I woke up this morning eager to grab the most important news off my iPad — latest city election results. I found them and encountered no other headlines of interest to New Yorkers (except maybe the Yankees win).

The sidewalk was packed with workers and school kids on my short walk to the L train at 8AM. No police, no dogs, no nervous commuters. Everybody was mostly annoyed by the humidity and the fact that three trains went by before we could get on one. Union Square was just the same as I changed to the 5 train — completely mobbed. The only people hustling for attention were the AM New York town criers.

At Fulton Street, the crowd was like any other day. That held true until I rounded the corner on Vesey Street to a line a of news vans and reporters doing stand ups. One reporter jostled past me trying to grab two firemen; they refused an interview.

It was at this point it occurred...

The ‘80s were ending and so was the school year. Life should have been great. I was in the parking lot of Mary Eyre Elementary facing the entire student body. To my left sat the Principal and next to her Miss Mary Eyre herself, our schools namesake. She must have been in her 90s according to the school’s archaic website (it looks like it was made only a couple years after I left).

Sommer Ivie sat to my right – my neighbor and my first girlfriend. Though we sat in front of our classmates as a shining example of a sixth-grade power couple, at that moment we were more like Bill and Hillary (political marriage of convenience) than Michelle and Barrack. I was the school’s first Student Body President (take that George Washington) and Sommer was elected Secretary. Being voted Sixth Grade Girl and Boy should have been the cherry on our popularity sundae.

However, there was trouble in...