We'd been in the NY area about 2 and a half years on 9/11/01. We lived in North Jersey, but both K and I worked in the city. Like a lot of folks in the area, the towers were just part of everyday life. We could see them from our 11th floor balcony in Clifton, NJ. We'd dined in the towers, at the Windows on the World restaurant, on our honeymoon in March 2000. There's nothing like sitting flush against a floor to ceiling window 107 stories up. My daily commute often took me either directly into the trade centers via the PATH train, or directly under them on the subway. I used to shop in the Mall below the towers on the way home from work. I had actually intended to go to a concert put on by a friend of mine in the courtyard between the towers on Sept 10, 2001, but had to back out. I'd had a horrible interview in WTC1 with Empire Blue Cross on the 26th floor in June 2001, and was working about two blocks south of the towers in September.
By a stroke of luck, I was working from home on September 11, because I was scheduled to fly out of Newark the next day. But K was in the city. With her permission, I'm re-printing part of her journal written shortly afterwards, recounting the day. In the grand scheme of things, it's a sort of mundane slice of life... no one we knew personally was lost, only friends and family of other friends. In a practical sense, it was mostly an inconvenience... my subway stop got blown up. (I read that the landing gear from the first plane landed in front of my building on Trinity Place, but I've never had that corroborated.)
So here are her recollections, written in October or November of 2001.
The morning of Tuesday September 11, 2001, John was working from home, and I was on my way into the city on the NJ Transit bus. I arrived at the Port Authority bus terminal about 9 AM. People were gathered around a couple televisions as I walked thru the building. I was in a hurry to get to work and didn’t stop to see what the concern was.
Continuing across town to my office at 50th Street and 6th Avenue, I heard people talking about a plane crash but didn’t really think much about it. When I reached my desk and turned on the radio, I heard the incredible news. Two planes had been hijacked and crashed into the World Trade Center. I called John and told him the news. He looked out on our balcony on the 11th floor and could see the smoke. People in the office quickly gathered in the HR director’s office to watch the news on TV. The pictures were unreal. We could even see the smoke from downtown out of our windows.
Soon the report came of a plane hitting the Pentagon. At first I thought it was a wild rumor – it was just too unbelievable. But it was true. The phone lines were down and cell phone lines were jammed. I couldn’t reach John, although we could still talk via Instant Messenger over the Internet. I told him we decided we should leave the office, and I would be with some co-workers then signed off.
At first we thought we would go to the apartment of a friend of a co-worker who lived around 30th Street. However, news reports started to say that dust and debris from the towers were coming down as far as the upper 20’s. We decided that going downtown was not the best idea. My co-worker S and I both lived in NJ and chose to head to the ferry. From Hoboken we could get a train to West Orange for her and Clifton for me. Subways and tunnels were shut down. Taking the ferry or walking to the George Washington Bridge were the only ways to get to NJ.
We walked cross-town to 12th Avenue and followed crowds of other people to the ferry pier at 34th Street. Streams of people were walking north to the ferry and even further uptown. The lines for the ferries wound around and around each other. We walked up and down for blocks looking for an end. I thought we would be in line for hours. I was cursing my fancy high-heel shoes. After walking about 2 miles and standing for 3 hours in line for the ferry, my feet were in sorry shape. S gave me a pair of her yoga socks, and another man in line gave me a handful of tissues to pad the socks.
We listened to my Walkman while in line. Hearing the news reports of the collapse of the towers, the continuing fire at the Pentagon and a fourth plane unaccounted for after all domestic flights were grounded. S was able to reach her husband’s voice mail (he was an elementary school teacher) via her cell phone. I wasn’t able to get through to John to tell him of our change in plan. If worst came to worst, I could walk home from the Clifton train station. We weren’t in line nearly as long as I feared. After about 3 hours we boarded the Circle Line ferry to Hoboken and were on our way across the river. (The ride was free. The ferry operators did an amazing job of keeping the line flowing and staying calm.)
The view of the towers billowing smoke was awesome. Nearly everyone on the ferry fell silent and turned to look. At the Hoboken train terminal, S and I went our separate ways. I boarded the train to Clifton, which wasn't due to leave for another 45 minutes. The train continued to fill and they held it beyond its scheduled departure in order to accommodate the scores of “refugees” from the city. While waiting to depart though, there was a bomb scare. The terminal was evacuated. It was probably the scariest part of the day – people were pushing to get off the train, screaming and running from the building. But it was only a false alarm. Once the building was cleared and we were allowed back on the train, it departed shortly thereafter.
I realized my nerves were a bit frayed (and my feet full of bleeding blisters) when I was finally able to sigh in relief at the departure of the train. But I still had to reach John to tell him where I was and to meet me at the train station. I borrowed a cell phone from another passenger and was able to get through. I told John (to his relief) that I would be in Clifton by 3:30 PM. We stopped at the drug store on the way to get some Epsom salts for my battered feet. What a relief to finally be home! We watched the news for the rest of the day – still unbelieving. We could see the smoke pouring along the horizon – smoke that lingered for over a week and could be seen from space. The tunnels were still closed on Wednesday, and we stayed home from work. Thursday the Lincoln Tunnel opened and I was back to the city to work.
However, we didn’t get much done for the rest of that week. The 24/7 news coverage continued for 4 days afterward. The fires continued to burn deep inside the rubble for weeks. In the days that followed we reached out to friends and family to let them know we were okay. One of John’s former co-workers, who was last to check-in, lived in Battery Park City just blocks from the towers. She actually slept through the attacks and was roused by her husband calling, telling her to get out. Fortunately none of our acquaintances were hurt or worse in the events.
One interesting bit left out of there. K took the bus to work every day, and along the route it goes along a helix that offers a great view of the full length of the city. The first plane hit about 8:48 or so, which would have been just around the time her bus was going over the helix. But this being NY, land of the jaded locals, NO ONE on the bus looked up and noticed the flaming building. Now, it could be that the timing was off, but there's something almost archtypically poetic about an entire bus full of people too engrossed to even glance at the largest terrorist attack in history. As proof that I never quite blended as a local, I stared out the window like a puppy dog with his tongue out every time I took the bus. (I also stare out the window a lot on plane rides.)
As I'd alluded to above, it's been tough for us to relate to the event outside of the context of its local impact and pragmatic effects on our lives. The idea that two buildings getting knocked down in New York affects the nation, let alone the world, feels kind of foreign. And in that sense, aspects of the whole thing still feel a little unreal. It's not a reaction I've fully gotten my own head around yet.
Anyway, here are some of our pictures.
The was our view before the attacks. We were maybe 10 or 11 miles out as the crow flies. At dusk, the setting sun would reflect AMAZING colors off the towers.
This is about 9:15 am, just after the 2nd plane hit. This is the first time I was aware anything was going on.
About 10:30 am, just after the 2nd tower collapsed.
About 2 pm, smoke still billowing.
The smoke at dusk.
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