Anniversary
No, not my own. Thursday marks the second anniversary of 9/11. I posted this to the UnaBoard last year, but I thought I'd dust it off and post it here, as well (since I wasn't on LJ at this time last year). I know there are many with more amazing or heroic tales to tell. But this one is mine.
Before.
I had been looking forward to the trip. I love New York - always have, and it had been three years since my last visit. I looked forward to seeing my Manhattan-based co-workers. I thought I might be able to grab tickets to a musical, maybe visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Thursday night, we were planning on going to the Yankees game. While I hate the Yankees, I would have been cheering for them, because they were playing the Chicago White Sox. The White Sox were threatening to overtake my Cleveland Indians in the AL Central division race, and I wanted them to lose, lose, lose.
I arrived Monday evening after a really irritating flight. Non-stop from Phoenix to Newark. Five and a half hours - in the middle seat. Then I go down to get my luggage. Forty-five minutes before stuff even starting coming up the ramp. Ted called me twice while I was waiting - he and Dean were enjoying the free cocktail hour at the Embassy Suites Battery Park, our hotel, and were wondering what the hell was keeping me. Then the car service couldn’t figure out where I was - another twenty minutes. The driver had talk radio on - they were talking about the next day’s mayoral election.
Turned onto the West Side Highway, and there they were, looming before me - monolithic and silent. It was twilight, and raining, so they just stood there, grey against a grey sky. I was glad to see them - they meant I had arrived at the hotel. Checked in, did a very speedy unpacking, changed and went down to meet Ted and Dean. I got there about two minutes before the free cocktail hour ended - had my gin and tonic, and then we went to dinner. I forget what I had - Filet Mignon, perhaps? Then back to the bar for a martini or two. Wandered back up to my room, not entirely sober. Tried to get on the computer without success, tucked it away in the drawer in desk in the bedroom. It would be one hundred days before I saw it again.
Alarm went off at 6:37 (funny how details like that stick with you). Oh, shit - I had to meet Dean and Ted for breakfast at 7:15 - what the hell was I thinking when I set the alarm?! Oh, that’s right - I wasn’t. I was "not entirely sober." And now, I was hung over. Washed hair and dressed quickly, went down only slightly late for breakfast. Ted had checked out and deposited his bag with the bell desk - his parents lived near Lincoln Center, and he would be staying with them for the remainder of his trip. During breakfast, Dean mentioned that skyscrapers were actually quite safe from a fire perspective - fire management systems were so advanced that a Towering Inferno situation was extremely unlikely, unless something extremely catastrophic occurred.
Just over an hour later, we discovered what “extremely catastrophic” entailed.
Breakfast finished. We crossed the street to the World Financial Center and went into our building (the one with the pyramidal top). We signed in with Security (we all still have our temporary passes - dated 9/11/01) and went up to the 30th floor. Our area was on the southeast side of the building, looking toward the Statue of Liberty to the south, and the WTC to the east. We are slightly north of the WTC, so we could clearly see the west side and, at an extreme angle, the north side. It was about ten minutes before 8:00.
And it was ordinary. SO ordinary. I had coffee. I chatted with my co-workers. I checked to make sure that all of the materials I had sent in advance were there and ready to go. I was scheduled to start at 10:00 in the morning - hosting a booth outside the cafeteria on the third floor, informing people about our new web-based service, giving away little freebies - lanyards, post-its, and such. I hadn’t brought my laptop with me that day because I was not going to need it.
In the building
8:46 am.
Someone on the north side of the floor yelled “OH, MY GOD!” A second later, we felt the explosion. Thought it was an earthquake, until someone near the window exclaimed “Holy Shit!” and we raced to the window in time to see the debris falling (which I feared would set our tower on fire) and an enormous fireball rising from the base of the building. And sixty floors above us, a gaping hole in the north face of the Tower, and flame visible in the west side. One floor in particular was burning fiercely.
