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Directors: Michael D. Olmos; Creator: Robert Mailer Anderson; country: USA; review: On the morning of September 11, 2001, Fernando and his family in Mexico watch the news in horror as the Twin Towers collapse. His father, Balthazar, is an undocumented busboy on the top floor in the Windows on the World restaurant. Three weeks pass, and there is no word from Balthazar. No telephone calls, money orders, or hope that he is alive. As the family grieves, feeling the emotional and financial toll of their absent patriarch, Fernando's distraught mother swears she sees her husband on news footage - escaping from the building ALIVE. Heroic Fernando decides to take the epic journey from Mexico to New York City to find his father and save his family. Along the way, he finds love and befriends an eclectic group of international characters that help him restore his faith in humanity, as Fernando discovers the hard truths about his father, the melting pot of America, and the immigrant experience; ; Year: 2019.

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The electricity grid could not cope if everyone turned to electric cars. Electric car owners currently pay zero fuel tax and probably zero road tax. So where would the shortfall in tax income come from to fill the government coffers? Gas powered power stations produce CO2 and the losses in transmitting the power considerably multiply the CO2 production.

 

Watch Stream Windows on the world.
Beautiful video. Would've been so nice to visit here one day. If only.
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Watch Stream Windows of the world. August 31, 2019 | 11:40am | Updated August 31, 2019 | 1:25pm Enlarge Image Windows on the World, which sat atop the World Trade Center's north tower, is celebrated in a new book, "The Most Spectacular Restaurant in the World, " by Tom Roston. Ezra Stoller/Esto On an icebound night in February 1993, I trekked with a few hundred other New York Post employees — copy kids, writers and top editors — to a party none would soon forget. Our host was Steven Hoffenberg, a tax fraudster who briefly controlled the newspaper before he was sentenced to a long prison term. The venue was Windows on the World — technically the 106th floor, the banquet level that was one story below the main dining room. The black night pressed hard against the windows. I felt the room wobble, as the towers did in high winds. We drank ourselves silly. No one could stomach Hoffenberg, the cash-strapped Post’s short-lived “savior. ” But he laid on unlimited food and booze, and we all had a ball. You won’t find that notorious party in Tom Roston’s splendid new Abrams Press book, “ The Most Spectacular Restaurant in the World: The Twin Towers, Windows on the World, and the Rebirth of New York. ” But no single account could scratch the surface of all the life and drama that Windows on the World bore during its mere 25 years. The city’s premier celebration venue, deeply woven into its social, culinary and business fabrics, deserved a proper history. Roston delivers it with power, detail, humor and heartbreak to spare. Hoffenberg had good reason to choose Windows to try and persuade Post employees that he was really a good guy. No competitor could match its capacity to awe and thrill. Not even the older Rainbow Room and certainly not tourist-trap Tavern on the Green. Although not a regular, I experienced Windows at its best and worst. For every marvelous meal, there was a mediocre or disastrous one. Two weeks after Hoffenberg’s bacchanal, we were invited by a publicist to a more normal dinner. We never got there: The date was Feb. 26, 1993 — when terrorists first struck the Twin Towers with a bomb planted in the basement that killed six people and traumatized thousands more. Like most New Yorkers, I wouldn’t get to see Windows again until it reopened three years later with an all-new look. Many famous local restaurants — The Four Seasons, Balthazar — have been subjects of whole books. But strangely, there’s previously been none entirely devoted to Windows on the World, a noble but tragic enterprise so huge that it comprised five distinct venues on two floors. The top of the North Tower (on the left with antenna) housed the Windows on the World restaurant. The LIFE Images Collection via G Roston brings it to life with a novelist’s skill — as on the eerie night when patrons and staff watched alarmed as the blackout of July 1977 plunged one chunk of the city after another into darkness. His telling of the hours before the planes struck on 9/11 gave me chills even though I’d read about them so many times before. Port Authority honcho Guy Tozzoli, who drove development of the original World Trade Center, fought with Twin Towers architect Minoru Yamasaki over the fact that Windows’ vertical windows were painfully narrow. Tozzoli got Yamasaki to widen them by a half-foot each on the 107th floor before the place opened. But the architect insisted on symmetry, so the PA also had to widen the corresponding windows on the south tower where there was no restaurant, only offices. The kitchen was the scene of innumerable crazy moments. One chef, Marc Murphy, cut a hole in a wall so he could have “cold Heinekens delivered to him expeditiously and surreptitiously. ” On stressful nights, cooks threw curried kumquats at each other “at high speed” to break the tension. Windows somehow survived a turbulent procession of internal power struggles as well as changes in ownership, management, critical reputation and culinary direction to emerge in 2000 as the world’s highest-grossing restaurant ($38. 8 million). It was a stirring revival following years when, as wine director Kevin Zraly put it, “The place sucked. ” The names of Joe Baum, the restaurant genius who created Windows, and star chef Michael Lomonaco — who rescued its flagging kitchen in the late ’90s and escaped death on 9/11 thanks to an errand — are familiar to millions. Fewer knew of Alan Lewis, Baum’s explosive floor boss who “walked the 107th floor like an agitated shark, ” terrified the staff and once threw a spoonful of soup at chef André René when he didn’t like the way it tasted. But there’s more than colorful anecdotes. Roston frames Windows’ history in the context of urban decline and renewal. He relates its up-and-down fortunes to those of the city — the decay of the mid-1970s, the Wall Street boom and bust of the 1980s, the murder and AIDS plagues of the early 1990s and the Giuliani-era revival. In this telling, Windows comes to symbolize New York City’s singular capacity to regenerate itself with every turn of the cycle. What a pity that the new World Trade Center has nothing to compare with it — only a small, top-floor dining room with bad food and precious little view. But for those who missed it, Roston’s book is a wide-open window on the glory of what was.

Have you looked at Royal Raymond Rife in any of your shows? Rife machines based on his work are used today, but little known as a safe and effective cancer treatment.

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Watch stream windows on the world full. Watch stream windows on the world download. : he looked like a happy person. RIP Roko. Windows on the World Windows on the World marraskuussa 1999. Osoite One World Trade Center, 107th Floor Sijainti New York, Yhdysvallat Avattu 19. huhtikuuta 1976 Suljettu 11. syyskuuta 2001 Pääkokki Michael Lomonaco [1] Paikkoja 240 Windows on the World oli New Yorkin World Trade Centerin kaksoistornien Pohjoistornin (One World Trade Center) 106. ja 107. kerroksessa sijainnut ravintolakompleksi, joka käsitti kaksi ravintolaa, Windows on the Worldin ja Wild Bluen, sekä baarin nimeltä The Greatest Bar on Earth. Lisäksi kerroksissa oli myös tiloja yksityistilaisuuksille. Windows on the World käsitti 4 600 neliömetriä lattiapinta-alaa ja paikat 240 asiakkaalle. Ravintola aloitti toimintansa huhtikuussa 1976 ja se tuhoutui syyskuun 11. päivän iskuissa World Trade Centerin kaksoistornien romahdettua. [2] Historia [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Ravintoloitsija Joe Baum kehitti ja toteutti suunnitelman perustaa ravintolakompleksi World Trade Centerin Pohjoistornin ylimpiin kerroksiin. Olemassaolonsa aikana Windows on the Worldista oli yksi New Yorkin tunnetuimmista ravintoloista. Vuonna 1993 Windows on the World jouduttiin sulkemaan moneksi vuodeksi 25 miljoonaa dollaria maksaneen peruskorjauksen vuoksi World Trade Centerin pommi-iskun jälkeen. Ravintola avattiin uudelleen vuonna 1996. Vuonna 2000, ravintolan viimeisenä kokonaisena toimintavuotena, Windows on the Worldin tulot olivat 37 miljoonaa dollaria tehden siitä Yhdysvaltojen taloudellisesti menestyneimmän ravintolan. [3] Windows on the Worldin viimeisenä pääkokkina toimi Michael Lomonaco. Syyskuun 11. päivän iskut [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Ravintolakompleksi tuhoutui syyskuun 11. päivän iskuissa vuonna 2001, kun 19 terroristia otti haltuunsa neljä matkustajalentokonetta Yhdysvalloissa. Yksi kaapatuista koneista oli American Airlinesin lento 11, joka törmäsi One World Trade Centeriin kello 8. 46 paikallista aikaa. Iskuhetkellä Windows on the Worldissa oli käynnissä vakituinen aamiaistarjoilu ja Risk Waters Financial Technology -yhtiön kongressi. Kaikki ravintolassa lentokoneen törmäyshetkellä olleet ihmiset selvisivät hengissä törmäyksestä, mutta menehtyivät myöhemmin rakennuksen tulipaloihin. Yksi syy siihen, ettei kukaan ravintolassa olija selvinnyt, oli kaikkien uloskäyntien tuhotuminen iskussa. Osa asiakkaista ja henkilökunnasta menehtyi savumyrkytykseen, ja jotkut tekivät itsemurhan hyppäämällä rakennuksesta pakoon leviäviä tulipaloja. Loput, tulipaloista hengissä selvinneet, saivat surmansa kello 10. 28, 102 minuuttia lentokoneen iskeytymisen jälkeen, kun One World Trade Center sortui. Iskuhetkellä ravintolassa oli töissä 72 henkilökunnan jäsentä (joista yksi oli Christine Olender, ravintolan aamuvuorossa ollut esimies, jonka epätoivoiset puhelinsoitot viranomaisille olivat viimeiset Windows on the Worldista saadut viestit), 16 Risk Waters -yhtiön työntekijää ja 76 muuta asiakasta. Viimeiset ihmiset, jotka lähtivät ravintolasta ennen iskua, olivat Michael Nestor, Liz Thompson ja Geoffrey Wharton. He lähtivät vain kaksi minuuttia ennen törmäystä kello 8. 44. [4] Perintö [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Syyskuun iskujen jälkeen perustettiin Windows of Hope Family Relief Fund -niminen rahasto, jonka tarkoituksena on tarjota tukea ja palveluja perheille, jotka menettivät Windows on the Worldissa työskennelleen omaisensa iskuissa. Rahaston perustajien joukossa olivat muun muassa ravintolan pääkokki Michael Lomonaco ja omistaja David Emil. One World Trade Centeriin suunniteltiin Windows on the Worldin uudelleenavaamista; suunnitelma kuitenkin keskeytettiin maaliskuussa 2011 taloushuolien ja pienen kiinnostuksen takia. Vuonna 2006 joukko Windows on the Worldin entistä henkilökuntaa perusti New Yorkiin Colors-nimisen ravintolan, jonka tarkoituksena on kunnioittaa iskuissa kuolleita työtovereita. Ravintolan ruokalistassa on yhtäläisyyksiä Windows on the Worldin ruokalistaan. [5] Katso myös [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] World Trade Center (New York) Syyskuun 11. päivän iskut Lähteet [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Aiheesta muualla [ muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Windows on the Worldin virallinen sivusto Internet-arkistossa vuodelta 1999 (englanniksi) Colors-ravintolan esittely (englanniksi)
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My heart goes out to you all. Heartbreaking 💔. Watch stream windows on the world map. And akhenaten not Moses. it's true. Watch Stream Windows on the world of warcraft. Watch stream windows on the world free. Me too i never got to visit it, in fact during the time that it stood there i completley forgot about it, i never thought about it until it the incident happened and it was gone, now im showing in an interest and always going on youtube and looking at what was once there wishing i had visited it when it was still there and regreting never being there. YouTube. Another excellent education... If My IQ were 75, I figure You're responsible for at least 20 points... thanks so much. Watch stream windows on the world today. Watch stream windows on the world lyrics. Windows Series X.

