Tuesday was a beautiful day for a New York City outing, so friend and neighbor Christine Carter and I decided to visit the Dahesh Museum of Art at 56th and Madison, and then have a bite and coffee at Juan Valdez on 57th Street. We strolled around the five-block radius of the tram until it was time to head on home. The day was warm and bright so, though we were on Lexington near the F train we decided to take the Tram and continue to enjoy the sunshine.

When we arrived at the Tram Station, it was after 5:00. The Tram had just arrived from Roosevelt Island. It was on its normal rush-hour schedule, so we knew it was "perfect timing." We boarded and shortly thereafter the doors closed. The operator didn’t receive the "all clear" command so he was nice enough to reopen the doors and let latecomers onto the Tram. We received the OK and lifted off towards home.

About a third of the way along, the Tram seemed to hesitate and then abruptly stopped. I wasn’t overly concerned because this has happened during the 29 years I’ve lived on the Island and taken the Tram. I assumed it would start to move in ten minutes or so. However, when the minutes lengthened into an hour, then another hour, then another hour, without substantive communication between the ground and us, we began to get into a controlled state of panic and anger. We were informed that the diesel generator was being put into place and that it would power us to the station and we should be moving in about 20 minutes. The main thing was to remain calm. Lo and behold, the Tram finally started moving. But in a minute or so all our hopes were dashed and the cabin simply stopped in place.

Many of us kept ourselves occupied by reading whatever we happened to have in our possession, watching the water traffic, chatting with each other – anything to keep questions at bay and imaginations quiet. You see, we couldn’t picture being plucked from our dangling hang-out 200 feet above the East River. As soon as we tried to solve or make sense out of how we would be rescued, our anxiety levels increased. It was best to not dwell on any of it and just sit in one place and remain quiet, trying not to think too much of what might be our "shining chariot" to earth.

We all seemed to have our little quirks. The passengers consisted of about 12 children, 14 and under, and the rest adults in varying stages of life, including an 84-year-old women with a walker, a couple of first-time riders, and visitors on holiday excursions. The children actually fared the best. They were the most-well-behaved kids I’ve seen in a long time. Four little boys actually fell asleep, one in his stroller, one in his Dad’s arms, and two in a corner on the floor of the Tram. Some of the adults engaged the other kids in normal everyday ordinary conversation.

All the cell phones were engaged constantly with calls coming in from the NYPD on the Queensboro Bridge and elsewhere, and from TV and radio stations. A team effort read the fingers of a newsman on the bridge and copied his phone number down. I called him and he gave my number to the officer who stayed in touch with me throughout with words of support and, "How is everyone holding up?" That’s about all he was able to do. Various passengers would relay information they received from family and friends on the ground. We were just thankful that every one of us was relatively under control. Even if we were tense and angry or nervous on the inside, we pretty much hid it. That was a great help because if anyone started to panic or show great anxiety surely it would be contagious. I’m quite experienced in reading others’ moods, as I’ve worked with the public as a professional Flight Attendant for 36 years. Being on a Tram is not unlike the feeling of helplessness that some experience when traveling on an airplane where everything is out of their control. We have to count on others to look after us and get us safely to our destination.

All five politicians representing the Island were here Wednesday. At right, Assemblymember Pete Grannis talks with a New York Times reporter. Member of Congress Carolyn Maloney (left), State Senator Jose Serrano (back to camera), and City Councilmember Jessica Lappin (right) also sought to reassure residents that they’ll fight for the Tram’s continued existence as a vital transportation link for residents. Borough President Scott Stringer (inset) appeared later at a Community Board 8 meeting, which happened to be scheduled for Good Shepherd Community Center Wednesday evening.

Twelve-year-old Dax Maier became a media star after holding a press conference once on solid ground Tuesday night. Nudged by his mother after describing his experience, he added, “It was great to see how many nice people there are in New York.” Behind him is his companion, variously described as “nanny” or “babysitter.”

Even with the constant shared information, we weren’t getting any concrete solutions to our dilemma. It now was past sunset, we didn’t have any real food or water; irritability was starting to mount as moods were swinging from hopeful to downright despair. Questions were constantly being asked amongst the passengers without any answers being provided.

It was well after midnight when a call came in to our cabin saying that the emergency "basket" was to be sent up the cable to us with NYPD and FDNY rescue workers that would be able to evacuate 12 or so passengers at a time. It would be a slow process, as it would take approximately 15 minutes to reach the cabin, time to dock, hook up, and then board the basket, climbing over the gap over the water between the basket and the window sill of the cabin. As complicated as this sounded, a light seemed to be at the end of the tunnel!

The Tram operator proceeded to prepare the cabin for the arrival of the basket that would swoop us to safety. With the help of some of the passengers, he pulled off the safety grates over the windows then pulled out the entire windows (picture pushing the windshield out of your car). He placed all of this on the floor of the Tram, at which time many passengers crowded in front to search for this so-called basket. At the same time the NYPD was setting up search-light trucks on the 59th Street Bridge that would light up our Tram cabin #1. We were on display and ready to get out of the cabin.

Finally, after squinting and following the overhead cable down towards the ground, an orange contraption appeared like a star in the nighttime sky, and with "angels" on board to assist in a safe evacuation. Relief was in sight – our chariot was on its way.

As the basket approached the cabin, there was some bumping and vibrating as it inched closer and closer so as to make boarding as easy as possible. The "angels" (NYPD and FDNY) jumped through the cleared opening and came bearing water, food, and blankets. First were words of concern for our welfare. They asked that the children with parents and caretakers and the elderly prepare themselves to board the basket and proceed to the open end of the Tram.

The rescuers first had to secure the basket to the Tram with straps that they wound through the window sill of the Tram and then through bars on the basket, back and forth a few times to create a makeshift ladder that would bridge the gap between the Tram and the boarding floor of the basket. This was our only way back to solid ground. The crew preparations, instructions and commands were firm yet kind and encouraging, designed to get us to safety as quickly and efficiently as possible.

The first group to leave was the family consisting of 7 children with their father and some of the older passengers. When they finally were boarded, it seemed like ages before they were grounded, but there was no mistaking when that actually happened. Off in the distance, we heard the applause and cheering and couldn’t help think that would be us later on in the night. But we remained tense, thinking about traveling in that open-air basket well above the dark river below.

Chris and I stayed in the back of the crowd as others more vulnerable than us boarded the basket when it came back for the second trip. Finally it was our turn.

We boarded on the fourth trip back to the Island. The little bench that rests beside the Tram operator was put on the Tram bench seat. We were told to step on that bench, then step on the window sill, then put a foot into part of the strapping, then place our knee up on the platform of the basket. Our belongings were taken and boarded first and, when we got up into the basket, we were instructed to face forward with our back up against the sides so we weren’t looking out toward the water. It was almost akin to a ferris wheel ride, except much, much slower. We were not allowed to take pictures or hold anything except each other or the railings of the basket.

When we were let down to the station, the little door of the basket was unlatched and we were now put on a 12-foot ladder where a rescue worker actually attached himself to us as we walked down the ladder one step at a time to safe ground. As soon as we set foot on the ground we were personally escorted to a triage area, asked how we were doing as our vital signs were checked, and wrapped in a blanket. Then we were asked the most important question of all – whether we needed the bathroom. Family members, who were in their own special waiting area, were brought over to us and Public Safety drove us directly to our door.

It was now 2:30 a.m. What a day, an unforgettable experience to be sure. Thank you one and all for your support, for me, my husband, Mark and our children, Briana, Jillian, and Neal.

I now understand from personal experience why our police are described as "New York’s Finest" and our Fire Department "New York’s Bravest." Bravo!