My co-workers rock. The Director of the department, a young but very capable lad of twenty-eight (seriously) said, “They’re going to need us. We have to help.” We are the Facilities Department, so this kind of thing falls under our jurisdiction. Within about two minutes, the floor emptied of all but administrative personnel. And Dean, and Ted, and me - all of us knew we’d be more of a hindrance than a help.
Called Mr Winnie, who I knew would just be starting to get ready for work. “Turn on the news,” I told him. “There’s been an explosion at the World Trade Center. I’m fine.” He turned on CNN, and said that they were saying that a 737 had flown into it. Dave, the Facility Manager, who had returned to gather up the business continuation materials in case he needed them, said, “That’s impossible. They’re not allowed to fly in this airspace.” We later realized, of course, that the hijackers weren’t really concerned with what they were and were not allowed to do - you’re not allowed to wing a commercial airliner into office buildings, either.
The police response was impressive as well. Within three minutes, the West Side Highway was blocked off, and the building was surrounded by police and fire units.
About five minutes after the explosion, the emergency PA system in our building crackled to life. “Please stay at your workstations. The emergency at One World Trade Center is not affecting the World Financial Center.” I still thought that it was just a terrible accident. But I had confidence that the fires would be put out and the Tower would be repaired. I couldn’t even imagine the alternative.
So I milled about, still planning to stage my event at 10:00, although, as I said to Ted, “Gee - my lanyards are going to be pretty anti-climactic after this.” I kept wandering to the windows on the south side, looking up. I couldn’t see the north side of the Tower from there, but the west side looked as though the fire was burning out. So I went to the east windows to get a better vantage point. Roseanne and I stood there for a minute together. Then…this is how the words came out of my mouth.
“Oh my God, there’s another one!”
(pause)
“It’s UNITED!!”
(pause)
We didn’t see it hit - we were on the wrong side of the building, but we knew that it didn’t come out the other side. We did see flame and debris, though.
Me (loud enough to be heard by every person still on the floor): “What the FUCK are the air traffic controllers doing?!” Hijackers never even entered my head.
Roseanne (sobbing): “I saw it. I saw it. I watched those people DIE!”
Roseanne went home immediately thereafter. Three minutes later, the PA system came back on. “While the World Financial Center remains secure, those employees who wish to evacuate may feel free to do so.” I stayed. Ted and Dean told the Service Desk operators to leave - they said that they would handle the phones. I called Mr Winnie again, he said “Call your parents, and get out of there.” But there was no way I was leaving without Ted and Dean. This was more out of fear of the unknown than bravery - I didn’t want to go out onto the street without SOMEONE I knew. But I called my parents. Ted and Dean were answering the phones. The three of us, we gradually realized, were the last people left on the floor. Marianna came up and said “You are leaving NOW.” She had the freight elevator, and down we went. Out onto the street. We figured…eh, we’ll go into the hotel, sit at the bar, and have a much-deserved drink, even though it’s 9:40 in the morning. Nope. The police officer in front of the hotel said, “The hotel is closed.” “But we’re staying here!” we told him, showing our room keys (I still have mine). “Not now, you aren’t. You’re going sightseeing uptown for about six hours.” He didn’t know what was to come, obviously. Neither did we. Nobody dreamed for a moment that the towers would fall.
On the street
So we’re heading north. Crossing a street, we heard someone near us say that the North Tower shifted nine feet off its foundation with the explosion. We knew that meant that it would have to be pulled down - no way a building that tall can survive that kind of stress.
Someone else yelled, “They’re jumping!” We did not look. We turned resolutely northward, and walked. Ted and Dean each had their heavy laptop bags. I was wearing high heels and pantyhose. Not exactly what one would choose for an evacuation. At one point, we sat down on a bench by the river to rest and try to get a call out to someone, without any luck. That’s when we heard the rumble and the screams, and saw a giant cloud of smoke coming from the back of the North Tower. We were looking at it from exactly the right angle that the South Tower would have been blocked from our view by the North, regardless. I looked at Ted - “Was that the building?” I asked. “I think it was,” he said quietly. We sat for a moment more. “Oh, Jesus,” Ted said. About a minute later, I looked up at the North Tower. “Is it me,” I asked, “or is the building leaning?” “It’s leaning. That’s why I said ‘Oh, Jesus.’” “Umm,” I said, “Let’s walk.” It looked as though it would topple over rather than falling in on itself as it did, and no way were we far enough away from it if that were to happen.
