New Yorkers may be angry and rattled, but some of them are still confident to the core

NEW YORK – They may be known as the toughest people in the toughest city in the world, and they showed their resilience Thursday. But chuck normalcy out the window. This is still a city on edge.

As New Yorkers tried to return to work and normal routines, some were thwarted by bomb threats forcing evacuations of buildings. Many had no office to return to, others had no way to get there.

Everyday lives have been shattered – in ways large and small that people here are only beginning to realize – by the attack that leveled the World Trade Center.

Many residents of lower Manhattan had no phones, no electricity, no mail and no expectation of getting those services soon.

Anger and the angst were mounting – not because of minor inconveniences but in knowing that this calamity happened to their beloved city.

"I'm starting to get angry because this is a crime against us as New Yorkers, and we're the best city and have the best people in the whole world. And people shouldn't mess with us," said Francisco Lopez Jr., a 32-year-old bus driver and native New Yorker.

He's worried because "this seems like the beginning of World War III. But I'm a New Yorker, so I should get through this," he reasoned.

John Bailey, a housekeeper at Bellevue Hospital, spent 48 hours after the attack organizing body bags. He handled 800 bodies.

"I'm damn angry about all this. How could people do this to us? All you can do is try to forget and move on. But it's in our face every day."

Threats cause panic

"It's New York," shrugged account representative Jackie Prekop as she sipped on a cold drink. "They're a very confident people."

New Orleans transplant Ben Diggins said it comes part and parcel with being a proud member of the biggest city in the United States. "It's a mentality," the 26-year-old said, shaking his head. "They're very aggressive."

Confident? Aggressive? Resilient? More like nerves of carbonized steel.

"It's a rude awakening," admits Jill Finestone, as she stood with her husband, Jerry, waiting to go back into their evacuated office buildings along Broadway after a bomb scare.

"But New York will go back to being New York," she said. "You can't live in fear every day."

Special precautions

Since Tuesday, Ms. Prekop said, she now sleeps with the television on. "If something happens, I want to know about it."

Anne Maria Duval, 45, who works at a government agency near the World Trade Center, said she's become more alert.

"I'm considering this war, and everyone should be alarmed. I went out and bought all of the canned food and water I could in the store yesterday. Hardly anything was left on the shelf. People have to be prepared for another attack. Get matches, candle and water," she said.

As people fled their offices in the garment district about 12:45 p.m. when word spread of bomb threats at Macy's, the Port Authority and Penn Station, shouts of "I gotta get out of this city!" could be overheard from people who frantically flipped out cellphones to contact relatives and friends.

Despite the terror that has run through this city, there were some signs of a return to normalcy.

A few blocks from the bomb scares, theatergoers were vying for canceled Broadway tickets. As many as 50 people lined up outside the St. James Theater were hoping for a chance to relieve some tension of the past few days by finding a canceled ticket to the Broadway hit The Producers.

At Madame Tussaud's, workers placed a wax figure of President Bush outside so tourists could have their picture taken with the mock president. The museum reopened Thursday and was donating the day's receipts to relief for victims of the tragedy.

"I just feel guilty about me being OK," admitted Janine Carpello, general manager of Madame Tussaud's.

'A different world'

But the closer people got to lower Manhattan, the more abnormal life became.

"Wait till we get below 14th Street. It's a different world," said Sue Aronson, 52, a teacher who lives a few blocks from the World Trade Center and was riding a bus home from her job on the upper East Side.

She spent the last two nights in a $269 crummy hotel room, she said, and was going home to an apartment with no electricity.

"I have a refrigerator filled with melted, boiled food, and I don't care. Compared to what happened to all those poor people, I'm not worrying about small things anymore. I'd be embarrassed to."

Sung Kim, owner of a small family market in Little Italy, said he hasn't been able to get deliveries all week because streets in lower Manhattan are closed to nonofficial vehicles. "We're running out of food so I'll maybe have to close the store tomorrow," he said.

Lunella Ristorante, one of a handful of restaurants open in Little Italy, was full of patrons, as the voice of Pavarotti blared through an open door. "We're a neighborhood restaurant, and we have to be here for our people," explained Vincent La Rosa, the manager.

Saying 'hi,' 'thanks'

"I don't know how long this will last because New York is a rough city to live in – there are so many people and everyone moves so fast," he said.

Outside of Ernie's restaurant on the Upper West Side, the Red Cross was accepting donations of water and food.

One man emerged from a store with a bottle of water in his hand, saw the donations and quietly dropped in his bottle.

"People think New Yorkers are just rude and mean, but that's the biggest falsehood," said Kathy Murphy, manager of Ernie's.

Mark Cox, a 33-year-old investment banker, bolted from his office when he heard the building next door had been evacuated because of a bomb threat.

Walking home through an almost empty Central Park with his 9-month pregnant wife, he said: "Everyone wants normalcy after what happened because normalcy feels good. I went to work today, but to tell you the truth, I feel worse today."

And it will be some time before New Yorkers work through the horrifying scenes of the past few days.

Amy Ladden, 40, a design director in the garment district, said, "I think we're going to be jumpy for a while."

Staff writer Carolyn Barta contributed to this report.