Maybe Airplanes Weren't Such A Great Invention After All

“On a street of brownstones in Park Slope, Brooklyn—a run-down neighborhood politely described at the time as being “in transition”—one plane, a state-of-the-art jetliner, gouged long-lasting scars. The tail slammed down in an intersection. White-hot engines, smoldering cargo and badly burned bodies fell nearby. A stream of jet fuel touched off a fire that grew to seven alarms and destroyed 10 buildings and a church. Two men selling Christmas trees on a corner and a man shoveling snow were killed.”
If you live in New York, and have, for the past nine years, watched every airplane that passes overhead with a bit of secret dread, waiting for a sudden change in direction, a violent dive, ready to sound the alarm (and why wouldn’t you do this?), you might not want to read this account of when two planes crashed in mid-air over Park Slope. But I do/have/did. And I’m looking forward to the rest of the Times’ weeklong series on the disaster that happened 50 years ago this Thursday.