The window washing platforms where on tracks on the side of the old World Trade Center so that could not happen they need to do something like that again. Truly interesting subject but this guy, Ahmed Osman, is so difficult for me to listen to. His broken English, false starts, um's, ah's and accent are distracting and motivating me to buy his book. Are there any other good videos on this subject with a speaker who speaks English as a first language. Watch Stream Windows on the world in 80. Your timeline is messed up.  Moses led Israel out of Egypt in 1446 B.C.  Akhenaten never became pharaoh until about eighty years after the fact.  By that point, Moses had already died and Joshua had completed the conquest of Canaan.

Watch stream windows on the world 2017. This break my heart whenever I watch! 💔😭❤️🙏🏾 God bless America 🇺🇸. Watch stream windows on the world 7. If you booked dinner at Windows on the World between 1981 and 1993, you probably spoke to Deborah Rodi on the telephone. Known to all as Deb, she managed reservations at the restaurant, which was perched on the hundred-and-seventh floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Windows on the World was part of a little gang of night spots high in the North Tower. There was the Greatest Bar on Earth and another restaurant called Wild Blue. At Windows on the World, the tables bore white tablecloths and little vases, each with a single flower. Men had to wear jackets or they could not take their tables. Finance was transforming the country and taking over the city—Deb watched nineteen-eighties New York decide on its identity. She remembers Grace Kelly and Andy Warhol coming in. She remembers the day, in 1983, when she didn’t ask the maître d’ whether his purple swelling was Kaposi’s sarcoma, because she didn’t want to offend him and she had only learned about the AIDS virus that morning. She was twenty-three years old when she started the job, and commuted to work from Jersey City. There were unsettling aspects to working so high up. The hanging plants in Deb’s office, one floor down, swung around as wind buffeted the skyscraper. Deb remembers a co-worker named Gerald, who would eavesdrop, she says, on other building workers, and once heard them talking about small, unchecked fires in the Trade Center’s two buildings. “Something is going to happen here one day, ” he told her. During the twelve years when she worked at the restaurant, she took home a variety of objects, in an absent-minded, memento officii sort of way. Now some of those objects are on display: the young artist Rose Salane has curated a selection of Deb’s past for a show at Company Gallery on Eldridge Street. Salane met Deb after bidding on a postcard from Windows on the World that Deb was selling online. (The show is titled “Indigo237, ” after Deb’s eBay account. ) Deb, curious whether Salane had some connection to the restaurant, wrote her an inquisitive message, and they began a correspondence. In addition to the objects Deb collected, the show includes fictional newspaper articles that report scenes from Deb’s memories. In an article titled “How to Cut a Cigar 1991, ” we read about Deb idly playing with a cigar guillotine during a safety meeting, as employees are taught how to recognize a bomb disguised as a pack of Marlboros. They don’t even sell American cigarettes here, Deb thinks, as the meeting drags on. Then a man named Bill asks Deb to show her colleagues how to cut cigars for their customers. “How to Cut a Cigar”: inkjet on newsprint, silver cigar cutter from Windows on the World (2018). Photograph Courtesy Rose Salane / Carlos/Ishikawa Gallery “WOW93”: inkjet on newsprint, playing cards from Windows on the World (2018). Photograph Courtesy Rose Salane / Carlos/Ishikawa Gallery The cigar clipper is in the show, along with a salt cellar, a dish, and Deb’s business card. There’s a promotional postcard that is illustrated with one of the elegant tables that filled the restaurant, a little, spotlit corner of intimacy against the vast darkness outside the high window. Salane has also sculpted objects based on restaurant equipment, and included several pictures taken by Deb, who is a keen photographer, and carried a camera to work with her often. (She wanted to go to art school but never did. ) In one picture, we see employees temporarily working as security personnel, in 1993, after a man named Eyad Ismoil detonated a massive truck bomb in the parking garage below the North Tower. Six people died, and hundreds were injured. Employees had the option to work security, as temps, until the restaurant was back up and running, or to take unemployment. Another photograph is a simple shot out of the window. After the 1993 bombing, Deb quit her job, afraid to keep working in a place that was a target. Salane was just a toddler at the time; she was born in Queens in the early nineties. The towers loomed over her childhood, like twin totems of the big city. She told me, when we met at her studio, near the Sumner Houses in Brooklyn, that she was “not actually so interested in 9/11. ” Instead, she’s interested in the years that 9/11 has occluded, with the backward shadow that it casts on history. (The plane that hit the North Tower struck well below Windows on the World; the seventy-three employees and eighty-seven conference attendees who were in the restaurant at the time were all killed in the attack. ) For Salane, the World Trade Center is a symbol of the whirlwind of capital that began buffeting New Yorkers in the nineteen-eighties. As the Reagan White House deregulated U. S. markets, and the Koch administration cut New York City taxes, the Financial District thrived. Meanwhile, the AIDS crisis went unaddressed, and Nancy Reagan’s war on drugs incarcerated thousands of New Yorkers. George Bush and Mikhail Gorbachev, 1990. Photograph by Deborah Rodi / Rose Salane And there in the middle of it all was Deb, one young woman in her watchtower. Looking at the little objects that she brought home from work, against the backdrop of those giant buildings, the scale of this history becomes overwhelming. The history of the Twin Towers is about a decisive change in the political course of the world; it’s also about a salt cellar with a soft burnish to its exterior. It’s about a cigar clipper held in the hand of a rich man. It’s about New Yorkers who died of AIDS, and New Yorkers who were killed by terrorists. It’s a young woman looking out the window of a tall building. It’s a plant that cannot stay still, because the whole place is swaying. Everything in Salane and Rodi’s show, whether it’s a postcard or a memory, is the opposite of a skyscraper. These objects, in their smallness and particularity, resist the enormous scale of September 11th and insist on the everyday lives and labors of individual people. As Salane writes in her show notes, the exhibition “seeks to enter history through the pedestrian entrance. ” She and Rodi have created a venue and a frame for old narratives to come forward, and to look us in our contemporary eyes.

