Before I started at BuzzFeed, I worked at My Place Pizza, a Newtown staple, from the age of 15 through 22. On a typical Friday, by far the busiest night of the week, we made 300-400 pies. I can’t help wonder how many pizzas My Place made this past Friday night.
I was there on September 11, 2001, and making pizzas proved to be an effective way to take my mind off what was happening 50 miles away. On Friday morning, working at a job that requires me to stare at Twitter all day, I didn’t have the luxury of work as an escape, of distracting me from that 50-mile divide. I heard the news of the shooting at 9:30, and didn’t take my eyes off Twitter for the next 10 hours as things played out in a strange and confusing way. By noon, I had to turn off my phone. I simply posted on Facebook: “Thank you for all your texts, emails, tweets, gchats. No one from my family is in Newtown at this time. Everyone is okay.”