myself.  Marla’s all fancy and just uses a chair
  • With my netbook next to me, open to the news, I lay back for a bit of reading.  Bond, Blofeld, they make nice distractions
  • We learn that the action (if you should call it that) happened literally down the street from Marla’s office.  Like… less than 500ft away.
  • I get some video games in with Chirag, shoot the shit with Dave, and generally have a relaxing day… or at least as relaxing as ones day can be when you’re told not to open the doors to anyone aside from a uniformed police officer.
  • The evening finally rolls around, and minor is in desperate need of a walk.  Poor guy’s been cooped up all day with us… so after a quick check on the news tells me that it’s at least sort of safe to go outside, Marla and I head out into the war zone
  • It’s… not a war zone.  At all.  It’s quiet, but there’s no looting, no insanity.  Just… a city relaxing.  There isn’t even an aura of stress and fear – you can tell when large groups of people are afraid, and this definitely wasn’t it.
  • Once we get to Davis, which is technically in Somerville and not in the lockdown, we see where Bostonian’s are: at the bar.  Drinking and watching the TVs.  So, we grab a beer and visit with people for a bit.  It’s nice to socialize after being locked indoors all day
  • Heading home after a bit, the city is still quiet, but it’s starting to open back up again
  • On the news, we hear the end of it all.  They caught the remaining bomber in a boat a few yards from Marla’s office.  That’s all there is.  An ambulance comes and whisks him away, and we all go about the business of forgetting him.  Not what he did, or the victims of those actions… but the person himself.
    • It’s scary, actually.  I’m sitting here at the end of June, writing this journal entry.  And I think back… and no one’s heard anything about this kid since he was moved to a military hospital.  Nothing.  I actually had to search for an article that says that he was officially charged with the assault a few days back.
    • I think I’m ok with that.  Don’t forget what happened.  Don’t forget that we aren’t always perfectly safe, and never forget those hurt in the attack… but the person who did it?  He doesn’t matter.  He doesn’t deserve infamy or fame… all he deserves is a trial.