Watch stream windows on the world youtube. Watch stream windows on the world online. 1999 i was there i think it was the 113 floor. I got the receip from the Sushi dinner in my photo Album. My God when i remember that such persons are dead. The Barkeeper the Sushi chef the garcon. Vers sad. God give Theiß soul peace. Monday, September 10, was looking to be a miserable day, with torrential rain and wind. The day before, Australian tennis upstart Lleyton Hewitt had aced American Pete Sampras, and, on Saturday, Venus Williams had beaten her sister Serena in the finals of the US Open. But the city was looking forward, waking up to the first full week of school and the next day’s mayoral primary election, in which Public Advocate Mark Green was in a heated race with Bronx Borough President Freddy Ferrer for the Democratic ticket, and the few Republicans in the city were entertaining the prospect of financial services billionaire and political newbie Michael Bloomberg as mayor of New York. Green, Ferrer, and Bloomberg raced around the city, shaking hands and slapping high fives with New Yorkers while their staffers and volunteers filled crowds, waved signs, and shouted slogans. About 20, 000 people were getting excited to see the second Michael Jackson show at Madison Square Garden that night; the king of pop was mounting a comeback, and the show was rumored to include a galaxy of special guests after his Friday-night concert, in which Marlon Brando, Whitney Houston, Britney Spears, and Elizabeth Taylor, among others, performed or spoke. A different sort of congregation gathered at the morning rededication of fire station Engine 73, Ladder 42 in the Bronx, where Mayor Giuliani cut a ribbon and said a few words. Before the mayor spoke, Father Mychal Judge, a fire department chaplain, gave a homily. “Good days. And bad days. Up days. Down days. Sad days. Happy days. But never a boring day on this job, ” Judge said, moving gently in a white frock among the firefighters and their families. Most just knew him as Father Mychal, but Judge was pretty unusual, a gay recovering alcoholic who had lovingly administered to a more diverse set of New Yorkers than perhaps anyone else wearing the cloth. He was typically affective that morning. “You  get on the rig and you go out and you do the job, which is a mystery. And a surprise. You have no idea when you get on that rig. No matter how big the call. No matter how small. You have no idea what God is calling you to. ” Article continues after advertisement In the World Trade Center plaza, dancers were doing a run-through of the performance they’d be giving the next day on the Evening Stars stage that had been set up at the foot of the North Tower, facing the Sphere, the 25-foot-tall golden globe sculpture that had anchored the plaza since it was opened in 1971. The performance was the end to the World Trade Center’s free summer outdoor entertainment schedule, which had featured acts including Celtic dancing, Odetta, and Herman’s Hermits. But the dance rehearsal was called off when the sky unloaded buckets of rain. Downtown, at Windows, a new beverage manager, Steve Adams, had just been promoted and was working his first day while the beverage director, Inez Holderness, was home in North Carolina for her sister’s wedding. Adams was a devotee of English ritualistic Morris dancing and came from a small wine store in Vermont and had finally, at 51 years old, found a foothold on a career path he was proud of. He had always been the guy who was passed over. Now, here he was, entrusted to run the stocking and distribution of the wines and other beverages for the top-grossing restaurant in the world. Managers were expecting a light night because it was a Monday and it had been raining buckets throughout the day. Lunch service was pretty quiet: several dozen guests. Captain and sommelier Paulo Villela broke down the buffet table—the same one that Joe Baum had Warren Platner design in 1976—with his supervisor Doris Eng. The two placed the trays of salads and shrimp and breads on enormous Queen Marys, the stainless steel, multi-shelved banquet carts that roll on wheels. A lot of the food was thrown out, but staff made plates of the good stuff for themselves to eat later. Villela had been a manager at a restaurant on the Upper East Side, but he applied for a captain position at Windows in 1996. There wasn’t one available, so he came back several times until he was offered a newly created position, a cross between a busser and runner. Villela took it. Closer to midnight, a few parties were unwilling to let the night end. He quickly moved up to being a captain and had been spending his time off working in the cellar and taking wine courses until he became a sommelier. He was making 130, 000 dollars a year. And Villela’s 19-year-old son, Bernardo, joined him at Windows as an assistant cellar master. Article continues after advertisement As Villela and Eng, with a couple of busboys, moved the food to the Queen Marys, they joked about her role as a manager and how he used to be one. Eng said that, to Chinese people, being a server was the highest place one could rise to before going to heaven. The conversation continued into her office. General manager Glenn Vogt had been in a two-hour meeting with David Emil, restaurant comptroller Howard Kane, and a few others to discuss Windows’ New Year’s Eve party. It was the first meeting, so it wasn’t stressful, more exciting to be brainstorming what they hoped to do that year. After the meeting, Vogt went to the office he shared with assistant general manager Christine Olender to review what had been said. Michael Lomonaco wandered by and mentioned that he needed his glasses fixed but that his opthamologist was out of town. Lomonaco was going on a trip to Italy soon. Chefs can be obsessive list-makers. He wanted to get the glasses checked off his list, so he made an appointment at the LensCrafters in the concourse downstairs for noon the  next day. Lomonaco had just returned from shooting Epicurious for the Travel Channel the week before. He was getting up to speed for the busy autumn season of events and weddings, drawing up the new fall menus, and hiring people, one of the most important being a replacement for his executive pastry chef, Heather Ho, who had given her notice in August. Ho had just started in June, but she didn’t like working at Windows. On that Monday, Ho talked on the phone with her best friend from high school. “I don’t know when I am going to get out of here, ” she said. “I have to wait. I can’t burn any bridges. ” Vogt had a meeting with Paulo Villela, because the manager wasn’t happy with the number of hours Villela had been clocking. Ninety-four hours in the last week was way too much overtime. But Inez Holderness was away, and she’d asked Villela to help. Villela had come in early that morning, he was going to work late that night, and he planned to come in the next morning to help Steve Adams, the new beverage manager, in the wine cellar. O’Neill had had his FBI retirement party at Windows. That night, he told a friend that a terrorist attack was coming soon. “If you don’t want me to work so many hours, I won’t work tonight, ” Villela said angrily before storming out of Vogt’s office. He told Bernardo that he should not come to work the next morning either. It was, after all, Villela’s younger son, Felipe’s, eleventh birthday; they could see him before he went to school and then go to work in the evening. The office day was wrapping up, and Olender headed over to the cubicle of Doris Eng, the Club manager; they were both single women living in the big city and were equally devoted to their parents. Eng lived with her mother in Flushing, Queens. And Olender was on the phone practically every day with her parents back in Chicago. The two had gone on vacations together and had recently celebrated Eng’s 30th birthday. Both women were tough, even if Olender was a girly-girl who wore fancy, impractical shoes. She was Vogt’s gatekeeper, so if you needed him to sign off on something, she was your best friend. But when Vogt wasn’t around, Olender was in charge, and the staff respected her. Eng wore a jade-pig necklace—she was born in the year of the pig—and practical shoes, because she stood all day and her feet often hurt. Eng had a wry sense of humor, would joke about “the Asian way, ” and would sometimes laugh about the most inappropriate things. That day, she was looking online at shoes to buy. Olender ribbed her about the shoes she had selected. Both women came to work early and left at around five in the evening. Eng could often be at her desk as early as 6 am getting ready for the opening of the club breakfast. Because of the construction on the new wine cellar and bar, breakfast was being served in Wild Blue. Everything was a little out of sync, so Eng asked Villela if he could help her with breakfast, but he was leaving the building in a huff and said he couldn’t. Olender offered to help Eng with the morning setup before Olender had a meeting with Vogt at nine. Jules Roinnel surprised them with the news that he wasn’t going to be coming in for pre-meal. You could count on two hands the number of times in the past two decades that he had worked dinner, but he had been upstairs on 107, where restaurant director Melissa Trumbull had asked him to work with her during Tuesday evening’s service. “I have no one on the floor with me, ” she said. “Come on, why don’t you work it? You can have the floor or the door. And we can have dinner together. I’ll even let you pick out the wine. ” Trumbull often teased Roinnel about his wine choices. He accepted her offer and said he’d take the door—an easier gig—and looked forward to the next day. With only 240 reservations registered for the night, it should be manageable. “I’ll see you at 3:30, ” Roinnel said to Eng and Olender, leaving at 5 pm. Dinner service began at the usual five. Despite it being a Monday and there being limited visibility, more people than expected were coming for dinner. The waiters were feeling good; for some reason, almost every table was ordering wine or champagne, some of it on the higher price end, so the money would be good. In the Greatest Bar, in the SkyBox lounge, George Delgado was hosting, with Dale DeGroff, a Spirits in the Sky cocktail seminar, a monthly event in which the two spoke and demonstrated for a gathering of about a dozen people who dropped $35 each for the educational merriment of mixing cocktails and drinking. Tequila was the focus that night. DeGroff was doing the gig to fulfill a contract obligation to Emil, for whom he worked at the Rainbow Room. DeGroff signed off on what was probably the last bill of the night, well north of a thousand dollars. Delgado’s day had started badly; his car battery had died that morning after he’d driven through the torrential rain, so he had to drop 50 bucks to take a taxi to work, all the way from Hackensack, New Jersey. The class began at 6 pm, but Delgado came in about three hours before to set up each student’s station at long, classroom-style tables, where he carefully placed the shaker kit, garnishes, juices, salt, ice buckets, and a selection of tequilas that each student would get to taste. Delgado and DeGroff took turns demonstrating their mixology skills and telling stories, with DeGroff leading the classic margarita instruction and Delgado teaching the class how to make two of his own Greatest Bar tequila specialties, La Rumba and the spicy Bendito Loco. Also at the Greatest Bar that night, the new head of World Trade Center security, John O’Neill, was having a drink before heading to his favorite watering hole, Elaine’s, where writers and cops mingled with celebrities. O’Neill had recently retired from the FBI, where he had been the Bureau’s counterterrorism chief in Washington, DC, and was instrumental in the capture of the 1993 World Trade Center bomber Ramzi Yousef. O’Neill had had his FBI retirement party at Windows. He was just a few weeks into the much-better-paying job. “We’re due, ” he said. “And we’re due for something big. ” By 9 pm the sky had cleared, leaving the city wet-slicked and vivid. Closer to midnight, a few parties were unwilling to let the night end. A couple of tables for two lingered, savoring the views. Waiter Carlos Medina was taking care of two Italian newlyweds at table number 64, facing due north. When it was time to pay the check, their credit card was denied, which wasn’t unusual for international cards. Medina offered to escort the new husband, who had invited him to visit his cheese factory back home, to the Citibank ATM in the concourse. They went all the way down and back up. “What a beautiful building, ” the Italian said. But when he laid out the cash, he realized he didn’t have enough dollars for the tip. He gave Medina and his coworkers 150, 000 lira (70 dollars) instead. Captain Luis Feglia tried to adhere to the “legendary service” code that Ron Blanchard preached, so he let his guests linger. As captain, “Papi” had the discretion to tell the front and back waiters in his team to go home, so it was just he and one busboy, Telmo Alvear, who remained. Twenty-five-year-old Alvear, who had a one year-old son and whose wife was studying computerized accounting, often heard from Feglia how he should pick up as many shifts as possible to make more money. As a teen, he had immigrated from Ecuador, and just that summer he had quit a midtown waiting job to work at Windows, where the tips were better. Alvear had added a shift for the next morning, taking another staffer’s spot. After the guests finally called for the check, Feglia and Alvear changed in the locker room and went down to take the E train to Queens. As shop steward, Feglia was coming in the next day for a ten am meeting, and Alvear would have to sleep quickly; he was expected back in six hours. After they left, the night still wasn’t over on the 107th floor. In the bar, in the booths outside the SkyBox, DeGroff and Delgado were entertaining their students with some extra credit after the class had ended at seven thirty. One of the women students was enthralled by the music DJ Penelope Tuesdae was playing, and so they decided to stay for dinner. They had ordered small dishes, and DeGroff had ordered bottle after bottle of Veuve Clicquot for the group, tickled to be sticking Emil with the bill. After one o’clock, Delgado suddenly remembered he didn’t have his car. It would have cost a small fortune to take another taxi back home, so he called his wife, Fran, a fellow bartender he had met working at the Greatest Bar but who no longer worked there, and asked her to put their 11-month-old baby, Genevieve, into the car seat and to take the hour-long drive to get him. About eight people were still in their party until DeGroff asked for the check. He signed off on what was probably the last bill of the night, well north of a thousand dollars. When Fran arrived in her Volkswagen Beetle, Delgado headed out. He saw the cleaning crews arriving and gave the security guard, Mo, short for Mohammed, a half-handshake, half-backslap on his way out before taking the elevator down to meet his family on West Street. The baby was awake, so he took her out of the car and held her in his arms and raised her slightly so that she faced the World Trade Center buildings. “Look, Genevieve, ” Delgado said, gazing at the reflection of light in her big brown eyes. “That’s where Daddy works, way up there. ” ____________________________________ From The Most  Spectacular   Restaurant in the World by Tom Roston, published by Abrams Books © 2019.

