THREE YEARS AFTER

WITHIN HOURS OF the Twin Towers' collapse, talk turned nervously to the "other shoe." When it would drop, nobody knew. But few doubted that it was hanging out there, somewhere over Manhattan most likely, dangling from al Qaeda's fingertips. Whether it was a slipper or a steel-toed boot was a mystery, one that remains 36 months later.

Happily, this mystery isn't as paralyzing as it used to be. In fits and dips, the fear of the other shoe has ebbed with time. Any sleeper cells that might be in place and ready to strike have had plenty of opportunities to do so, with numerous high-profile events and anniversaries to inspire them. The lack of an attack, even during last week's nerve-rattling appearance by the president, should lead us to the sensible conclusion that al Qaeda is simply not at present in any position to strike New York City at will. (At least not hard enough to justify blowing their wad.)

The city's fear has thus settled into a humdrum baseline acceptance of a theoretical danger, sort of like during the Cold War. This reality may not be as pleasant as the ignorant bliss of Sept. 10, 2001, but it sure beats the icy fear that flowed from the immediate aftermath of the attacks. The fact is that more people have been killed in this city during the last three years by random subway shootings than terrorism. Nobody wants to guess how long it will last, and sometimes it seems as if Tom Ridge refuses to believe it, but post-9/11 claims that "We're Israel now!" just haven't panned out.

In place of more bombs, the last few years have seen a lot of public fights. Victims' families fighting the city, each other and the memorial commission. The city fighting the feds. The architect fighting the developer. The developer fighting the insurance company. Sikhs fighting with strangers. Cops fighting with firemen. Firemen fighting with breathalyzers. There've been so many spats it's hard to believe that for a week or two there, when the air still smelled of burnt plastic, we all got along as if everything had changed, forever. Here's to three more years of public spats and nothing worse.