So we walked. As we walked, we tried to phone. All three of us watched our voice mails numbers mounting, wondering at our friends and family leaving us messages. If we were able to get a call out, we certainly wouldn’t be wasting it on voice mail.
Not long after, we heard the screams again, and turned and watched the North Tower collapse. A ghostly forty-story finger of the façade remained for a moment pointing at the heavens, before the stress was too great for it and it, too, joined the rest of the rubble at what would now be known as Ground Zero. We saw the dust roll up the street, but, by this time, we were far enough away. We didn’t get a speck on us.
Less than a minute later, I got a call out. Mr Winnie had watched the South Tower collapse from the TV at work, and said, “My wife is there, I’m going home.” They didn’t argue with him, of course. So he was home when I called. I told him we were all safe, and then started giving him phone numbers of people to call. My parents. My office. Dean’s office. Ted’s office, Ted’s parents uptown (his dad worked the night shift at the WTC and frequently took overtime.) That’s when I heard about the Pentagon - “and there are more planes out there,” he warned.
And...after.
And we continued north, our goal being Ted’s parents’ apartment. We figured we’d have to walk all the way there (and they are north of Lincoln Center, so it was quite a hike). But we got lucky there, too. An off-duty cab stopped at an intersection just as we were starting to cross the street. Ted asked if he’d be kind enough to go back on duty. He said, “I can’t take you down there.” We assured him that we didn’t want him to.
While we were in the cab, my Mom managed to get a call through to me. She asked where I was. “In a cab headed uptown,” I said without thinking about it. She was shocked - it sounded so…ordinary.
She told me later that my brother had been staying at their house that day, as he and Dad were going to work on his car that day. She and Dad had a real estate class that morning, and were concerned that they’d leave for the class and Dan would wake up, turn on the TV, and be worried about me. So she woke him up, saying, “Terrorists have flown planes in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The Trade Towers have collapsed. Your sister’s fine, we’re at war. Go back to sleep.” Dan jolted awake saying, “What?! What?! As though I can go back to sleep NOW.”
Ted’s parents took us in with open arms (especially since Mr Winnie had finally managed to get through to them and tell them Ted was okay). I called the office - told my boss I was going to be buying clothes and toiletries and expensing them. He said “As long as you don’t raid Saks, I’m fine with it.” Went out a little later to get our toiletries, and shoes for me. Clothing stores were all closed. We’d already discovered that every hotel room in Manhattan was booked, and so was every rental car. Came back, watched more news, drank some single-malt scotch in a plastic bottle. It was good. Not very hungry, but ate Ted’s mom’s spaghetti, and went to bed.
The next day, we managed to buy some clothes (a mountain-gear store was the only place open - they did not sell underwear), cellphone chargers and other stuff. Managed to get hotel rooms for Dean and me in the area, as people were leaving, and no one was coming in. By Friday, our hotel was getting pretty empty. Thursday night around 1:00 am, the rains came. Thunder and lightning. Terrifying - sounded like a building blowing up, and, in fact, I thought that’s what it was until I looked out the window and saw the lightning. Ted said he thought the same thing, and then had nightmares the likes of which he hadn’t had in thirty years. I didn’t sleep.
Over the next few days, I wandered around the Lincoln Center area - frequently alone. Dean and Ted were at our facility across the river, working on getting things back up and running as quickly as possible. As the communications manager, I really had no reason to be there, and Ted was concerned that I’d freak out because the other facility was directly across from downtown Manhattan. It was Friday before any store was open for me to buy underwear. Saturday, Ted and I were supposed to leave. Actually, we’d been booked to leave Friday, but that was before, and we knew damn well on Wednesday that we wouldn’t be leaving Friday. Saturday morning, Ted called me. “I just talked to America West. We can’t leave today. Our flight has been cancelled - so have all of the cross-country flights. Short hops only.” “So, what are you doing today, then?” I asked. “Going back to 90 Hudson.” “Ted, you’re not leaving me behind this time.” “Okay - I’ll meet you and Dean downstairs in an hour.”