@ 46:48 How we have wonderful laws I have a suspicion that Mark will be too busy to interview Edmund again, any time soon... Watch stream windows on the world video. 7:03 is that the second plane at the top behind the smoke. These mud flood videos that have appeared this last year, make for interesting viewing + the work of formenko is especially interesting. Watch stream windows on the world movie. Windows on the World Restaurant information Established April 19, 1976 Closed September 11, 2001 (destroyed in September 11 attacks) Previous owner(s) David Emil Head chef Michael Lomonaco Street address 1 World Trade Center, 107th Floor, Manhattan, New York City, NY, U. S. City New York City, New York Postal/ZIP Code 10048 Country United States of America Seating capacity 240 Website Windows on the World was a complex of venues on the top floors (106th and 107th) of the North Tower (Building One) of the original World Trade Center complex in Lower Manhattan. It included a restaurant called Windows on the World, a smaller restaurant called Wild Blue, a bar called The Greatest Bar on Earth, and rooms for private functions. Developed by restaurateur Joe Baum and designed initially by Warren Platner, Windows on the World occupied 50, 000 square feet (4, 600 m²) of space in the North Tower. The restaurants opened on April 19, 1976, and were destroyed in the September 11, 2001, attacks. [1] Operations [ edit] Interior of Windows on the World on November 4, 1999 The main dining room faced north and east, allowing guests to look out onto the skyline of Manhattan. The dress code required jackets for men and was strictly enforced; a man who arrived with a reservation but without a jacket was seated at the bar. The restaurant offered jackets that were loaned to the patrons so they could eat in the main dining room. [2] A more intimate dining room, Wild Blue, was located on the south side of the restaurant. The bar extended along the south side of 1 World Trade Center as well as the corner over part of the east side. Looking out from the bar through the full length windows, one could see views of the southern tip of Manhattan, where the Hudson and East Rivers meet. In addition, one could see the Liberty State Park with Ellis Island and Staten Island with the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. The kitchens, utility and conference spaces for the restaurant were located on the 106th floor. Windows on the World closed after the 1993 bombing, in which employee Wilfredo Mercado was killed while checking in deliveries in the building's underground garage. It underwent a US$25 million renovation and reopened in 1996. [3] [4] In 2000, its final full year of operation, it reported revenues of US$37 million, making it the highest-grossing restaurant in the United States. [5] The executive chefs of Windows on the World included Philippe Feret of Brasserie Julien; the last chef was Michael Lomonaco. September 11 attacks [ edit] Windows on the World was destroyed when the North Tower collapsed during the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. That morning, the restaurant was hosting regular breakfast patrons and the Risk Waters Financial Technology Congress. [6] World Trade Center lessor Larry Silverstein was regularly holding breakfast meetings in Windows on the World with tenants as part of his recent acquisition of the Twin Towers from the Port Authority, and was scheduled to be in the restaurant on the morning of the attacks. However, his wife insisted he go to a dermatologist's appointment that morning, [7] whereby he avoided death. Everyone present in the restaurant when American Airlines Flight 11 penetrated the North Tower perished that day, as all means of escape and evacuation (including the stairwells and elevators leading to below the impact zone) were instantly cut off. Victims trapped in Windows on the World died either from smoke inhalation from the fire, jumping or falling from the building to their deaths, or the eventual collapse of the North Tower 102 minutes later. There were 72 restaurant staff present in the restaurant, including acting manager Christine Anne Olender, whose desperate calls to Port Authority police represented the restaurant's final communications. [8] 16 Incisive Media -Risk Waters Group employees, and 76 other guests/contractors were also present. [9] After about 9:40 AM, no further distress calls from the restaurant were made. The last people to leave the restaurant before Flight 11 collided with the North Tower at 8:46 AM were Michael Nestor, Liz Thompson, Geoffrey Wharton, and Richard Tierney. They departed at 8:44 AM and survived the attack. [10] Critical review [ edit] In its last iteration, Windows on the World received mixed reviews. Ruth Reichl, a New York Times food critic, said in December 1996 that "nobody will ever go to Windows on the World just to eat, but even the fussiest food person can now be content dining at one of New York's favorite tourist destinations. " She gave the restaurant two out of four stars, signifying a "very good" quality rather than "excellent" (three stars) or "extraordinary" (four stars). [11] In his 2009 book Appetite, William Grimes wrote that "At Windows, New York was the main course. " [12] In 2014, Ryan Sutton of compared the now-destroyed restaurant's cuisine to that of its replacement, One World Observatory. He stated, "Windows helped usher in a new era of captive audience dining in that the restaurant was a destination in itself, rather than a lazy byproduct of the vital institution it resided in. " [13] Cultural impact and legacy [ edit] Windows of Hope Family Relief Fund was organized soon after the attacks to provide support and services to the families of those in the food, beverage, and hospitality industries who had been killed on September 11 in the World Trade Center. Windows on the World executive chef Michael Lomonaco and owner-operator David Emil were among the founders of that fund. It has been speculated that The Falling Man, a famous photograph of a man dressed in white falling headfirst on September 11, was an employee at Windows on the World. Although his identity has never been conclusively established, he was believed to be Jonathan Briley, an audio technician at the restaurant. [14] On March 30, 2005, the novel Windows on the World, by Frédéric Beigbeder, was released. The novel focuses on two brothers, aged 7 and 9 years, who are in the restaurant with their dad Carthew Yorsten. The novel starts at 8:29 AM (just before the plane hits the tower) and tells about every event on every following minute, ending at 10:30 AM, just after the collapse. Published in 2012, Kenneth Womack 's novel The Restaurant at the End of the World offers a fictive recreation of the lives of the staff and visitors at the Windows on the World complex on the morning of September 11. On January 4, 2006, a number of former Windows on the World staff opened Colors, a co-operative restaurant in Manhattan that serves as a tribute to their colleagues and whose menu reflects the diversity of the former Windows' staff. That original restaurant closed, but its founders' umbrella organization, Restaurant Opportunities Centers United, continues its mission, including at Colors restaurants in New York and other cities. Windows on the World was planned to reopen on the top floors of the new One World Trade Center, when the tower completed; however, on March 7, 2011, it was cancelled because of cost concerns and other troubles finding support for the project. [15] But successors of Windows on the World, One Dine, One Mix and One Cafe, are located at One World Observatory. [16] See also [ edit] List of tenants in One World Trade Center Top of the World Trade Center Observatories References [ edit] ^ "Trade Center to Let Public In for Lunch At Roof Restaurant". New York Times. April 16, 1976. Retrieved October 15, 2009. ^ Chong, Ping. The East/West Quartet. p. 143. ^ "New Windows on a New World;Can the Food Ever Match the View? ". The New York Times. June 19, 1996. Retrieved May 18, 2018. ^ "Windows That Rose So Close To the Sun". September 19, 2001. Retrieved May 18, 2018. ^ The Wine News Magazine Archived 2012-02-20 at the Wayback Machine ^ "Risk Waters Group World Trade Center Appeal". ^ "Larry Silverstein: Silverstein Properties". New York Observer. Archived from the original on October 2, 2013. Retrieved April 2, 2013. ^ " ' We need to find a safe haven, ' WTC restaurant manager pleads". USA Today. August 28, 2003. Archived from the original on October 23, 2012. Retrieved June 26, 2014. ^ "Risk Waters Group archived home page". Archived from the original on August 2, 2002. ^ "9/11: Distant voices, still lives (part one)". The Guardian. London. August 18, 2002. Retrieved September 17, 2015. ^ Reichl, Ruth (December 31, 1997). "Restaurants; Food That's Nearly Worthy of the View". ISSN   0362-4331. Retrieved February 22, 2018. ^ Grimes, William (October 13, 2009). Appetite City: A Culinary History of New York. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. p. 281. ISBN   978-1-42999-027-1. ^ Sutton, Ryan (June 30, 2015). "Everything You Need to Know About Dining at One World Trade". Eater NY. Retrieved February 22, 2018. ^ Henry Singer (director) (2006). 9/11: The Falling Man (Documentary). Channel 4. ^ Feiden, Douglas (March 7, 2011). "Plans to build new version of Windows on the World at top of Freedom Tower are scrapped". Daily News. New York. ^ "One Dine". One World Observatory. External links [ edit] Windows on the World (Archive) Archived snapshot of the former WotW website, August 2, 2002 Last pre-9/11 archived snapshot of the former WotW website, February 1, 2001 v t e World Trade Center First WTC (1973–2001) Construction Towers 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Windows on the World Mall The Bathtub Tenants Art Bent Propeller The Sphere The World Trade Center Tapestry World Trade Center Plaza Sculpture Ideogram Sky Gate, New York Major events February 13, 1975, fire February 26, 1993, bombing January 14, 1998, robbery September 11, 2001, attacks Collapse Timeline Victims Aftermath Rescue and recovery effort NIST report on collapse Deutsche Bank Building St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church Second WTC (2001–present) Site, towers, and structures One Performing Arts Center Vehicular Security Center Liberty Park Westfield Mall Artwork ( ONE: Union of the Senses) Rapid transit PATH stations Transportation Hub New York City Subway stations Chambers Street–WTC/Park Place/Cortlandt Street ( 2, ​ 3 ​, A, ​ C, ​ E ​, ​ N, ​ R, and ​ W trains) WTC Cortlandt ( 1 train) Fulton Street ( 2, ​ 3 ​, 4, ​ 5 ​, A, ​ C ​, J, and ​ Z trains) Fulton Center Corbin Building Dey Street Passageway 9/11 memorials 9/11 Tribute Museum National September 11 Memorial & Museum Competition Memory Foundations Tribute in Light America's Response Monument Empty Sky To the Struggle Against World Terrorism Postcards memorial The Rising memorial Relics from original WTC Cross Survivors' Staircase People Minoru Yamasaki Emery Roth & Sons Larry Silverstein Austin J. Tobin David Childs Michael Arad THINK Team Daniel Libeskind Leslie E. Robertson Other Port Authority of New York and New Jersey Silverstein Properties Park51 Project Rebirth Take Back The Memorial West Street pedestrian bridges In popular culture Film Music 9/11-related media Featuring One WTC Silver dollar 10048 ZIP code Former: IFC Former: Twin Towers 2 Brookfield Place 200 Liberty Street 225 Liberty Street 200 Vesey Street 250 Vesey Street Winter Garden Atrium New York Mercantile Exchange.

Watch stream windows on the world 1. The layout was designed to give guests a sense of privacy despite the 350-seat capacity of the restaurant. Photo Credit: Courtesy of Baum+Whiteman International Restaurant Consultants and Dennis Sweeney On Sept. 11, 2001, 79 workers lost their lives to the terrorist attack. The layout was designed to give guests a sense of privacy despite the 350-seat capacity of the restaurant. Photo Credit: NYPD In “The Most Spectacular Restaurant in the World” — a new soup-to-nuts history of Windows on the World — one bittersweet recollection involves cases of Champagne. The bubbly was to be served at the silver anniversary of the glorious dining destination atop the North Tower of the World Trade Center, where guests ascended to feast, particularly on the jaw-dropping views of Manhattan and beyond. “The restaurant was going to celebrate its twenty-fifth anniversary with a big event, ” author Tom Roston writes, with “500 cases of Veuve Clicquot, specially bottled for the restaurant…” The labels for the occasion read: WINDOWS ON THE WORLD, 1976-2001. In retrospect, the words send an eerie chill. Guy Tozzoli, center, who oversaw construction of the World Trade Center, enjoys a meal at Windows on the World in 1976. Serving Tozzoli and his guest is Captain Claudette Fournier. Photo Credit: Claudette Fournier “The party never happened, of course, ” Roston tells amNewYork. “The bottles survived. ” On 9/11, 79 workers at Windows on the World did not survive, lives lost to the terrorist attack. Roston’s crisply written, deeply researched work opens a wide window to the famous sky-high eatery, reaching back to its conception, while simultaneously taking stock of what the restaurant meant to New York City. “It’s not necessarily a 9/11 book, but Windows on the World attains this beyond-iconic status because of the tragic way it ended, ” says life-long New Yorker Roston, who was a kid on the Upper West Side when Windows opened in 1976. “I wanted to tell the story of an incredible restaurant. ” And he does, starting with its visionary creator Joe Baum, of Four Seasons fame, a “celebrated restaurateur who was said to be the only man who could outspend an unlimited budget, ” according to the book. The book recalls and interviews a who’s who of foodies. When Windows on the World — a complex of venues on the top two floors (106th and 107th) — opened on April 19, 1976, the price tag was a soaring $14 million, Roston reports. It wasn’t a time to think small, says one restaurant insider. “Windows was so successful in so many ways, ” says New York- and Los Angeles-based restaurant consultant Clark Wolf. “It was all about the wow, and without question, that was necessary at the time. “New York was in bad shape in the 1970s, ” Wolf adds. “To turn that around wouldn’t take small steps. It was going to take something big. Windows was big. And glitzy. And sparkly. And it worked hard to stay big. ” High in the sky, the restaurant became a shining symbol of how NYC could rise — even during the ’70s, when the city was infested by crime, filth and lousy leadership. In short order, the restaurant became a magnet for power players of every stripe — business, politics, showbiz. Among the celebrity sightings: Mick Jagger, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Andy Warhol and Cher, writes Roston, who considers an anecdote involving the tongue-wagging rockers of KISS a telling favorite. They were shown the door after doodling on a table cloth. “That defines Windows on the World, ” says Roston. “From the top down, details mattered, whether it was the lightness of the croissants or the pristine table cloths. ” Mere mortals, not just celebs, made Windows their celebration destination — for birthdays, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs. And even if the food — which evolved from baroque dishes like aspic to farm-to-table fresh ingredients over the restaurant’s life — didn’t always ascend to the splendor of the cloud-hugging views, it was always an experience. “Restaurants have their own personality, ” says chef and restaurateur Michael Lomonaco, a former cab driver-turned a-list chef who stepped up to the stove and turned around the Windows kitchen in the late ‘90s and, thanks to running a personal errand, eluded death on 9/11. “Restaurants are a living thing made up of all of the people who bring it to life every day, ” adds Lomonaco, currently chef-partner at Porter House Bar and Grill and Hudson Yards Grill. “And that includes the guests. Windows drew people from around the world to the top of the greatest city in the world. “The story of Windows on the World takes us through some of the best and worst days in New York, ” he continues. “And the worst day our nation will ever see. I’m very happy that someone  has realized the impact that Windows had on New York City. ” Eighteen years after 9/11, Roston says whenever he “looks at the bottom of Manhattan, ” he sees “the absence. It’s so important not to forget. Not just how `it all ended but what happened before — and after. The story of Windows on the World is, to me, ” he adds, “the story of how New York endures. ” Author Tom Roston will discuss his book on Sept. 16 at Rizzoli Bookstore, 1133 Broadway from 6-8 PM.

Windows on the World, despite the fact that it takes place in the weeks following the 9/11 terrorist attack in New York, is a film that is urgently for our time. It is a hero's journey of a son trying to find his father in that grief-stricken landscape and the characters stand in for the millions of immigrants, legal and illegal, who contribute in their everyday lives, to the American landscape. The film seeks to counter the narrative that's all-too-prevalent in today's political and media landscape by telling a story set in America's biggest and most diverse city, at its darkest time. The script by playwright and novelist Robert Mailer Anderson (who also produced the film) is wise and completely engaging; he creates indelible characters who are ultimately inspiring and uplifting. Edward James Olmos gives what he considers to be the performance of a lifetime, and the rest of the cast is terrific as well-with a special shout-out to Glynn Turman. The direction, by Olmos's son Michael, is sure-handed, getting terrific performances from his cast, including his father, in this father-son story, and it's beautifully lensed. The music, including jazz and a title track written by Anderson, is pitch-perfect, supporting the story without getting in the way. This film should be seen by everybody-and I'm sure it will be in mainstream distribution soon, as this is a time when, although the major studios may have turned their backs on substance, terrific indie films like this one have many other possible venues. If you can't see it at a film festival, like I did, keep a keen eye out for it. Terrific and inspiring.

