remember...

i LOVE new york! and when i first started blogging, and was looking around at who else was writing out there, i came across a very talented and quirky writer named New York Moments.. she writes about life in NY as a single, confident woman.. i enjoy all her writings, because at one time in my life, i could have seen me as her.. living in new york.. except, instead of working in the financial district, i would be acting on broadway (more likely, off-off-off broadway!!) and loving the bohemian lifestyle..

one of the very first posts i ever read from her is the account of her personal experience on this day, 5 years ago, when all of our lives changed.. i can just see myself there, and can feel the terror and sadness that she felt..

she writes:

Sunday, September 11, 2005
The Day the World Came Crashing Down

I was up early that morning to vote in the primary election on my way to work. The weather was exceptionally beautiful-bright and crisp with not a cloud in the sky. The kind of weather that bode autumn.

After casting my vote, I hopped onto the downtown express bus and opened my copy of "Other Powers." I read all the way downtown, my eyes only leaving the book once to enjoy the view of the Brooklyn Bridge from the FDR highway.

I grabbed a coffee at my usual deli on the way into the office and soaked up the early morning atmosphere of Lower Manhattan. Since my first few weeks in New York, my dream had always been to work in the Financial District. From my first office on 34th Street I would gaze fondly at the view of the skyscrapers standing proudly at end of the island. Especially prominent were the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, literally towering above the highest of the others. Needless to say, I was more than happy to accept a job offer at 90 West Street (across the street from the WTC) five months after moving to New York. And when that job turned out to be a clusterf*ck, six months later I was even happier to accept a job at 140 Broadway (One block from the WTC).

I loved working in that area. It was bustling, charming, and festive all year long. At lunchtime I would often walk to Battery Park to enjoy the view, or shop at the World Trade Center or Century21. Happy hour was enjoyable whether we went to Bull Run, O'Neil's, John Street Bar & Grill, or The Greatest Bar On Earth at the top of the WTC1.

That morning at about a quarter to nine, I was perfectly happy drinking my coffee and checking my Hotmail. It was the sound that initially caught my attention and inspired me to look out of my North facing window. The sound of a plane at full throttle. There, heading South, I saw a very low-flying jetliner. And it was loud...So loud...I was frightened. I watched the plane until it was out of view, but I could still hear it. So loud, and so low. My heart was beating fast and I closed my eyes and held my breath, just waiting for it to pass, because I was afraid it was going to fall on top of our building. And then I heard it. The loudest noise I'd ever heard in my life. It was the same sound that a dumptruck makes as it bounces down the street, except this sound was 2,000 times louder than that. The sound of 2,000 dumptrucks bouncing down the street at once. And our building shook. My initial thought was that the plane had grazed the top of our building. Then someone shouted, "Look out of Dick's window," which faced West.

We all ran to the corner office and it looked just like a tickertape parade. Paper was falling out of the sky. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought a Yankee's World Series parade was passing down on Broadway. The paper never stopped falling, and there was black smoke rising from WTC1.

Looking at all of the paper flying around, and realizing that the plane had flown into the building, my mind instantly thought of the people. People must be hurt and killed, but I tried to erase thoughts like that from my mind. Maybe, somehow, everyone was OK. And several minutes later, we saw the firetrucks from the firecompany across the street from the WTC drive over as first responders. They looked so small from the 23rd floor. Just like toy trucks.

My parents were on a roadtrip visiting family, and had arrived in DC the night before. I didn't have their cellphone number, so I ran into my office and called my uncle in my hometown to find out if he had the number. I knew that I should call them and let them know I was OK, because they'd be worried if they watched the news. While I was on the phone with him, the sound of another crash and explosion assaulted my ears. It was the same exact sound, but 10 times louder than the first. "What the f*ck was THAT?" I shouted as I slammed down the phone and ran to the window.

