Living in Fear Update

For the past several years now, New York conversations have often veered towards considerations of apocalyptic scenarios. Even before September 11, New Yorkers were a pessimistic breed. Then came the anthrax and the blackout and the London subway bombings, so now we’re essentially a city of eight million paranoid freaks. We’re all like the man muttering to himself about the FBI on the 6 train at three in the morning, we’re just better at hiding it.

Yesterday I had separate conversations, with friends Nick and Jon, about how many different things could happen that would send me immediately scurrying from NYC. Another major attack of a landmark might not do it, at least not for reasons of physical fear, but I mentioned that a subway bombing might do the trick, which led to this uniquely New York exchange:

Nick: Just one (subway bomb)?
Me: Probably.
Nick: What if it wasn’t on your line?
Me: I’m not sure that would make a difference. It might.

While we all remain wary of potential human enemies, though, it’s those pesky birds we need to look out for. I say that freedom must yield to caution during dangerous times, so I’m demanding that every third bird be searched before getting on mass transit systems. I know this will make me unpopular, but I’ll stand by it.

Last night, I pointed out to Jon that the 1918 influenza epidemic killed 14 billion people worldwide (I was exaggerating to get his attention), but he reassured me that any mega-killer flu, like the everyday variety, would mostly affect the old and infirm. But I read on the web today (and like most, I believe everything I read on the web) that: "The (1918) flu was most deadly for people ages 20 to 40. This pattern of morbidity was unusual for influenza which is usually a killer of the elderly and young children." Hmm. Never have I so wished to be elderly.