During the hour, I called the airline and booked short hops for the next day. Newark to Columbus, Ohio. Columbus to Vegas. Vegas to Phoenix. It would take me twelve hours to get home, but it would be worth it.
Spent the day at 90 Hudson Street. It was actually quite good - my New York co-workers were there, and there was some…closure…seeing them. Nobody from our group died or was injured. A dozen employees from the company died - they were the Client Services group, and they were on the 101st floor of Tower 1 that morning. None of us knew them. Our National Director spent the entire day trying to tell me that I needed to talk to the Employee Assistance Program to help me get past the tragedy. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him I was fine, coping well, and didn’t need the help. Oh, well.
I left Sunday. They had started non-stop flights up again, and got me on one. It was four hours late, so I hung out in the bar (which had just reopened that day), drinking beer, talking with others who were flying back to Phoenix. To my surprise, I was the only one who had been downtown that day. Knowing that there would be no food on the flight, I got a hot dog. Plastic knife. Oddly, I made it through the security checkpoint with a metal corkscrew in my bag. The guys I was sitting with and I agreed on a password and battle plan in the event of any kind of problem. We got on the plane - the airline gave us a free drink (I ordered a Bloody Mary. Hmm. Can o’ tomato juice and tiny bottle of vodka. That ain’t a Bloody Mary in my book.) Played the movie free - “A Knight’s Tale.” Plane was, to my surprise, fairly empty. Struck up a conversation with a guy across the aisle from me. He’s a photographer. Shows us some of his work - ah. He’s a photographer for Penthouse. Another passenger and I took pleasure in picking out the fake boobs on the models.
My brother works at Duty Free and has security clearance. He met me at the gate. My parents and Mr Winnie were at the end of the concourse. We hugged, and cried. And…went home.
A couple more stray things I've remembered as I think about it.
Standing around watching, with idle curiosity, what happened after the first plane hit. There was a bit of fire in various places on the roof of the Marriott. Also, a parking lot just south of the Towers. I saw a small building in the parking lot smolder a bit, and was thinking "Gee, I hope none of those cars catch fire - a gas explosion would be bad."
Watching people stream out of both Towers toward the pier.
At Ted's parents' apartment, watching out the window at the Red Cross building across the street - hordes of people showing up to give blood and offer help.
The panic-stricken, hysterical voice mail my mother left me when she saw the Towers come down. They didn't realize that we'd had the freight elevator, and thought that I would have still been close enough that I might have been hurt or killed. I listened to my voice mail the next day and cried.
Dogs. People evacuating apartments in Battery Park City brought their dogs, on leashes and in carriers, though they carried nothing else with them.
In a very weird way, though, I am extremely glad that I was there. Previous tragedies never really sank in for me. OKC and TWA 800 were greeted with reactions like, "Oh, gee, how terrible! Those poor people! Pass the potatoes, please." Seeing it unfold right before my eyes really made a difference in my perception, and will probably continue to every time something like this happens for the rest of my life.
Aftermath
I am no longer with Amex - I was separated nearly a year ago. Ted has become persona non grata there, also. Dean is still there, but mourns the loss of the great work environment it used to be. But when I see the Amex Tower, whether in person or in a photograph or video, I still think of it as "my" building. I know the guys hanging the flag in picture 22. (Requires Acrobat Reader to view.)
It still hurts to see movies that show glimpses of the towers.
I am now terrified of tall buildings. Including just looking up at them. I went up the Washington Monument with Ed in January. While I was up there, all I wanted in the world was to be back on the ground. With luck, I'll never have to go up in another. Of course, I've always been afraid of flying. Now it's worse.
Ted's mother died on August 28th this year - less than two weeks ago. In addition to the anniversary, he has his own mourning to deal with on Thursday.