 

I agree. Originally published in the September 2011 issue. This story needed an ending before it could find its first sentence. So please forgive me for delivering it ten years overdue. Maybe it shouldn't have been so hard to write. Looking back, it had everything: merriment, adventure, and a journey to the top of the world. It contained a crash into ground zero on one of the darkest days in America's history and a search for fulfillment afterward. Yet for ten years, the words were trapped inside me and I couldn't get them out. We all know the feeling of wanting to do something so well and so badly that we try too hard and can't do it at all. In the end, though, there's no trick to being yourself. So I'm simply going to tell this story the way it happened. It started fourteen years ago, when a new editor was hired to guide Esquire. The magazine was in distress. You might find only a dozen pages of advertising in an issue, and most of them were pitching hair-replacement schemes and promises to resurrect lost sex drive. The new editor called upon a group of writers whom he'd assembled over the years to join him. He was on a mission to resurrect a great American magazine, and he wanted good ideas. One of mine was to become the Perfect Man. The concept was to identify the subjects every man should know, and then have experts in each field show me how to master them. I was certainly up for the task. The only reason I call myself the Perfect Man, I used to joke, is that I have so many flaws to correct. We all know the feeling of wanting to do something so well and so badly that we try too hard and can't do it at all. The idea turned into a monthly column, and what a blast it was. The legendary Jack LaLanne showed me how to get in shape and eat right. I learned how to project my voice from boxing announcer Michael Buffer; how to smoke ribs at the Jack Daniel's World Championship Invitational Barbecue; how to walk with grace from a Victoria's Secret model; how to prolong my orgasms from specialists in tantric sex. (My wife is eternally grateful. ) The last area I poked my nose into was wine. Wine makes a lot of men uncomfortable. It's not as if sweat would bubble above my upper lip every time a waiter handed me a wine list. But I always felt uncertain and small in those moments, especially if I was taking out a woman or hosting a group. It was much easier to crack open a beer and mock snooty wine drinkers for their full-bodied aromatic claptrap than it was to admit I didn't have a clue. But in wine, you pay for your ignorance. A haughty waiter can roll his eyes and make you feel smaller than a raisin. A fast-talking one can chump you into ordering a bottle that will launch the check into the stratosphere. Anyway, the editor generously sent me off to wine school to finalize my education in self-improvement. In return, I agreed to showcase what I learned by becoming the guy who recommends wine to diners at an upscale restaurant. The sommelier. Then I'd write a story that would show how, with a little effort, any man could feel comfortable around wine. The Windows on the World Wine School, the best in the city, was down the corridor from the famous restaurant by that name, at the top of the World Trade Center. The elevator took fifty-eight seconds to reach the 107th floor, and you could always tell who was taking the ride for the first time. Halfway up, everybody's stomach did the same sudden somersault, and the rookies would grasp in panic for support... and then return the smiles of the vets remembering their own first trip. The classroom was a ballroom filled with tables topped with columns of empty wineglasses. Everyone who entered wandered first to the long stretch of floor-to-ceiling windows. On a sunny day or moonlit night, the view of lower Manhattan from Windows on the World was like the first time you heard Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York. " It was amusing to look down at helicopters. Just thinking about the acrobat who once walked a three-quarter-inch steel cable between the tops of the Twin Towers made you wonder what wasn't possible. You had to hand it to the architect who envisioned that millions of people would travel millions of miles to dine some 1, 300 feet above sea level. For a time, no restaurant in the United States took in more money, and no restaurant on the planet sold more wine. Courtesy Kevin Zraly The guy who ran the wine school was, and still is, sort of a cross between a stand-up comic and Monty Hall from Let's Make a Deal. His name is Kevin Zraly. I could never describe all that Zraly passed on during this eight-week course in 1999. Time and a storm has eroded most of the memories. But a writer who prided himself on never keeping a diary once told me that "the good shit sticks. " Nine years later, I'm left with what stuck. So here's a story that gets to Zraly's core: As a young man, Kevin was interviewed by the legendary restaurateur Joe Baum for the position of cellar master at Windows. Baum's first question was "So, Kevin, what can you tell me about wine? " Now, that may appear to be a casual way to start an interview, but it's a terrifying question for an applicant who's depending on the answer to get a job. The question's too big. What possible answer is there? "I like to drink it, " Zraly replied. He knew how to shrink the complex to the simple—a good quality to have if you're going to introduce people to wine. For example, he'd point to the three major varieties of white wine—Riesling, sauvignon blanc, and chardonnay—and ask you to visualize them as skim milk, whole milk, and cream. Before you'd even tasted the wines, you had an idea of where they stood from light to heavy. Then he did the same for reds. Pinot noir: skim milk. Merlot: whole milk. Cabernet sauvignon: cream. With that information alone, you could go into a restaurant, order a thick sirloin, and know that it was wiser to muscle up to the steak with a hearty cabernet than a willowy Riesling. Classes passed quickly, and the wines that Zraly exposed us to began to work their magic. They encouraged us to go out and seek, to lose ourselves in a world that no one person could ever fully explore. In wine, you pay for your ignorance. The first day I got lost was a memorable one. April 20, 1999. When people who loved wine heard that I was attempting to become a sommelier, they immediately took me in as a long-lost brother. I had been invited to a wine-tasting lunch at the great restaurant Daniel, where eleven wines from Chateau Lagrange, in the French region of Bordeaux, were to be poured. One of the first things you need to know in order to function at a tasting is how to roll the wine around your mouth, spit it into a bucket, and define the flavors left behind. This allows you to discern the different styles and tastes without getting drunk. Unfortunately, novice that I was, I hadn't quite figured out how to spit and taste by the time of that lunch. So I drank all eleven glasses. Then, in a warm fog, I walked downtown to class at Windows on the World, where another dozen wines were poured, then drifted off to dinner with a winemaker, during which several more bottles were opened. It was like the best day of school you could imagine, when you also discover you have an enormous family that you never knew about. The Brotherhood of the Grape, someone called it. I learned, I laughed, I embraced. It was one of those days that end with you peeling off your clothes, lying down, and drifting off to sleep happy to be alive. And I did just that, completely oblivious to the fact that early that same day, twelve students and a teacher were gunned down at Columbine High School. Getty Images There's only one way to know which bottle of wine to order at a restaurant or buy for a friend: taste it. Problem is, how do you taste them all? Something like sixty-five hundred French wines alone can be purchased in the United States. Tens of thousands of labels are imported from Italy, Portugal, Spain, Germany, Hungary, Austria, New Zealand, South Africa, Greece, Argentina, and New Zealand. Wine is produced in all fifty states. Where would you start? There are good answers to this question. I was most impressed with the shortest: Vinexpo. Every other year in Bordeaux, winemakers from around the world pour their juice for more than fifty thousand buyers to sample. By brazenly promising to taste nearly every wine on the planet over a few short days, I wrangled some expense money from the editor and jetted off. My bravado evaporated the moment I stepped into the convention center and felt the bottom of my jaw dangling beneath my balls. I faced a hall that was—no exaggeration—a mile long and two football fields wide. I'm usually the type of guy who never says no unless you ask me if I've had enough. But this... was almost too much. I tasted, spit, and scribbled in a notepad as if I were one of the chosen few, the Jedi who could taste a wine blindfolded and tell you everything about it. But it wasn't long before I was lost in the maze. My first day would've ended without a memory of a single wine if I hadn't stumbled upon a man named Anthony Dias Blue. The pourers treated him as if he were a celebrity, because when Blue highlights a wine in the press, that label is elevated above tens of thousands of competitors. As I followed him around, I noticed that when certain pourers saw Blue, they reached under the table and pulled out bottles the rest of us weren't getting. I glued myself to his side and the pourers had no choice but to show good etiquette and fill my glass beside his. That was how I found out about La Turque, a wine made by Guigal in the Rhône region in France. Tasting a $400 wine when you've been cutting your teeth on $20 bottles will widen your eyes. But for me, this wine was bigger than that. La Turque opened my ears. It made me hear music. As I drank, Edith Piaf was singing "No Regrets" right out of that glass, and believe me, she was in her prime. That might sound a little loopy. But people have found crazier ways to describe the taste of wine. I've heard praise for the "barnyard odors" in a glass of burgundy. A sommelier once asked me if I had picked up "brussels sprouts" in the bouquet of a red wine from Chile. And a wine magazine editor once assured me that there was "a hint of Tasmanian black pepper" (my italics) in a glass of Shiraz. I could never get excited talking up brussels sprouts, and describing wine with adjectives like metallic, nutty, tart, floral, and woody just wasn't me. So I began to correlate wine with music, and to this day the melodies have stayed with me. As the months passed, I scribbled comparisons between wines and songs on scraps of paper constantly. I tossed these notes in a box along with pictures of some of the many wineries I visited when the opportunities arose and I could coax more expense money out of the editor. Ella Fitzgerald singing scat is wonderful champagne. Luciano Pavarotti is a great Barolo. Pick up a Robert Weil Riesling Auslese and you might hear Sade singing "The Sweetest Taboo. " I once observed a woman in a supermarket checkout line buying a couple of bottles of mass-market California merlot and asked her if, by chance, she happened to like the music of Barry Manilow. "I do, " she replied. "How did you know? " I once brought my wine-to-music theory to the home of Monte Lipman, chairman of Universal Republic Records, and it wasn't long before everyone was discovering Joe Jackson's voice in a glass of fine California chardonnay. Edith Piaf was singing "No Regrets" right out of that glass, and believe me, she was in her prime. The beauty of learning wine by music is that you're never ignorant. You have an opinion that's as good as anyone else's. If a sommelier brings you a wine list and you have no idea what to order, you can always say, "We'd like a bottle of Louie Armstrong singing 'What a Wonderful World. '" Suddenly, the pressure has been reversed. (He's right on track if he brings you a bottle of Lalou Bize-Leroy burgundy. ) Stick to the music and you'll never get bogged down in a conversation with some wine geek that includes the phrase malolactic fermentation. But there is some technique involved in tasting. You can help your ears tune in to the music by getting the most out of your nose and tongue. What you want to do is pick up your wineglass by the stem (not the bowl) and swirl. The