For those of you who don’t know my relationship with the seaport, I will sum it up for you.
The seaport is a little slice of New York heaven. It’s a place in New York City close to my residence, where I can feel a breeze, buy knock-off Ray Bans and enjoy a five-dollar Miami Vice.
So as I laid in bed in a post morning show coma on Saturday afternoon, I heard my roommate mention the seaport was ablaze.
BAM! I was out of a coma, changed hats from sleepy student to jumpy journalist. I wanted to go to the seaport and gather some of the facts for myself.
Upon my arrival, the cause of the chaos had settled down. Police officers and tape separated tourists and I from the real scene of the fire. But the only trace of flames came as a hint of smoke in the air, but that could have easily been produced by one of many Halal food trucks nearby.
However, the fire did happen. If you’re looking for all of the details, check out NBC NEW YORK.
Then I decided to stalk local news trucks and ask for a job. NBD. I’m still unemployed.