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On the morning of 9/11 I got on a NYC subway to go down to the SDNY a few blocks from the WTC after the 1st plane hit. We still naively thought it was a small plane “accident.” As I came up from the subway near the WTC, I looked up & saw people staring at something with looks of
such shock on their faces, I knew to be very scared. When I turned around, I saw a hole in flames in the 2nd WTC. The 2nd plane had just hit. We stood in shock & tears on the sidewalk realizing at this moment that we had been attacked. I walked toward the SDNY building.
It was chaos everywhere. When I reached my office my friends & colleagues were streaming out. We were told to evacuate federal buildings & head North. I walked with colleagues to a friend’s house where we watched the towers collapse on TV & cried.
I then walked to the UWS of Manhattan with 1000s of other NYers - we were the lucky ones because we were going home. That night, I remember thinking that we would never feel safe in our own city again. A few days later, I was part of a skeleton crew that went back to the SDNY
office near Ground Zero. We walked around with paper masks because it was smokey. The office was a moment frozen in time when the 2nd plane hit - half eaten breakfasts & coffees & signs of normal morning routines abruptly interrupted. Every day from that day on, I & so many of
my colleagues walked past “the pile” at Ground Zero on our way work commute every day. The air smelled & tasted like smoke & metal. But we knew that so many had & were sacrificing so much more. We took statements from victims’ family members at the Family Assistance Center
& our hearts broke for them. It strengthened our resolve to work harder & do more. NYC came together in those days in ways that I will never forget. The lines to donate blood, the spontaneous memorials near the hospital where signs of missing family members
hung. The candlelight vigils. People lining the WSH to cheer rescue workers in the weeks after the attack. That spirit & unity@is what allowed me, & I know many others, to heal & feel safe in their own city again. (End).
Such a moving account.
I saw the first hit while in an auto service waiting room. I knew it was no accident. 3.5 hours to drive 9 miles to pick up my school child; 5 hours to drive 27 miles to home; difficult conversations; both of us terrified. #NeverForget
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