Ted and Dean and I remain close and dear friends. The sort of friends who may not talk frequently, but who know that, if there's ever a need, the others will rally without question.
Before.
I had been looking forward to the trip. I love New York - always have, and it had been three years since my last visit. I looked forward to seeing my Manhattan-based co-workers. I thought I might be able to grab tickets to a musical, maybe visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Thursday night, we were planning on going to the Yankees game. While I hate the Yankees, I would have been cheering for them, because they were playing the Chicago White Sox. The White Sox were threatening to overtake my Cleveland Indians in the AL Central division race, and I wanted them to lose, lose, lose.
I arrived Monday evening after a really irritating flight. Non-stop from Phoenix to Newark. Five and a half hours - in the middle seat. Then I go down to get my luggage. Forty-five minutes before stuff even starting coming up the ramp. Ted called me twice while I was waiting - he and Dean were enjoying the free cocktail hour at the Embassy Suites Battery Park, our hotel, and were wondering what the hell was keeping me. Then the car service couldn’t figure out where I was - another twenty minutes. The driver had talk radio on - they were talking about the next day’s mayoral election.
Turned onto the West Side Highway, and there they were, looming before me - monolithic and silent. It was twilight, and raining, so they just stood there, grey against a grey sky. I was glad to see them - they meant I had arrived at the hotel. Checked in, did a very speedy unpacking, changed and went down to meet Ted and Dean. I got there about two minutes before the free cocktail hour ended - had my gin and tonic, and then we went to dinner. I forget what I had - Filet Mignon, perhaps? Then back to the bar for a martini or two. Wandered back up to my room, not entirely sober. Tried to get on the computer without success, tucked it away in the drawer in desk in the bedroom. It would be one hundred days before I saw it again.
Alarm went off at 6:37 (funny how details like that stick with you). Oh, shit - I had to meet Dean and Ted for breakfast at 7:15 - what the hell was I thinking when I set the alarm?! Oh, that’s right - I wasn’t. I was "not entirely sober." And now, I was hung over. Washed hair and dressed quickly, went down only slightly late for breakfast. Ted had checked out and deposited his bag with the bell desk - his parents lived near Lincoln Center, and he would be staying with them for the remainder of his trip. During breakfast, Dean mentioned that skyscrapers were actually quite safe from a fire perspective - fire management systems were so advanced that a Towering Inferno situation was extremely unlikely, unless something extremely catastrophic occurred.
Just over an hour later, we discovered what “extremely catastrophic” entailed.
Breakfast finished. We crossed the street to the World Financial Center and went into our building (the one with the pyramidal top). We signed in with Security (we all still have our temporary passes - dated 9/11/01) and went up to the 30th floor. Our area was on the southeast side of the building, looking toward the Statue of Liberty to the south, and the WTC to the east. We are slightly north of the WTC, so we could clearly see the west side and, at an extreme angle, the north side. It was about ten minutes before 8:00.
And it was ordinary. SO ordinary. I had coffee. I chatted with my co-workers. I checked to make sure that all of the materials I had sent in advance were there and ready to go. I was scheduled to start at 10:00 in the morning - hosting a booth outside the cafeteria on the third floor, informing people about our new web-based service, giving away little freebies - lanyards, post-its, and such. I hadn’t brought my laptop with me that day because I was not going to need it.
In the building
8:46 am.
Someone on the north side of the floor yelled “OH, MY GOD!” A second later, we felt the explosion. Thought it was an earthquake, until someone near the window exclaimed “Holy Shit!” and we raced to the window in time to see the debris falling (which I feared would set our tower on fire) and an enormous fireball rising from the base of the building. And sixty floors above us, a gaping hole in the north face of the Tower, and flame visible in the west side. One floor in particular was burning fiercely.
My co-workers rock. The Director of the department, a young but very capable lad of twenty-eight (seriously) said, “They’re going to need us. We have to help.” We are the Facilities Department, so this kind of thing falls under our jurisdiction. Within about two minutes, the floor emptied of all but administrative personnel. And Dean, and Ted, and me - all of us knew we’d be more of a hindrance than a help.
