7 years ago, on this day . . .
I was walking in to work when I saw a plane flying low over the Hudson River. My company was located on the extreme west side of lower Manhattan, just half a mile north of the World Trade Center. Something in the back of my head found the sight of the plane odd, as airliners don't usually fly over that part of Manhattan, and certainly not that low. But as I was running late, I put it out of my head and rushed to get to my office.
7 years ago, on this day . . .
I was in the middle of stacks of tax legislation when I got a phone call from Lisa, telling me to watch the news. She said a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. My immediate thought was: oh, what fool took a joy ride in his prop plane and got himself killed? I thought it was something like the small private plane that had crashed into the Empire State Building not so long ago. Sad and tragic, but didn't do much damage. I wasn't worried. But then she said, no, it was a 747. Now *that* was something entirely different, I admitted. That technically shouldn't be possible, I said, unless it was deliberate. Still, I didn't want to believe it could be terrorist related. Maybe a suicidal pilot? But the news only got worse as the minutes ticked on by. Pretty soon a noticeable buzz started to build up around the office. My co-worker had her radio tuned to the live news broadcast, listening with her headphones on. She told everyone that another plane hit the *other* tower, and that's when folks started to really worry.
7 years ago, on this day . . .
I took a quick break and stepped outside to assess the state of the world. I was expecting people to be going about their business as normal, a reassuring reminder that the rest of the city still chugged to the usual beat despite what might be happening half a mile south. But to my surprise, the streets were a hotbed of chaotic activity. Fire engine after fire engine came roaring down Varick street, followed by motorcades of police patrol cars with their sirens blaring as well. Fire marshals and unmarked detective vehicles joined the fray, and in the air a distinct smell of something burning hung over us. People were leaving their offices and walking in the opposite direction. Surely they were overreacting? Still, I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach, so I cut my break short and rushed back upstairs. By now, the office was in an uproar, too. People wanted to go home, but the higher ups told us all, by mass e-mail, to remain calm and continue working until further notice. They were keeping abreast of the situation.
7 Years ago, on this day . . .
My co-worker took off her headphones and turned to us, her face streaming with tears. One of the towers has fallen, she said. They think the other one will, too. My brain tried to process this impossible news. I had an absurd mental picture of a gigantic, looming office building toppling forward onto all the smaller office buildings around it. I went numb. The phones were ringing off the hook now; one of them was mine. Lisa was worried. She told me that people were being evacuated from the area -- were they letting us leave? No, I said. But I had heard enough. I wasn't staying around any longer, waiting for the company brass to decide my fate for me. Others were of the same mind. Finally the official call came over e-mail to leave the premises and to contact our managers from home to find out when it would be safe to come back. We all powered down our workstations and filed out of the building at once. We didn't know it, but it would be a week before we were allowed to come back.
7 years ago, on this day . . .
I was hoofing it up 6th avenue, heading north. Around five hundred other people crammed around me, trying to do the same thing. I travelled up to West 4th street, then took a shortcut cutting through Washington Square Park and the campuses of NYU. Students and faculty were standing around the steps of the buildings, chatting calmly but obviously confused. No one yet fully understood the magnitude of what had happened. Neither did I, but at that moment I didn't care. I was in pure survival mode, just thinking how in hell I was going to walk up the full length of the island of Manhattan, cross the Harlem River, and then walk 30 more blocks to my highrise in the Bronx. The subways and buses were frozen, mass transit had come to a standstill. The entire lower half of the city was walking east and north with me. At 23rd street I had to decide: do I go east past 1st avenue and work my way up the FDR, or do I go west and walk along the West Side Highway? I imagined the east side route taking me past the U.N. Having a vague knowledge that this had been a terrorist attack, I did not want to chance that the U.N. would not be a target, too. So I made a compromise, I stuck to 5th avenue and continued on north until I hit Central Park. From there I headed east to 1st avenue, and then north again to Harlem. I crossed the barricaded Willis Avenue bridge near 135 street into the Bronx. Buses and trains were not working here, either, so I continued walking home. I walked 10 miles that day in 3.5 hours. A city of dazed and eerily silent zombies had shadowed my movements almost every step of the way. Everyone was in survival mode.
7 years ago, on this day . . .
I sat on the couch all day long, numb and staring at the news reports. Nothing seemed real. From my 10th story apartment, I could see down into the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Not far enough to see the WTC on a normal day, but this was not a normal day. A thick, black plume of smoke rose up from the horizon, testament to how far I had walked that morning. My feet were not as sore as the day my boy scout troop got lost and we ended up walking 15 miles on broken trails with our packs . . . but they were hurt nonetheless. The news reporters kept repeating themselves. A tragedy, a tragedy. Still no word on the Pentagon. Still no word on that 4th plane. A tragedy.
7 years later, on this day . . .
My company has moved locations, this time settling us directly across the street from the World Trade Center and the pit that is Ground Zero. Today is my first 9/11 memorial ceremony so close to the site. The bell just tolled here at around 8:47, filling the entire office with an eerie silence in its wake. One of the most surreal moments of my life, besides the actual event. A lot of folks did not come in today, because they wanted to avoid all the crowds and security that has shut down the side streets around us to vehicular traffic. Later this afternoon McCain and Obama will make an appearance. I brought my lunch with me, so I doubt I'll set foot outside in that zoo until I leave to go home for the day.
They tell us never to forget.
But for me, on this day, it's impossible not to remember.
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