Chaos erupted on 41st Street yesterday. 41st Street runs across the island on Mid Beach through a wealthy residential section; it connects the Atlantic side’s “Millionaires’ Row”—a condo canyon of housing prehistoric Snow Birds and New York transplants--to the bay side’s Mt. Sinai Hospital, where most of them go to die. In between are a lot of banks for them to hoard their money in and a lot of doctor’s offices to treat them before they go on to Mt. Sinai. Nothing much ever happens there except at The Forge, situated right in the middle, and a fine place for a $200 meal (sans wine) and a night of dancing.

Late in the morning this hapless creature entered a bank and announced he “…wanted money”. He had no mask or gun, but was taken seriously enough for the alarm to be sounded. Within minutes police swarmed in and took the guy into custody; there was no big struggle, no screams, and—of course—no shooting.

Then, a mysterious call came into police claiming to be his brother-in-law and warning that, if they did not release him, he would start shooting people on the street. Mayhem ensued. Every police car available arrived, swat teams with them; the FBI joined in and police helicopters competed with TV choppers circling overhead. Fox played it live and for seven hours the phone caller taunted the authorities into hysteria. Police entered two other banks and closed them. The searched the Sheridan Building across the street and forced doctors, dentists, office workers, and anyone other soul unfortunate enough to be having a tooth cleaning out of the building with their hands behind their backs lest THEY be the one with the gun. A nearby school was locked down for hours, the children herded into the basketball court while their parents clawed at the fences crying for their release (seemed strange to keep them out in the open....). In the end the police admitted that they over-reacted

In the end, nothing. No gun, no sniper. Maxwell Blanford of The Forge--with whom I worked at Level--summed up the horror of the day by telling The Herald that "...even the fish couldn't be delivered for dinner!" It was SO Maxwell, because it was so Miami Beach, pure theater, delightful entertainment. I guess with The Winter Music Conference having ended, something had to go on. But, don't the police have caller-ID?