I was just in time to witness a huge fireball flying out of the middle of WTC2. We all just stood there, speechless. And it was at that time that other, horror stricken co-workers started to run into the office. They told us stories. Stories of watching people jump out of the towers. Stories about seeing the carnage on the streets. Stories about watching the planes fly into the towers.

I'm a weak person, and I started to feel sick to my stomach. I didn't want to hear anymore of these stories. Some of the people in the office, mostly those who lived in Manhattan, said they were going to leave and go home. I didn't see any need for us to panic. The firefighters would fix everything. It would be OK.

We all stood in the corner office, watching the paper fall, and WTC2 burn. The paper kept falling. Some of it was on fire.

Then it happened. DJ, a woman with whom I worked, announced that she was going to leave and go home. Her boyfriend was watching the whole thing from his apartment in Tribeca and told her that we were being attacked and she needed to leave the building immediately. DJ was a cold, calculating, rational person. The most rational person I'd ever met. I was smart enough to realize that if SHE thought she needed to leave the building, the I should go with her. I asked her to wait for me, because I was coming with her. Just as I grabbed my bag to go, my mother called, and I told her that I was safe, and was on my way home.

DJ and I took the elevator down, and walked across the courtyard to 120 Broadway to catch the subway. As we were walking into the building, we saw thousands of people on the street all the way from the WTC to Chase Plaza behind us. They were all looking up at the towers. The fires were very high up in the sky, far away from the ground and us. I was sure that the firefighters would soon put out the flames, and all would be OK.

We were sprinting to the stairway, and asking everyone if the trains were still running. Most of them looked perplexed, as they has no idea yet what had happened. We didn't stop to explain. We ran down the stairs into the subway and ran even faster through the tunnel onto the platform. Luckily, we made it into the first car just as the doors were closing.

DJ got out at Grand Central to try and catch a Metro North train to Westchester, and I made it safely up to my stop on the Upper East Side. The first thing I did as I exited the subway was call my uncle and asked him to call my parents to let them know I had made it safely uptown. I spent about fifteen minutes watching TV with some neighbors at a pub on 1st Avenue before heading to my apartment. As I turned the corner onto my street, the doorman at the corner building told me that WTC2 had collapsed.

My heart stopped. I asked him to repeat what he said. It wasn't a joke. I broke down. The tears began falling and wouldn't stop as I walked down my block. I made it to my apartment, crying hysterically. I carried my dogs onto the bed and held them both tight as I sobbed uncontrollably.

Then I received my first phonecall. It was my oldest friend who still lived in our hometown. She has been watching TV, was worried about me, and implored me to move out of NYC. I told her I couldn't believe that one of the towers had collapsed. That's when she told me that the other tower was gone as well.

Words can't begin to describe the shock and the sorrow that hit me all at once. I sobbed and turned on the TV, hoping that it was all a terrible mistake...But, of course, it wasn't.

...I realize just how lucky I was that day. I left Lower Manhattan before the towers fell, and was lucky enough not to get caught in the cloud of toxic dust and dangerous rubble, as so many of my friends and co-workers did. I was lucky not to have lost anyone close to me. I was just lucky. However, that day was truly the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it...

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for some, it truly was the beginning of the end of their lives.. so many, too many, lost their lives in a blink of an eye.. for the rest of us, it definitely marked the end of an innocence, an arrogance, a closed eye toward the potential for anything like this to happen to us.. we woke up that day as we always had - going about our business - and in just a few moments, we were all shocked awake.. no longer could we go about thinking we were safe just because we live in America.. we had to instantly realize that there is an enemy out there bent on our destruction..

and we did wake up.. we pulled together.. we worked and fought to try to start making things right.. to show those who did this to us that we won't stand for such acts of terrorism..

in the five years following this horror, i hope we are still awake.. i hope we can all still remember who we are, and what we stand for.. we must - for those in new york - those in washington - those in pennsylvania - for those abroad in our enemies' lands - for those of us who love America..