September 11 attacks, 2001, by a New Yorker

From MemoryArchive

Who: Anonymous
What: September 11 attacks
When: Sept. 11, 2001
Where: New York City

September 11th was a day of surreal chaos. It's funny the ways in which these things hit you. I wasn't struck by the magnitude of what had happened until I walked out of the battlefield wasteland that used to be the financial district and saw a makeshift blood donation center in a park. A few ambulances and gurneys. People lined up. Other people holding up handwritten signs for AB-, O+ and such. Beyond that some construction workers gather supplies, presumably for the rescue efforts. There were tables set up with fresh water and snacks for people who needed them. I saw a table in front of a fire station with a phone sitting on it and sign saying, "Need to make a phone call?" Finally I come to the police barricade set up to hold back the throngs of gawkers trying to get a closer look. It was at this point that I started wandering the streets of NYC struck by the reality that 10,000 people probably just died, close enough for me to watch it happen. Wandering the streets covered in dust, catching snatches of conversation about the f**king Arabs, noticing people looking at my dust-covered clothes.

At one point earlier in the day, I broke down crying thinking about my friend Jas. Jas works in one of the builings directly adjacent the WTC, and the very real possiblity existed that he might be dead. Jas might be dead! The thought of that was more than I could bear. (I just heard word from him about and hour ago. Thank God.)

It was another banal day at work yesterday morning. I came in about 8:35am, five minutes late again. Had a voice mail waiting for me from my boss from last night. Something that needed doing first thing in the morning. She wouldn't be coming in until later. Check my email. More drama from an ex-girlfriend I thought would be a good idea to get back in touch with. Settle down to get started working. Someone comes running down the hall blabbering something about the World Trade Center and an airplane. Typical over-reaction, it's probably nothing. Regardless, I wander over the window to see what's going on and see a gaping hole in the side of the building belching flames and smoke. All I can think about is the movie Brazil. Almost all of the debris fluttering around my office building is paper, files dislodged because of the explosion. When I see the second plane buzz by my office, bank around, and smash into the other tower in a huge explosion, I feel like I'm watching a movie. Everything was in slow-motion, huge fireball, very spectacular. Watching the events on TV, complete with comentary, then seeing the actual thing out the window somehow adds to the unreality of it all.

The other people in my office are milling about confused. Should we stay and get back to work? Should we go home? I think most of the people feel the same way about it as I do, most of them preferring to watch the events on TV rather than out the window. It feels so far away even though it's so close. Sarah is fighting to hold back tears f**king terrified and babbling about how we need to get the hell out of here. I put a hand on her shoulder and tell her to go home; it's ridiculous for us to stay here. She stands transfixed by the news reports, hugging herself, holding back tears.

I go back to my desk wondering what to do. It's announced that the office is closed and we should go home. I call my dad to tell him I'm okay. I figure the worst is over. The attack is done. I'm safe. I'll wait until the chaos of people trying to get home dies down before I try to get out of there, so I talk to my dad a bit, respond to some emails from people asking if I'm alright, try to get a hold of people who might be worried about me.

Eventually, I go downstairs and outside, start smoking a cigarette. There's still a lot of people milling about in front of the building. I try to call some friends on my cell phone. All circuits are busy at this time. I'm pondering the mob in front of me when everyone starts running. No one knows where to run to. Everyone is just following everyone else. I hear people talk about how the tower has collapsed as they scurry by, and I feel a twinge of real fear thinking that the skyscraper has actually fallen over. It's tall enough that it would have fallen very close where I was. I'm not sure what to do seeing the futility of just blindly running. When I see the cloud the dust billowing towards me, I hurriedly make my way back inside.

Back in my office on the 38th floor, it's dark as night outside. The dust obscurs everything. We are all asked to gather in the 37th floor conference center. I talk to someone covered in debris. He was caught in the dust cloud trying to walk home and forced to come back to the office. Other people are relating their stories of coming out of the commuter train station in the basement of the WTC when the first plane hit. Slow trudging up the escalator turned into frantic running as rescue worker yell at people to get the hell out of there. Others are trying to figure out how to get home to New Jersey or upstate New York as much of the city's public transit and roads are shut down.

We all sit in a conference room drinking coffee and munching pastries. CNN is continually blaring on the projector TV giving constant commentary on what's happening right outside. I start crying thinking about Jas. All I want is to be among friends, drinking a beer, ignoring the reality I'm caught in, but I'm stuck in this building until the smoke clears enough outside for me to be able to breathe. I'm reminded of Burning Man, and I wish that I had the mask and goggles that were a constant accessorie out in the desert. I just want to get the f**k out of there.

People are lined up to use the phone. All circuits are busy at this time. When It's my turn, I pull out my palm pilot and try to call everyone I know. Reaching people in Idaho, Oregon, California is no problem. Reaching people in NYC is nearly impossible, but I manage to get through to a few. Everyone is relieved to know I'm still alive.

Milling about the office waiting for the dust to settle. I manage to sneak onto a computer for a bit and reply to emails from people asking if I'm okay. Everyone is eerily calm. Reality hasn't really sunk in. People are more concerned with how they're going to get home.

By 2pm the air is fairly clear, even though smoke is still rising from where the WTC once stood. I'm one of the last people to leave the office. Outside, I smoke a cigarette then tie a t-shirt from my gym bag around my face. None of the buildings where I am are damaged, but everything is covered with dust and debris. Very few people are out on the street. The entire landscape is transformed.

Walking out of the disaster area police usher me away from the location of primary destruction, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a pile of rubble obscurred by smoke and fire. I'm in a slight state of shock. I'm just walking without any definite destination in mind.

After the blood donation center, after the police barricade, back in the "normal" world, I find myself a couple blocks from Deborah's apartment. It takes about five or six tries, but I finally get through to her on my cell and invite myself over. Once there, she's throwing things into a bag on her way out of Manhattan. She's spending the night at a friend's in Brooklyn. He freaked her out with thoughts of continued terrorist attacks, anthrax, nerve gas, and insisted that she spend the night with him, away from the epicenter of these phantom attacks. She's in a panic, the valium she took just muddying her mind and not calming her nerves. I calm her down and walk her to one of the few subway lines that are running. She promises to take me out for drinks tomorrow night.

I go to Edward's next, not wanting to take the long journey home. He has spent all day watching the news, popping valium, and drinking beer. I join him in the valium and beer and ask that the TV be turned off. I'm sick of thinking about what's happened today. We watch Golden Girls instead. It's about 8pm and people are finally starting to be able to get through to me on my cell phone. My roommate calls and is glad to know I'm not hurt. She tells me I've got a ton of messages and my boss called to say there would be no work tomorrow. no shit A few other people call. Erin is on her way to [[WP:CanadaCanada with her boyfriend and Tae is spending the night in a hotel in Manhattan. The city is still mostly closed off.

Edward lives on 10th street and the city has been closed south of 14th. We go out looking for some food and McDonald's is about the only thing open. There's line going out the door and down the block. We manage to find a bougie little bistro selling over-priced hamburgers. I enjoy my first meal since breakfast.

I spent last night on Edward's couch being too exhausted to want to try to get home. I got up late this morning to coffee, more news of what's happening, and more emails from people wondering how I'm doing. Part of me is happy about not having to go to work today. Edward's boyfriend had to go in. He works in mid-town. The reality of what happened still hasn't fully sunk in. Stuff like this happens every day in Beirut, right? It's strange not seeing the [[WP:World Trade Center|twin towers] rising above the NYC skyline anymore.