Called Mr Winnie, who I knew would just be starting to get ready for work. “Turn on the news,” I told him. “There’s been an explosion at the World Trade Center. I’m fine.” He turned on CNN, and said that they were saying that a 737 had flown into it. Dave, the Facility Manager, who had returned to gather up the business continuation materials in case he needed them, said, “That’s impossible. They’re not allowed to fly in this airspace.” We later realized, of course, that the hijackers weren’t really concerned with what they were and were not allowed to do - you’re not allowed to wing a commercial airliner into office buildings, either.
The police response was impressive as well. Within three minutes, the West Side Highway was blocked off, and the building was surrounded by police and fire units.
About five minutes after the explosion, the emergency PA system in our building crackled to life. “Please stay at your workstations. The emergency at One World Trade Center is not affecting the World Financial Center.” I still thought that it was just a terrible accident. But I had confidence that the fires would be put out and the Tower would be repaired. I couldn’t even imagine the alternative.
So I milled about, still planning to stage my event at 10:00, although, as I said to Ted, “Gee - my lanyards are going to be pretty anti-climactic after this.” I kept wandering to the windows on the south side, looking up. I couldn’t see the north side of the Tower from there, but the west side looked as though the fire was burning out. So I went to the east windows to get a better vantage point. Roseanne and I stood there for a minute together. Then…this is how the words came out of my mouth.
“Oh my God, there’s another one!”
(pause)
“It’s UNITED!!”
(pause)
We didn’t see it hit - we were on the wrong side of the building, but we knew that it didn’t come out the other side. We did see flame and debris, though.
Me (loud enough to be heard by every person still on the floor): “What the FUCK are the air traffic controllers doing?!” Hijackers never even entered my head.
Roseanne (sobbing): “I saw it. I saw it. I watched those people DIE!”
Roseanne went home immediately thereafter. Three minutes later, the PA system came back on. “While the World Financial Center remains secure, those employees who wish to evacuate may feel free to do so.” I stayed. Ted and Dean told the Service Desk operators to leave - they said that they would handle the phones. I called Mr Winnie again, he said “Call your parents, and get out of there.” But there was no way I was leaving without Ted and Dean. This was more out of fear of the unknown than bravery - I didn’t want to go out onto the street without SOMEONE I knew. But I called my parents. Ted and Dean were answering the phones. The three of us, we gradually realized, were the last people left on the floor. Marianna came up and said “You are leaving NOW.” She had the freight elevator, and down we went. Out onto the street. We figured…eh, we’ll go into the hotel, sit at the bar, and have a much-deserved drink, even though it’s 9:40 in the morning. Nope. The police officer in front of the hotel said, “The hotel is closed.” “But we’re staying here!” we told him, showing our room keys (I still have mine). “Not now, you aren’t. You’re going sightseeing uptown for about six hours.” He didn’t know what was to come, obviously. Neither did we. Nobody dreamed for a moment that the towers would fall.
On the street
So we’re heading north. Crossing a street, we heard someone near us say that the North Tower shifted nine feet off its foundation with the explosion. We knew that meant that it would have to be pulled down - no way a building that tall can survive that kind of stress.
Someone else yelled, “They’re jumping!” We did not look. We turned resolutely northward, and walked. Ted and Dean each had their heavy laptop bags. I was wearing high heels and pantyhose. Not exactly what one would choose for an evacuation. At one point, we sat down on a bench by the river to rest and try to get a call out to someone, without any luck. That’s when we heard the rumble and the screams, and saw a giant cloud of smoke coming from the back of the North Tower. We were looking at it from exactly the right angle that the South Tower would have been blocked from our view by the North, regardless. I looked at Ted - “Was that the building?” I asked. “I think it was,” he said quietly. We sat for a moment more. “Oh, Jesus,” Ted said. About a minute later, I looked up at the North Tower. “Is it me,” I asked, “or is the building leaning?” “It’s leaning. That’s why I said ‘Oh, Jesus.’” “Umm,” I said, “Let’s walk.” It looked as though it would topple over rather than falling in on itself as it did, and no way were we far enough away from it if that were to happen.
