Matt and I went to Jere’s birthday gathering last night in midtown. We took the A train up to 8th and 50th and walked from there to 9th and 53rd.

There were at least two cops at every intersection. Eighth and Ninth Avenues each contained two endless rows of bright orange traffic cones, extending north and south, block after block, as far as I could see. As we crossed 8th, I looked south and saw, 20 blocks away, the covered pedestrian bridge for journalists that connects Madison Square Garden to the Farley Post Office Building. It was strange to think that the national news media was focused, at that moment, on a place just 20 blocks south of us.

After drinks with Jere, Matt and I had dinner nearby at Vynl, a restaurant we like. By that time, it was dark outside, and every few minutes, through the restaurant window, I could see another police car or unmarked black car zoom by with lights flashing. It was eerie.

It’s only just now, as I’m writing this, that I realize it made me think of the morning of September 11, when I saw vehicle after vehicle zooming up Sixth Avenue, many of them covered with World Trade Center debris.

I guess the city has come full circle this week. It’s poetic, in a twisted sort of way.