Ground Zero Travel Contest Essay

Hey all! this a story i wrote about an experience i had a while back for a travel contest. would love comments on what you think and suggestions for titles, grammar, better syntax, etc. thanks!

Our guide Jean wove expertly through the waves of people, and the four of us darted after her. Only Brianna, Matt, Casey and I chose to go to Ground Zero rather than shop. Four out of fifty six. Pushing aside the disgust I felt for my fellow students disinterest, I instead observed the City. Glancing around, nothing could be seen farther than forty feet in any direction, for everywhere one looked grand structures loomed under a thick plastering of gray clouds. It was fascinating and tiring at the same time.
For the past three days my fellow students and I’d been experiencing the marvelous life and style of New York City. It seemed like anything could be found in the immense City’s plethora; the only thing absent was silence. Shouts, bangs, laughter, blaring horns and the rumble of traffic meshed into a bedlam of constant sound.
We proceeded briskly through the mobs, passing a smorgasbord of folks. Men, women, old, young, short, tall, dark, fair -- the streets were a patchwork of faces, an ever-changing pattern. The air was laden with the perfume of City life: exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke. I coughed. The City had a time all its own -- everything hurried and rushed, as if there was not enough time in the day. Night did not exist there. Indeed, the City never slept, neon signs and thousands of artificial lights blurring the paint of time into a continuous canvas.
City life buzzed around us, but Ground Zero moved with a different rhythm. The site itself was nothing more than a vast construction zone, workers in vivid yellow jackets laboring amidst the damage. However things were slower here, almost as if the entire City was holding its breath. We gazed upon the rubble that sent violent repercussions through the American people and the world.
“Where were you on 9/11?” I asked Jean curiously.
She responded crisply but her expression was grim. “Funny story about that. I was supposed to be meeting a client that day. She worked at the top of Tower Two,” Jean paused. A chill like an icy finger ran down my spine, but the group remained entranced with suspense.
“What happened?” Brianna asked.
“My mother was very sick at the time. I decided to drive down to Jersey and see her. I called early and rescheduled the appointment; the woman I was supposed to meet died in the crash.”
No one spoke, though the feeling was unanimous. The realization that a coincidence had saved this woman’s life, and the terrifying notion of how little we know about how our decisions affect our tomorrow. Understanding how tenuous life is. How sometimes it’s just a matter of getting lucky.
It was an adventure... still, I would be glad to return to my little California town. I took a deep breath, coughed, and followed Jean back through the crowded streets of New York City.