So we walked. As we walked, we tried to phone. All three of us watched our voice mails numbers mounting, wondering at our friends and family leaving us messages. If we were able to get a call out, we certainly wouldn’t be wasting it on voice mail.
Not long after, we heard the screams again, and turned and watched the North Tower collapse. A ghostly forty-story finger of the façade remained for a moment pointing at the heavens, before the stress was too great for it and it, too, joined the rest of the rubble at what would now be known as Ground Zero. We saw the dust roll up the street, but, by this time, we were far enough away. We didn’t get a speck on us.
Less than a minute later, I got a call out. Mr Winnie had watched the South Tower collapse from the TV at work, and said, “My wife is there, I’m going home.” They didn’t argue with him, of course. So he was home when I called. I told him we were all safe, and then started giving him phone numbers of people to call. My parents. My office. Dean’s office. Ted’s office, Ted’s parents uptown (his dad worked the night shift at the WTC and frequently took overtime.) That’s when I heard about the Pentagon - “and there are more planes out there,” he warned.
And...after.
And we continued north, our goal being Ted’s parents’ apartment. We figured we’d have to walk all the way there (and they are north of Lincoln Center, so it was quite a hike). But we got lucky there, too. An off-duty cab stopped at an intersection just as we were starting to cross the street. Ted asked if he’d be kind enough to go back on duty. He said, “I can’t take you down there.” We assured him that we didn’t want him to.
While we were in the cab, my Mom managed to get a call through to me. She asked where I was. “In a cab headed uptown,” I said without thinking about it. She was shocked - it sounded so…ordinary.
She told me later that my brother had been staying at their house that day, as he and Dad were going to work on his car that day. She and Dad had a real estate class that morning, and were concerned that they’d leave for the class and Dan would wake up, turn on the TV, and be worried about me. So she woke him up, saying, “Terrorists have flown planes in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The Trade Towers have collapsed. Your sister’s fine, we’re at war. Go back to sleep.” Dan jolted awake saying, “What?! What?! As though I can go back to sleep NOW.”
Ted’s parents took us in with open arms (especially since Mr Winnie had finally managed to get through to them and tell them Ted was okay). I called the office - told my boss I was going to be buying clothes and toiletries and expensing them. He said “As long as you don’t raid Saks, I’m fine with it.” Went out a little later to get our toiletries, and shoes for me. Clothing stores were all closed. We’d already discovered that every hotel room in Manhattan was booked, and so was every rental car. Came back, watched more news, drank some single-malt scotch in a plastic bottle. It was good. Not very hungry, but ate Ted’s mom’s spaghetti, and went to bed.
The next day, we managed to buy some clothes (a mountain-gear store was the only place open - they did not sell underwear), cellphone chargers and other stuff. Managed to get hotel rooms for Dean and me in the area, as people were leaving, and no one was coming in. By Friday, our hotel was getting pretty empty. Thursday night around 1:00 am, the rains came. Thunder and lightning. Terrifying - sounded like a building blowing up, and, in fact, I thought that’s what it was until I looked out the window and saw the lightning. Ted said he thought the same thing, and then had nightmares the likes of which he hadn’t had in thirty years. I didn’t sleep.
Over the next few days, I wandered around the Lincoln Center area - frequently alone. Dean and Ted were at our facility across the river, working on getting things back up and running as quickly as possible. As the communications manager, I really had no reason to be there, and Ted was concerned that I’d freak out because the other facility was directly across from downtown Manhattan. It was Friday before any store was open for me to buy underwear. Saturday, Ted and I were supposed to leave. Actually, we’d been booked to leave Friday, but that was before, and we knew damn well on Wednesday that we wouldn’t be leaving Friday. Saturday morning, Ted called me. “I just talked to America West. We can’t leave today. Our flight has been cancelled - so have all of the cross-country flights. Short hops only.” “So, what are you doing today, then?” I asked. “Going back to 90 Hudson.” “Ted, you’re not leaving me behind this time.” “Okay - I’ll meet you and Dean downstairs in an hour.”