air will turn up the volume on the aroma. There are chemical reasons for this, but maybe it's easier to understand by imagining yourself on a hot, listless day. In the distance there's a guy barbecuing, but he's too far away for you to see or smell a thing. If, however, a strong wind were to blow in your direction, your nostrils might twitch at the airborne molecules of 'cue. So stick your nose in that glass and inhale. But equally crucial are the taste buds aligning the insides of your mouth. Don't gulp the juice straight down—the flavors will zoom by. Let the wine coat the inside of your mouth before you swallow, and you'll soon be tuned in to the music. Whether you like a certain song is up to you. But if the bass in a song were so overpowering that it ran roughshod over the melody or the lyrics, everybody would know something was wrong. It's no different with wine. The winemaker is like a record producer looking for harmony and balance in flavor. The acidity in a glass of New Zealand sauvignon blanc should not squash the fruit. Nor should the tannins that come off red grape skins, the ones that bring a dry sensation to your palate, block out the fruit in a cabernet sauvignon. There are critics who score wines numerically, as if each bottle were a math test. But just as a song becomes magical when it coincides with a moment that has meaning in your life, a wine doesn't need ninety-seven points to be fantastic. Meet the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with and the $12 pinot noir you raised when you first looked into her eyes becomes priceless. The first night I was allowed to walk the floor as an apprentice sommelier at Windows on the World, I saw a three-hundred-pound man in his best suit get down on his knee in the middle of the dining room and propose to his fiancée. When she accepted and they embraced, there was applause all around. That's what made the place special. This was a restaurant that got a thousand calls for reservations each day, had twenty-five hundred chairs and seventy cooks. Seven hundred pounds of shrimp were served each week, and three thousand forks were washed each day. And yet, despite the restaurant's size and the enormous volume of food that left the kitchen, the staff made every diner feel like the experience was not only intimate but uniquely his or her own. The woman who accepted the proposal that night glowed like a queen. It would be my job to help maintain that glow. I had the good fortune to be assigned to one of the Jedi. Windows on the World's Andrea Immer had won a highly competitive contest in 1997 to be crowned the best sommelier in America. She was five feet two inches of pixie and pure grace, and the confidence she had on the floor reminded you of the way a great athlete owns a field. You got the sense that diners returned just to see her. Meet the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with and the $12 pinot noir you raised when you first looked into her eyes becomes priceless. When she asked if I'd brought along a waiter's corkscrew, I produced a sleek one that had been given to me as a gift and had the look of a new Jaguar driving out of the showroom. "I'll bet the blade is really sharp, " she said. "You might want to start out with one that's been used. " There are many skills that a great sommelier must master. But to me, the most important is the ability to remove the fear from diners who know little or nothing about wine. People have good reason to be nervous. Maybe it's the link to royalty in the past, but wine has a way of bringing out that I'm better than you quality in people you wouldn't want to have a drink with. But mostly it's the prices that keep people on edge. It may be strange to say this now, but when it came to wine, Windows was the safest place in the world to be. You'd never be made to feel uncomfortable if you didn't pronounce a wine correctly. You'd never be recommended a wine just because it wasn't selling and the manager wanted it out the door. You'd never be chumped into buying a pricey one to jack up the bill. Andrea had the ability to magically intuit how much you'd feel comfortable spending and then find a way to match your food with the best wine your money could buy. Her goal, it seemed, was to prove you could love wine as much as she did. As I followed Andrea around the floor, I was amazed at how her passion merged with precision. There was a certain way the wine bottle was to be carried from the cellar, the bottom grasped in the hand, the body cradled like a football inside the forearm. There was a correct way to introduce a wine by holding the label in front of the taster and reciting its name, region, country, and vintage. A correct way to open a bottle with the waiter's corkscrew, circumnavigating the knife blade around the lower lip and then using the blade to peel the foil off over the top of the cork. Chardonnay had to be poured to exactly the fattest part of the glass, allowing room for the drinker to swirl without spilling. It would take me pages to describe all the rules and procedures, but they contributed to something special, because diners were at the same time made to relax and feel like royalty. Redux Andrea made it all look so easy that when she asked me if I'd like to try serving a table myself, I accepted—without bothering to tell her that I had never removed a cork with a waiter's corkscrew. My first table was a group of guys who were ordering steaks and laughing so loudly that it didn't seem possible to screw up. The table reminded me of an Australian party, so I recommended a Shiraz from Down Under that wailed like Tina Turner. I circled the corkscrew's blade around the foil covering the lip, but when I went to strip the foil over the top of the cork, I fumbled and the sharp new blade sliced into my thumb and sent blood spurting. "You okay? " Andrea called from outside the door of the men's room as I rinsed off my bloody palm. It was beyond embarrassing. I stared in the mirror, shook my head, and tried to smile. An acrobat had once lain down on his back on a steel cable between the Twin Towers a quarter of a mile above the sidewalk. The Perfect Man couldn't even open a bottle of wine at the same height without bloodying himself. AP There was never a day that I entered the World Trade Center when I didn't think about Philippe Petit's tightrope walk between the towers. Even now, after watching snippets of it hundreds of times on YouTube, it still gives me thrills. The walk was not sanctioned, and there was no safety net. Petit spent six years in secretive planning, observing the towers as they came up and posing as a construction worker and a journalist to take measurements and check out the wind currents. Early on the morning of August 7, 1974, he and his posse hid in the World Trade Center and used a crossbow to first shoot fishing line across the gap between the towers, then pull successively thicker lengths of rope across that could support the cable. At 7:15 a. m., after the 450-pound cable had been stretched taut between the towers, he stepped out. The sonavabitch didn't just walk. He danced. At times, both of his feet bounded off the cable. He bowed on a knee. He lay on his back with his balancing pole balanced on his chest, and relaxed as if he were in the grass of Central Park. When he was asked later why he did it, he replied, "If I see three oranges, I have to juggle. And if I see two towers, I have to walk. " I took inspiration from his preparation, showing up early for business conferences so I could practice opening dozens of bottles consecutively with my waiter's corkscrew until I could do it in my sleep. I learned to discreetly point to prices on the menu as I spoke about wines so the host could let me know if my recommendations were within his or her budget without ever having to mention the cost. I wanted to connect every diner with the grandeur of the journey from wine dunce to sommelier. I wanted you to understand what it was like to try to drink every wine at Vinexpo and bump into Edith Piaf. Sometimes I got carried away with diners who knew more than a little about wine, entering prolonged discussions over exactly which hard-driving California cab could release "Freebird" in their souls. In times like those, the general manager, Glenn Vogt, would call me over, put his arm around me, and let me know that it was great to see an entire table looking at the wine list as if it were a jukebox, but in the meantime four tables had been seated and the diners appeared to be very thirsty. It was time to step out on my own. Glenn and the chef, Michael Lomonaco, knew just the right place to hang the high wire. Wild Blue was a romantic restaurant set alongside Windows on the World. It had the same floor-to-ceiling windows, but it was not a tourist attraction. It was an intimate dining room that New Yorkers knew about and returned to because it was the place where Lomonaco had thrown his heart and soul. It was his home within Windows, which made me proud when he made it mine. My first evening as the sommelier was a Thursday night in May, 2001. The first seating was a couple celebrating their twentieth anniversary. The husband was a friend of mine, but his wife had never seen my face and therefore had no idea that I knew who she was. I had them seated at a table overlooking the necklace of lights on a bridge straddling the East River. Then I approached them in a suit tailored especially for the evening with a bottle cradled against my chest. The Perfect Man couldn't even open a bottle of wine at the same height without bloodying himself. "Good evening, " I said. "On the occasion of your anniversary, all of us at Windows on the World would like to present you with a taste of Lordeaux champagne. It is served at the Assemblée Nationale in France and is ordinarily unavailable in the United States. Never before has it been poured at these heights, and never shall it be poured here again. " The wife knew little about champagne, but she understood something much deeper, and as she looked at her husband, her eyes welled up. If on that night I possessed one-trillionth the audacity of Philippe Petit on the high wire, it still was big juice. I simply had no fear of wine. If you asked me about the fifteen hundred wines on the Windows list, I could talk to you from amarone to zinfandel. Pick your music and I'd pour. I even found humor in my missteps. When I spilled a few drops on a table, I apologized with gusto. "That is unforgivable! Let me bring you another bottle on the house! " "Hey, " called a guy at the next table. "Why don't you spill some here! " I spread such joy on that evening that people actually took money from their wallets and slid it into the palm of my hand as they shook to say goodbye. Even as I protested—"No, you don't understand, that's not why I'm doing this"—they insisted, squeezing my palm shut, imploring, "Take it, please. " A week later, a woman whom I served that night came back with some friends and asked in all seriousness, "Is Cal working tonight? " Perhaps I should have started writing the story the following day. But there was no deadline, I was occupied with other work, and I went on vacation over the summer. I figured I'd clear out time in September. I didn't know any of the seventy-three staff workers at Windows on the World who died on September 11 after the hijacked plane smashed into the North Tower. I didn't know any of the waiters who were serving seventy-one guests at a technology conference breakfast. I didn't know any of the people who chose to jump rather than choke and burn, nor any of the firemen who went up when everybody else was coming down, nor any of the more than three thousand who perished. I do know a man who was in the bathroom on the eighty-first floor when the airliner struck, who got down the stairwell in time to see Tower 2 imploding in the reflection off the windows of the Millennium Hotel across the street, and who dove for cover screaming the names of his wife and son as the weight of the World Trade Center fell on his head. When my friend Michael described the experience, we both knew that there was no way he could even begin to convey the depth of emotions he'd passed through on that day. So there's very little reason to bring up my feelings—especially since I was five hundred miles away. I can tell you I felt the need to be there. A few days