Ten years ago today, at approximately 8:45 AM, I was standing in the Rector Street subway station in lower Manhattan waiting for the 1/9 train. Unbeknownst to me and the rest of those on the platform with me, hell was being unleashed about two blocks north and 90 stories up. Despite the chaos occurring just north of where I was, I actually made it to work in Midtown by taking what was probably one of the last trains to pass directly below the WTC. Thus began the day's odyssey of simply trying to get back home, which would prove impossible since the entire neighborhood of Battery Park City, where we lived, had become a war zone. When I eventually was able to meet Sandy at a friend's apartment after the madness of that day, I posted my thoughts on the politics forum of a financial Web site that I frequently visited in those days (the post is still there):
I live three blocks south of what was the World Trade Center. The subway I take to work passes directly under it. Until a few months ago, I used the World Trade Center stop. I chided my wife for being lazy when she started using the next stop, saving herself walking an extra five minutes, but I began to take it as well.
I left my apartment this morning at 8:40, a few minutes before the first plane crashed into the north tower. As I descended the stairs to the platform, I noticed nothing unusual outside. (The WTC was in sight of my stop.) I had to wait about 10 minutes for the train, which was unusual but not unprecedented. Once in the train, it was announced that we would bypass the WTC stop. Still, I did not consider this unusual, as the trains will often skip a few stops to make up time. However, I did think it odd that the train skipped only the WTC stop.
It was not until I got to work at 9:20 that I heard the news. I instantly called my wife, who was still at home asleep. I left a message on our answering machine, urging her to call me at work. Within a few minutes she called me back, and as I had no source of information (Internet was too busy and no TV), I told her to turn on CNN and let me know what was happening.
We were on the phone at 10:00 when I heard a rumbling sound, as of thunder, coming through the phone. She screamed and the phone went dead.
A few minutes later my phone at work rang. She was safe but terrified. She had watched on television as one of the two towers imploded while she wondered if it would collapse onto our home.
Smoke and dust were choking all of lower Manhattan. Looking out our fourth-floor window, she saw dazed people covered in ash and dust wandering the streets and heard the screams.
I didn't know whether to tell her to leave the building or to stay inside. There was no activity from the other apartments on the floor. She then told me that smoke and dust were seeping into our apartment. Looking down the corridor, she saw smoke coming from the elevator. "What if the second building goes down?" she asked, nearly hysterical. I said nothing. She was screaming, crying, and praying. "Pack some clothes and call me right back," I said.
I went to the conference room where everyone had gathered to watch the events on TV. I watched speechless as the second tower went down. If one can be thankful at these moments I thanked God that it had imploded and didn't fall like a tree in a storm, in which case it could have leveled our building. I tried calling my wife again but could not get through.
I felt helpless at work and so walked down Madison Avenue to my sister-in-law's house. People filled the streets and traffic was almost nonexistent, but I was amazed at how calm everyone was.
An hour and a half had gone by with no word from my wife. At 12:00 I received a phone call from a friend who works across the street from the WTC and who was coming out of the subway when the second plane hit. He escaped unharmed and asked me about my wife. "Hold on," I said. "I have another call."
It was her. She was still in the apartment. I told her to get out and meet me at her sister's house, about an hour's walk from home. An hour later she arrived--shaken, trembling, but safe.
Thank you, God.
John
I live three blocks south of what was the World Trade Center. The subway I take to work passes directly under it. Until a few months ago, I used the World Trade Center stop. I chided my wife for being lazy when she started using the next stop, saving herself walking an extra five minutes, but I began to take it as well.
I left my apartment this morning at 8:40, a few minutes before the first plane crashed into the north tower. As I descended the stairs to the platform, I noticed nothing unusual outside. (The WTC was in sight of my stop.) I had to wait about 10 minutes for the train, which was unusual but not unprecedented. Once in the train, it was announced that we would bypass the WTC stop. Still, I did not consider this unusual, as the trains will often skip a few stops to make up time. However, I did think it odd that the train skipped only the WTC stop.
It was not until I got to work at 9:20 that I heard the news. I instantly called my wife, who was still at home asleep. I left a message on our answering machine, urging her to call me at work. Within a few minutes she called me back, and as I had no source of information (Internet was too busy and no TV), I told her to turn on CNN and let me know what was happening.
We were on the phone at 10:00 when I heard a rumbling sound, as of thunder, coming through the phone. She screamed and the phone went dead.
A few minutes later my phone at work rang. She was safe but terrified. She had watched on television as one of the two towers imploded while she wondered if it would collapse onto our home.
Smoke and dust were choking all of lower Manhattan. Looking out our fourth-floor window, she saw dazed people covered in ash and dust wandering the streets and heard the screams.
I didn't know whether to tell her to leave the building or to stay inside. There was no activity from the other apartments on the floor. She then told me that smoke and dust were seeping into our apartment. Looking down the corridor, she saw smoke coming from the elevator. "What if the second building goes down?" she asked, nearly hysterical. I said nothing. She was screaming, crying, and praying. "Pack some clothes and call me right back," I said.
I went to the conference room where everyone had gathered to watch the events on TV. I watched speechless as the second tower went down. If one can be thankful at these moments I thanked God that it had imploded and didn't fall like a tree in a storm, in which case it could have leveled our building. I tried calling my wife again but could not get through.
I felt helpless at work and so walked down Madison Avenue to my sister-in-law's house. People filled the streets and traffic was almost nonexistent, but I was amazed at how calm everyone was.
An hour and a half had gone by with no word from my wife. At 12:00 I received a phone call from a friend who works across the street from the WTC and who was coming out of the subway when the second plane hit. He escaped unharmed and asked me about my wife. "Hold on," I said. "I have another call."
It was her. She was still in the apartment. I told her to get out and meet me at her sister's house, about an hour's walk from home. An hour later she arrived--shaken, trembling, but safe.
Thank you, God.
John
And thank you, God from all John's and Sandy's extended family in Connecticut and Arkansas.
ReplyDelete*Thank you, God.*
Mom
Hard to thank God on 9/11 without seeming vain.
ReplyDeleteThanking God that our beloved daughter-in-love, Sandy, whom John had been deeply concerned about (and fearful for her safety in those first few horribly chaotic hours) was safe.
ReplyDeleteMom