During the hour, I called the airline and booked short hops for the next day. Newark to Columbus, Ohio. Columbus to Vegas. Vegas to Phoenix. It would take me twelve hours to get home, but it would be worth it.
Spent the day at 90 Hudson Street. It was actually quite good - my New York co-workers were there, and there was some…closure…seeing them. Nobody from our group died or was injured. A dozen employees from the company died - they were the Client Services group, and they were on the 101st floor of Tower 1 that morning. None of us knew them. Our National Director spent the entire day trying to tell me that I needed to talk to the Employee Assistance Program to help me get past the tragedy. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him I was fine, coping well, and didn’t need the help. Oh, well.
I left Sunday. They had started non-stop flights up again, and got me on one. It was four hours late, so I hung out in the bar (which had just reopened that day), drinking beer, talking with others who were flying back to Phoenix. To my surprise, I was the only one who had been downtown that day. Knowing that there would be no food on the flight, I got a hot dog. Plastic knife. Oddly, I made it through the security checkpoint with a metal corkscrew in my bag. The guys I was sitting with and I agreed on a password and battle plan in the event of any kind of problem. We got on the plane - the airline gave us a free drink (I ordered a Bloody Mary. Hmm. Can o’ tomato juice and tiny bottle of vodka. That ain’t a Bloody Mary in my book.) Played the movie free - “A Knight’s Tale.” Plane was, to my surprise, fairly empty. Struck up a conversation with a guy across the aisle from me. He’s a photographer. Shows us some of his work - ah. He’s a photographer for Penthouse. Another passenger and I took pleasure in picking out the fake boobs on the models.
My brother works at Duty Free and has security clearance. He met me at the gate. My parents and Mr Winnie were at the end of the concourse. We hugged, and cried. And…went home.
A couple more stray things I've remembered as I think about it.
Standing around watching, with idle curiosity, what happened after the first plane hit. There was a bit of fire in various places on the roof of the Marriott. Also, a parking lot just south of the Towers. I saw a small building in the parking lot smolder a bit, and was thinking "Gee, I hope none of those cars catch fire - a gas explosion would be bad."
Watching people stream out of both Towers toward the pier.
At Ted's parents' apartment, watching out the window at the Red Cross building across the street - hordes of people showing up to give blood and offer help.
The panic-stricken, hysterical voice mail my mother left me when she saw the Towers come down. They didn't realize that we'd had the freight elevator, and thought that I would have still been close enough that I might have been hurt or killed. I listened to my voice mail the next day and cried.
Dogs. People evacuating apartments in Battery Park City brought their dogs, on leashes and in carriers, though they carried nothing else with them.
In a very weird way, though, I am extremely glad that I was there. Previous tragedies never really sank in for me. OKC and TWA 800 were greeted with reactions like, "Oh, gee, how terrible! Those poor people! Pass the potatoes, please." Seeing it unfold right before my eyes really made a difference in my perception, and will probably continue to every time something like this happens for the rest of my life.
Aftermath
I am no longer with Amex - I was separated nearly a year ago. Ted has become persona non grata there, also. Dean is still there, but mourns the loss of the great work environment it used to be. But when I see the Amex Tower, whether in person or in a photograph or video, I still think of it as "my" building. I know the guys hanging the flag in picture 22. (Requires Acrobat Reader to view.)
It still hurts to see movies that show glimpses of the towers.
I am now terrified of tall buildings. Including just looking up at them. I went up the Washington Monument with Ed in January. While I was up there, all I wanted in the world was to be back on the ground. With luck, I'll never have to go up in another. Of course, I've always been afraid of flying. Now it's worse.
Ted's mother died on August 28th this year - less than two weeks ago. In addition to the anniversary, he has his own mourning to deal with on Thursday.
Ted and Dean and I remain close and dear friends. The sort of friends who may not talk frequently, but who know that, if there's ever a need, the others will rally without question.