I didn’t know where the Port Authority Bus Terminal was and walked out pulling my suitcase behind me (“sorry, love, we’re not allowed to offer baggage storage after September 11”) to see to my surprise that I was on Broadway. Turn a corner and there are screens everywhere. Times Square. I eat in the most touristy restaurant I can find (waiters leap tables and crack jokes) watching the video looping outside the army recruitment station. That night, I’ll dream about the ghost of the soldier who rescues the muscled young man from the mud. Join the army, become a heroic ghost.