later, at dusk, a friend of a friend managed to get me on a National Guard Humvee that toured the site. Even after all the images I'd seen on television, it was unrecognizable. I understood why people in New York who were watching the towers fall on television had left their living rooms to watch it from their balconies or windows or rooftops, just to confirm that it was truly happening. We drove through military checkpoints, police checkpoints, fire-department checkpoints. I stared at the monumental tangle of steel and concrete and realized the hijackers had planned to kill with the same intense detail that Philippe Petit had employed to make our spirits soar. For hours, we toured the sight in virtual silence. At one point, we passed some graffiti that read: O BIN, YOU DONE FUCKED UP. As my friend Michael had run down city streets covered in dust consisting of the remains of people who'd been disintegrated, he tried to grasp some meaning from what was happening. This was all part of a pattern of human cruelty and killing that has gone on since the beginning of time, he told himself. He just happened to be very close to this one. Some part of me was not the same as it was on 9/10. It would have been very easy for me to kill anyone attached to this in the slightest way. The evening turned into morning and I never did get my balance. When I saw a parking garage filled with cars covered with that same gray dust, I turned to the National Guard captain and foolishly asked, "Why don't people come and get their cars? " "Cal, " the captain said, putting a hand on my shoulder to balance me and leaving it there for a while. "A lot of those cars don't have owners anymore. " I can't be sure that wine has ever tasted the same to me. Not long after, a benefit was organized for the families of those who'd worked and lost their lives at Windows on the World. Elite wineries in California donated cases of their best stuff to be auctioned off. The city's great chefs volunteered to cook for the occasion at Robert DeNiro's restaurant, Tribeca Grill. New York's finest sommeliers signed on to pour. Glenn Vogt called and asked me if I'd stand in as the sommelier of Wild Blue. Glenn had arrived at the World Trade Center the morning of 9/11 to see bodies and debris hurtling down from the sky. Michael Lomonaco would be at the benefit only because he stopped to get a pair of eyeglasses on 9/11, delaying his regular arrival for the fifty-eight-second elevator ride up to 107. At the benefit I poured fabulous wines from Screaming Eagle, Harlan Estate, Colgin Cellars, Bryant Family Vineyard, and Sine Qua Non, all the while thinking about the Muslim waiter at Windows who'd died in the carnage and whose wife gave birth to his son the following day. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were raised. Toward the end of the evening, the chefs were announced to great applause. Then the sommeliers. As my name was called out with a few others from Windows on the World, a few diners stepped out of their chairs to make it a standing ovation. Waves of emotion ran through me, incredible pride to have been touched by Windows, but also the feeling you get when you bite into a rotten pear. Yes, the evening was all about lifting spirits. But there was no escaping in that instant what an imposter I was. I was no sommelier. I had not lost my colleagues and my livelihood. I was a writer—and even worse, a writer who, at the moment, couldn't write. I'd spent many 3:00 a. m. 's staring at a blank computer screen searching for a first sentence. There was none. Nor was there a last. Everything in the middle was wine bottles falling end over end through space as bodies hurled by into the twisted jumble of wreckage. Months later, I went to interview the chef Mario Batali for another story, and I told him about my experience. If anyone would have a response to the one question I wanted answered, it would be Mario, for at heart he was a creator who knew how to bring very different ingredients together to make his food sing. "Is it possible, " I asked, "to write a story that balances the fun I had discovering wine with the horror of 9/11? " He was silent for a moment, then he slowly shook his head back and forth. "No. You'll never be able to do it, " he said. And then he paused and added, "but you've got to. " The editor who'd backed my journey didn't say a word—which only made it worse. After handing me one of the best years of my life and seeing the conflict it had smashed into, we both knew he was hoping for something extraordinary. I tried to jump-start the story like a dead battery by going off on my own to Portugal to do something I'd dreamed of: turning grapes into wine with my bare feet. Technology has made winemaking more efficient throughout the world, but the best ports are still made the old-fashioned way. After the grapes are picked, they're dropped into granite troughs called lagars that hold about two thousand gallons of juice. In the evenings, the pickers methodically march for a couple of hours. Then a free-for-all called liberdade erupts and a carnival in grape juice begins. I stepped into the lagar at Fonseca, marched for hours, and then threw myself into the party. We stamped our grape-stained handprints on each other's shirts and spun dizzily all night. When liberdade came to a close, one of the Portuguese grape pickers asked me where I was from. "New York, " I said. He blinked, said, "World Trade Center, " and came forward to embrace me. The woman next to him joined him in the embrace, as did the man behind her. The embrace grew larger and larger, men and women forming a collective hug around me up to our thighs in grape juice. And still, the world's understanding did not give me enough understanding to write. Nothing came, and in my guilt I'd find myself stammering to the editor that something soon would. But I knew the reality. I took the box of wine notes in my office down to the basement and buried it. My lies made my guilt feel like betrayal. More time passed. In 2004, the hilarious movie Sideways, about two guys on a road trip through California wine country, came out to great fanfare. Wine bars started sprouting all over America. More and more people were becoming aware of wine and less afraid of it. The editor called me in to tell me that the story might no longer be relevant, perhaps a last-ditch attempt to wrench it out of me. I went to my basement to dredge up my wine notes and found that they had been soaked by a rainstorm and were now black with mold. The fifth anniversary of 9/11 arrived and an extraordinary magazine cover appeared in my mailbox: an illustration of Philippe Petit with his long balancing pole on an empty white background. There was no tightrope. There were no Twin Towers. He was trying to balance himself on nothingness. Which is exactly what writing this story would be like—trying to walk a tightrope that didn't have any rope. There was no tightrope. He was trying to balance himself on nothingness. Time had only made the world more bewildering. There was a war declared on a country that didn't attack us. The world that had hugged me in a Portuguese wine trough had now seen a photo of a smiling American soldier holding a leash that circled around the neck of a naked Iraqi in a prison. Once, in North Carolina, an all-American eight-year-old kid I was interviewing told me about arguments he'd had with classmates who adamantly insisted that President Bush had secretly masterminded the attacks on 9/11. There was an economic meltdown. An opening appeared for a man with black skin to demand change and be elected president. Navy Seals finished off bin Laden. Dictators were overthrown in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya, while the tallest building in the world was being constructed in the Middle East and the U. S. shuddered as it reached its debt limit. The world was evolving into a different place because of 9/11. Everything that happens for the rest of this century will stem from that day, just as September 11 came out of everything that preceded it. I had walked in the carnage of the most important moment of my lifetime. A writer with nothing to say. And how important was that, anyway, when I thought of the thousands of kids without parents? When the ball descended and the clock struck midnight to announce the beginning of 2008, I stood and cheered with my family in the middle of Times Square. Millions of people had been neatly arranged in blocks by the police department throughout the day, and my three children ran with their friends amongst the jubilant crowd with happy abandon. There had not been an attack on our soil since 9/11. I looked around at the police presence and the sense of organization, and I swear in that moment it felt like Times Square was the safest place on earth. Could I have imagined that on 9/12? No, I'd never be able to make sense of it all. Something inside me stopped trying. If it was death that took the story away from me, then it was death that brought it back to life. I was eating dinner with a group that included a woman whose husband had passed away. She'd spent a good amount of time on her own and concluded that she was ready for another partner. She explained how difficult the transition was. Having been married for years, she felt uncertain, didn't even know how or where to begin looking. As she spoke, an image came to my mind of Kevin Zraly proudly announcing how his Windows on the World wine class had been the meeting ground for more than a dozen marriages and created quite a few children. "Enroll in a wine class, " I said. It was a sensible suggestion. You can get a good glimpse of somebody's character simply by talking about wine, and if it flies from there, it's destiny. But the instant I made the suggestion, I realized that something huge had happened. For the first time in years, I once again saw wine in terms of possibility and growth. I had come to a new beginning—which meant that this story had an end. Not long thereafter, I sat at a hotel bar with a blank notebook and began to trace all the grape stains backward to the day in 1999 when I first stepped into the elevator in the lobby of the World Trade Center. The more I thought, the more I realized how absurd it was to think that this ever could have been a simple, merry story. Life is just not that way, and nobody's ever going to be perfect. The world is balanced just like the finest wines. Since 9/11, my life had been touched by births, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, and amazing little moments that make you grateful to be alive, as surely as it had brushed up against illness, cruelty, murder, profound sadness, and death. Wine is simply here to help us celebrate the joy as well as push us past the tragedy. "Give me wine to wash me clean from the weather-stains of care. " Ralph Waldo Emerson got that right. As I sat at that bar drifting back in time, a waiter approached the bartender carrying a glass of a sweet white wine from Italy called vin santo. "We have a complaint that it's not good, " the waiter said, pushing the glass toward the bartender. The bartender was young, just out of college. He poured a fresh glass from the bottle, took a taste, and looked uncertain. "Let me try, " I said. There was an authority in my voice that surprised even me, and the bartender poured me a taste and pushed it forward. I swirled the glass the way Zraly taught me and guessed from the aroma that the bottle had been open for a while and the exposure to air had distorted the wine. "That's correct, it's not right, " I said upon tasting. "Open a new bottle and pour a fresh glass. " The bartender opened a new bottle, poured the glass, sent it off with the waiter, and turned back to me. He told me he wasn't really a bartender but an aspiring singer, that as a high school student he had once sung "Ave Maria" for Pope John Paul II in the Vatican. "That wine wasn't that bad, " he said. "How were you so certain it was no good? " "If you sang for the Pope, you know all you need to know, " I said. "Taste it again. This time, listen to the music in it. You'll see how the music's right, right, right—then, at the very end, there's a note that's off-key. " He put the glass to his lips, ran the wine around his palate the way I told him, swallowed, and a smile slowly lit up his face. "Yeah, " he said, nodding. "Yeah. I get it. ".

