Like the rest of you, I spent my entire Friday morning mouth-agape, staring at my television, frantically updating Twitter and The New York Times and pretty much every other media outlet that wasn’t the New York Post or CNN. (Best line about CNN’s live coverage this morning: “CNN is what I imagine William Hurt’s character from Broadcast News would sound like if Holly Hunter wasn’t whispering in his ear.” Seriously, what happened to those guys?)
Like the rest of you, I’m still doing it right now. This is probably going to be the case all day. I hope no one in this country is planning on getting any work done before the weekend. I’m fortunate enough to work out of home, so I could stare at the television and refresh Twitter without having to put on pants. I have no idea how you all went into the office today. Maybe you did it pantsless.
(Note: If you were in Boston, this was an easier equation to navigate, perhaps the only aspect of being in Boston today that was easier.)
That’s to say: This has been one of the most compelling days to watch live television that I can ever remember. The story changes every minute, something you think is true is instantly proven wrong, you can’t step away for half a second lest you miss some sort of history. It feels important. Are they gonna catch the guy? Either guy? There’s more than one guy? They stopped a train? Someone’s driving toward New York? Will someone please stop Tweeting the police scanner? What’s going on at Niagara Falls? Hey, look, CNN has noticed a dog.
As scary as today has been, as scary as it still is, it is undeniable that it has been sort of thrilling; we are a whole country of news junkies now, and we all get to play along, sorting out what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s real and what isn’t. It’s a real-time, DVR-proof, nationwide-event that’s happening for all of us at the exact same moment. It’s a collective experience in a fragmented culture that has fewer and fewer of them.
It has, to be frank, the feel of a big sporting event. That’s what it keeps reminding me of: Everyone I know watching the same thing at the same time, remarking on it, explaining it to each other, reacting as one. The problem, of course, is that sports is the safe version of that drama. We don’t really want the unexpected in real life; that’s what sports are for. We click and watch and stare now, and then, when it’s all over, when it’s quiet, then we will weep. I’m going to need some fake drama to distract me. I’m going to need more static to fill the void. I want it to not matter anymore.