Watch stream windows on the world 10. Windows on the World was one of the greatest restaurants New York City has ever seen. Located on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center, it offered guests soaring views of not only Manhattan, but also Brooklyn and New Jersey. Although the food couldn't always match the scenery, at its best, Windows provided guests with a sophisticated, forward-thinking dining experience unlike any other in New York City. Windows on the World vanished 12 years ago. On that horrific day, 79 employees of the restaurant lost their lives. Here, now, is a remembrance of Windows on the World, with an afterword from the restaurant's last chef and greatest champion, Michael Lomonaco: [GM Alan Lewis, chef Andrew Renee, restaurateur Joe Baum via Edible Manhattan] Windows on the World was the brainchild of visionary restaurateur Joe Baum. With the Restaurant Associates group, Baum created a string of '60s blockbusters including La Fonda Del Sol, The Forum of the Twelve Caesars, and The Four Seasons. In 1970, after parting ways with Restaurant Associates, Baum was hired by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey to help develop the restaurants at the World Trade Center. [A '70s menu for Windows via Typofile; A pamphlet for the world Trade Center Club via eBay] Baum, along with partners Michael Whitman and Dennis Sweeney, created 22 restaurants for the World Trade Center, many of which were casual operations located in the basement concourse. But the most elaborate Baum creation was Windows on the World, which occupied the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower. The restaurateur hired architect Warren Platner to design a grand, modern space. [ Windows on the World Ephemera from Milton] Graphic designer Milton Glaser (of the I? NY and Brooklyn Brewery logos) contributed the menu artwork, dishware patterns, and logo. Barbara Kafka picked the plateware and silverware. And James Beard and Jacques Pepin helped develop the menu. The Port Authority then signed a master lease with Inhilco, a subsidiary of Hilton International, to run the World Trade Center restaurants. Baum and his team then moved to Inhilco to put their plans into action. [Kevin Zraly talking to guests in 1976 via The Nestle Library] Windows on the World opened on April 19, 1976, as a private club with 1, 500 members who paid dues based on their relationship with and proximity to the World Trade Center — WTC tenants paid $360 a year, and those who lived outside the "port district" paid just $50. But anyone could visit Windows on the World in the early days if they paid $10 in dues, plus $3 per guest. [The Hors d'Oeuvrerie via The Nestle Library] In addition to the main dining room, where a table d'hote dinner was $13. 50, Windows on the World had an Hors d'Oeuvrerie that served global small plates. [Cellar in the Sky via Baum + Whiteman] One offshoot, dubbed the Cellar in the Sky, offered an expansive wine list from young gun sommelier Kevin Zraly, plus a five-course menu of American and European fare. In a New York magazine cover story titled "The Most Spectacular Restaurant in the World, " Gael Greene describes the experience of entering the dining room: Every view is brand-new? a miracle. In the Statue of Liberty Lounge, the harbor's heroic blue sweep makes you feel like the ruler of some extraordinary universe. All the bridges of Brooklyn and Queens and Staten Island stretch across the restaurant's promenade. Even New Jersey looks good from here. Down below are all of Manhattan and helicopters and clouds. Everything to hate and fear is invisible. Pollution is but a cloud. A fire raging below Washington Square is a dream, silent, almost unreal, though you can see the arc of water licking flame. Default is a silly nightmare. There is no doggy doo. Garbage is an illusion. [Cellar in the Sky via Baum + Whiteman] Windows on the World was an immediate success. New York Times critic Mimi Sheraton describes the dining experience: Unquestionably the best thing about this place, other than the toy-town views of bridges and rivers, skylines and avenues is the menu. It represents an international crossroads of gastronomy, stylish and contemporary, and perfectly suited to this particular setting and this particular city. The restaurant quickly became a favorite hangout of high-powered businessmen, politicians, and celebrities. By the end of its first year, Windows on the World had a waiting list that was fully booked for six months straight. [The view facing west via The David Blahg] In 2001, Joe Baum's creative partner Michael Whiteman told the Times: "In a way, it was the symbol of the beginning of the turnaround of New York.. were successful because New York wanted us to be successful. It couldn't stand another heartbreaking failure. '' [The original Windows on the World crew via Suzette Howes] Joe Baum was only involved in the management of Windows on the World during its first three years in business, but the restaurant sailed along through the '80s and early '90s. During this period, the restaurant employed a number of chefs that would go on to find success on their own, including Kurt Gutenbrunner, Christian Delouvrier, Eberhard Müller, and Cyril Reynaud. The critics were not always kind to Windows on the World, but year after year, it remained one of the top-grossing restaurants in the country. On February 26, 1993, a group of terrorists detonated a bomb inside a truck that was parked below the North Tower. The bombing killed six people, and injured over a thousand. The explosion damaged storing and receiving areas used by Windows on the World, and the restaurant was forced to shutter. Hilton International gave up its lease after the bombing, and the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey asked 35 restaurant groups for proposals for the Windows on the World space. [a New York article on the revamp from July 15, 1996] On May 13, 1994, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey announced that the Joseph Baum & Michael Whiteman Company had won the contract. Almost two decades after opening the restaurant, Joe Baum was back in control of Windows on the World. [Cellar in the Sky, 1996 via Baum + Whiteman] Baum and his partners tapped Hugh Hardy to create a dining room that was more colorful and whimsical than the original. Unlike the old Windows, which served Continental fare with a sharp American influence, the new restaurant offered a globetrotting menu from chef Philippe Feret. [The Greatest Bar on Earth via Skyscrapercity] The Hors d'Oeuvrerie was replaced by The Greatest Bar on Earth, a splashy space that had three bars and a menu of fun international fare. Before the reopening in summer of 1996, Baum told the Times: "When Windows first opened it was a great restaurant for New tourists came, they came mostly because New Yorkers were proud to bring them here. We want Windows to be a great restaurant for New Yorkers again. " [Windows on the World in 1996 via the Container List] Feret left Windows in May of 1997, and he was replaced by Michael Lomonaco, a chef that had earned raves at the '21' Club. A few months after he took control of the kitchen, Ruth Reichl bestowed two stars on Windows on the World. In 1999, Cellar in the Sky was replaced by Wild Blue, a cozy American restaurant, that was also overseen by Lomonaco. In his review, William Grimes wrote: "When night falls, Wild Blue feels like a plush space capsule hurtling through the cosmos. " 79 Windows of the World employees died on September 11, 2001. Michael Lomonaco was conducting an errand in the concourse of the World Trade Center when the first plane hit. The chef was evacuated from the building immediately, and witnessed the second plane hit the WTC from the street. Lomonaco then headed north and made it up to his home on the Upper East Side, where he immediately started figuring out who was working that day. 2001: Lomonaco and His Team Search for Employees: By the following week, a Windows on the World hotline was set up at the restaurant's sister establishment, Beacon, and Lomonaco and his head of human resources, Elizabeth Ortiz, began working to find the 50 employees that were unaccounted for. Lomonaco soon helped set up an relief fund called Windows of Hope, which raised over $22 million for the families of Windows workers. [A screengrab of the Windows on the World website from 2002] Windows on the World co-owner David Emil opened a Theater District restaurant in 2002 called Noche, which was staffed by several Windows employees, including Lomonaco — it closed in 2004. Some of the Windows employees opened a Noho restaurant in 2006 called Colors — it's still open, but only for parties and private events. For the past seven years, Lomonaco has been the co-owner and executive chef of Porter House in the Time Warner Center, and he recently opened Center Bar, a casual spinoff on the same floor as Porter House. The Port Authority has ruled out the possibility of putting a fine dining restaurant like Windows on the World at the top of the new World Trade Center, which is slated to open in 2014. Earlier this week, Eater interviewed Michael Lomonaco about his experiences on the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower. Here's an extended look back: [Michael Lomonaco via Porter House] What did it mean to you to get that job at Windows on the World? Michael Lomonaco: Well I'd never been there before. I'd never worked there. I'm a native New Yorker, and I remember very clearly when Windows on the World opened. I have very clear memories of that, even the review that they did in New York magazine. But one of the key memories I had always had was Cellar in the Sky, because the original Cellar in the Sky was a prix fixe restaurant — that was pretty new to New York. And it was advertised weekly in the dining section of the Times — they advertised the menu as changed every week, or every other week. That ad always stuck in my mind, how they promoted Cellar in the Sky. It just sounded so incredible. So fast-forward to the '80s. I got out of culinary school in 1984, and Windows on the World had become this giant place that was historic, and I'd never been there. I'd never gone to the Cellar. I'd never gone to Windows. In fact, the first time that I had ever gone up there was at the reopening in 1996 when they hosted an industry night, and I went up there for an evening. I knew Joe Baum pretty well in my days at '21. ' Joe was a regular and I was introduced to him, and he was a very passionate, warm, hospitable guy. He really was magnetic, in many ways. I had some sense of what was going on there. In the early '90s, when I met Joe, it was no longer associated with us. But then in 1996, when they did the big reopening, I was still at '21' and had started doing television at the Food Network, so I was in a transitional period. [Windows on the World in 1976 via the Container List] I'd left '21' in the last quarter of '96 to film Michael's Place at the Food Network. Then in '97, I was introduced to David Emil and Joe Baum. My relationship began with them at that time, and I really had some long talks with David Emil and with Joe Baum about joining them and becoming part of their team. I was the " chef-director. " This was Joe Baum's title for me. Direct all of the chefs. We had Windows on the World, there was Cellar in the Sky, and there was the Greatest Bar on Earth, and it was all private dining on the 106th floor, so there was quite a team of people. So that, for me, in '97 when I joined them, was really very exciting. It was very exciting because it was such a historic place, it was such a beloved place, and it was really at the pinnacle of its own opportunity to reinvent itself again. And that's the opportunity I took. That was the great step forward for me — it was the chance to reinvent Windows on the World. And, in fact, we shuttered Cellar in the Sky in '98, and reopened the space as Wild Blue in '99. It became a very kind of beloved space. It's small, 55 seats. Were you proud of your work up there? Absolutely. First of all, I had a great team. You know, there was a great group of people. There were 450, 500 people that worked up at Windows on the World at one time. And I had a great team with me. My chef de cuisine is still with me today — Michael Ammirati. He came with me. Michael, who would be here now at Porter House, he was a key component, because it was really just the two of us with a culinary team that was 35 people, trying to turn it to a new direction. I think we were able to fulfill, to some degree, an original vision that Joe Baum had for Windows on the World. You know, I thought that Joe's vision was that Windows on the World should be a beacon of American cooking, on American products, on American foods. And, also, shine a spotlight on local ingredients. So we started working with the local suppliers at the greenmarket in 1997, and a bunch of the produce that we bought came from the greenmarket at the World Trade Center. This is something that fit into my vision of what we could do, and also Joe's vision. And I'll tell you, in 1998, we were talking about planting an herb garden and a vegetable garden on the roof of the World Trade Center. Sustainable cuisine, sustainable cooking was something that Joe started talking about back in '97, probably before, and it was really a big topic when we met and talked about ideas. On a Saturday night, we could do 700 or 800 covers, but all of that was from-scratch cooking. Everything was cooked à la minute. And we did that with a great team of cooks in the kitchen, and our culinary chef staff. We just did it through organization, and sheer will that we would cook everything à la minute. [The Greatest Bar in the World via The Container List] Cellar in the Sky reopened in 1996. It was expensive. It was a prix fixe, $125-a-head dinner and it was kind of staid. It wasn't getting the traffic, because there were so many more things happening in the culinary world. And so what we did in 1998 was we closed Cellar in the Sky with the idea of turning it into an American chophouse, and that's what Wild Blue was. 55 seats and a very aggressive wine-by-the-glass program. We served, I think, really delicious American chophouse fair. Prime beef, game birds, duck, squab, and it was all family-style. It was really kind of a fun place that became more of a locals restaurant. The tourist crowd, the visitor crowd would go to Windows, which had dramatic views. Wild Blue also had dramatic views, but on the south side of the building, facing the Statue of Liberty. We had a very kind of local crowd. I'm very proud of the work we did there, and I'm very proud of the people I met and had the chance to work with. Do you have a favorite memory from working on the 106th and 107th floors? A real favorite memory was the annual holiday party that David Emil and Joe Baum hosted, and that was held in January at Windows. That's where everyone who worked there was invited to bring members of the family and come to one of the private dining rooms, which could seat 500 people, if not more. That holiday party was a fantastic memory. Everyone came with family. Everyone who worked there got dressed up. We had people from the around the world at Windows, and it was an incredibly global staff. The team would refer to themselves as the U. N. of restaurants. They had such diversity in the workforce, the staff that worked there. And there were more than 60 languages that were spoken among the staff. You could alway find someone who could act as a translator for any guest who needed help. This diversity was exciting. But on that day when we had our holiday party, it was really wonderful to see all of the people we worked with. Much of them came in the finest clothes that they wore in their original, native homelands. It was like being at a party at the U. with beautiful clothing from around the world — from Africa, from Asia, from India, and Latin America. Just a beautiful thing where people were proud of where they worked. Everyone had a good time. You devoted a lot of your life after 9/11 to working with the families of the employees that died, and the employees that were displaced. Did you think that, after a year or two, there would be another Windows on the World? Did you think that you would be able to work together again? There was a lot of pain and loss felt by everyone and it was different for each individual. We lost 79 of our co-workers. But I think that there was some sense of time to recover. It's a very difficult question to answer, because I think it's personal to each individual. You've got to see it from this point of view: There were people lost at Windows who had family members who worked there who weren't lost. We had a family that worked in our kitchen, there were four brothers, the Gomez brothers, two were lost and two were not. There was a lot of recovery. I think the pain of recovery leads to, "We want to get back to where we were... " I think there was a sense of people trying to stay together. There was also a lot of confusion in the aftermath thinking, "What is the right thing to do? " It was something I wish could've happened overnight. For me, I wish that this never would have happened, of course, but there were different configurations of people trying to stay together. We had Noche in Times Square with nearly 50 of our co-workers. That's a small number compared to Windows Hospitality Group, which was one of the largest in the world in sheer volume and size. So, 50 people working together was a comforting thing for some of us to be able to continue to work together. Others went down to the restaurant on Lafayette Street — there were groups that felt they wanted to keep some of their friends and co-workers together. The loss of something so immense was a shock in itself. 12 years later, what is your relationship with the families of the employees you worked with? As in any situation, you know some people better than others. You have to cultivate some have to imagine 450 people working together. I'm just trying to stress that that's a lot of people. There are some people that I knew quite well, and I am in touch with some of the family members of those who lost. I do keep in touch with some. There are others who, we work together, and we have some contact during the year. I have a few of my co-workers who were with me at Windows, who now work with me at Porter House. If this is something that can answer your Windows of Hope Relief Fund, we raised 22 million dollars with the help of Tom Valenti, David Emil, the board members, and the group of people who were with me. That fund is still paying for education for 150 children who are eligible to receive education grants from that fund, every year. A great portion of the original funds went to emergency aid to those families who lost someone on that day. There was emergency aid and health insurance that the funds paid for, for the first five years. The original mission was emergency aid, health insurance, and educational opportunities for the children of the victims, of the food service worker victims. All of the food service workers who were identified, of which there were 102, Windows being the greatest. Just so you understand, when we established that fund, we worked with the Community Service Society of New York to administer the families' needs, and I think the most important thing that we could give them was a sense of dignity and a respect for their loss, and maintain the respect for their privacy. So, in a way, it kind of cut off having personal relationships with people that were included in this fund. Do you think New York will ever have a restaurant like Windows on the World again? Oh yeah, that's the spirit of New York and our nation and humanity. To build, to create, to entertain our guests — that's what we do. Windows was incredible, and because it had really been reborn in its incarnation in 1996, that version of Windows wasn't meant to be exclusive. It was a very inclusive and democratic restaurant. The prices were not exorbitantly high, and people could come in and go to the bar and have a Coke and having this incredible experience of seeing the city. It was very open, hospitable, and friendly. I think in that spirit, New York will have something like this. I'm very happy to talk to you, because what I want you to understand day, aside from the fact that I survived greatest thing I could offer is doing what I was doing before, so that the memory of my friends and colleagues lost that day have honor. I feel privileged to wake up every day and do what I do. What I do, in part, is a tribute to my friends and colleagues. [ A view from Windows on the World] Further Reading: · From Windows on the World to Windows of Hope [Thirteen] · Lomonco Escaped 9/11 but Dedicates Cooking to Friends he Lost [NYDN] · Windows That Rose So Close To the Sun [NYT] · Drinking at 1, 300 Ft: A 9/11 Story About Wine and Wisdom [Esquire] · Ruth Reichl Remembers Windows on the World [NYM] · Windows on the World: The Wine Community's True North [Wine News] · The Legacy of Joe Baum [Edible Manhattan] · Windows on the World Opening Report (Subscription required) [NYT] · Gael Greene's First Visit [Insatiable Critic] · Mimi Sheraton's First Visit (Subscription required) [NYT] · Gael Greene's Review from November of 1976 [Google Books] · Mimi Sheraton's Second Visit (Subscription Required) [NYT] · Bryan Miller's One Star Review from 1987 [NYT] · Bryan Miller's Review from 1990 [NYT] · Renovation Report from 1996: Can the Food Ever Match the View? [NYT] · Ruth Reichl's Two Star Review from 1997 [NYT] Windows on the World World Trade Center, New York, NY.

Damn imagine having that job tho, you gotta have the right mentality to have that job especially if a scenario like this happens. Hell nah I could never.