12 Sep 2001 (updated 12 Sep 2001 at 03:43 UTC)
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I'm probably not representing this accurately, tried to post
earlier... can't sleep.
I arrived at work today a little later than usual. Heard a
crash while coming out of the subway but didn't think much
of it figuring it's always noisy in downtown. Reached my
desk, saw my red message light on, logged in and punched the
code for my voicemail. My wife had left a nervous message
asking if I was okay, that something happened at the World
Trade Center which is just a few blocks from me and the stop
she takes. I called back that I saw nothing and was okay and
tried to check cnn.com. I heard a commotion in the aisle and
found coworkers talking about the WTC. I suggested we check
the big monitor in the Risk Management area on the other
side of the office which faces the WTC. They had CNN on and
I could look at the smoking tower as the news read in the
background. I ran back to my desk and called my parents,
leaving what must have been a barely coherent "We're okay"
message since they didn't hear the news. We evacuated down
the twenty-two flights of stairs to the lobby but were sent
upstairs again. I returned to the other corner of the office
and as we watched the WTC, before I could even recognize
what happened, a plane struck the second tower off center
and fire burst out the other side. Then CNN reported that a
plane had struck the Pentagon. I ran back to my desk and
found the red light. My wife. I called her and we agreed to
meet at her office, farther away from the WTC, as soon as we
evacuated my building. For some reason, I grabbed the fire
escape kit with the water bag, dust mask and mylar blanket I
leave in my in-box where it was dropped two years ago and
grabbed another I had stashed in my overhead cabinet that I
had scavenged for the cyalume lightstick. I didn't wait and
stupidly took the elevator into the lobby. While going down,
something shook and the lights blinked but the elevator
opened into the lobby and I pushed out past the surprisingly
large number of people down there since I thought everyone
went back up. I stepped outside and it was all dust and
smoke and wind. I put on the mask and started walking as
fast as I could to Maria's office through a moonscape of
dust. I might have been running. I remember thinking that
I'm going to hyperventilate and slowed to a walk. The steel
coffee carts with the hard rolls and bagels
in the windows and young Pakistani guys inside were at the
corners but noone was inside. People grey with dust were
wandering in other directions. A Korean guy in a suit, gray
except from his eyes, was hacking and vomiting in color next
to a car while two grey people stood beside looking after
him. All the stores seemed closed or closing and when the
wind picked up, I ducked into doorways and turned away
squinting. Everything was surreal and unfamiliar. As I got
to City Hall the dust and smoke was less and I clambered
over a low wall dividing the road that I never noticed
before but must have been there for years. A woman in a
beige skirt was trying to climb over it but couldn't and I
turned to help and another guy lifted her arm and she
stumbled over it and stood in the road. For some reason it
seemed funny that she had not put away her cell phone the
whole time. I tried to make it to Broadway, but the police
were directing people and I hurried through a few streets I
rarely take feeling even more lost. I got to Worth but had
to divert back and circle a few blocks down as FBI agents
and police were shouting and opening parked trucks and
having people move away from the Federal court building. At
an intersection, I ignored a busy cop and crossed the street
and took off up Worth. The dust was thin but had reached
here too and I felt relieved to find Maria down the street
from her office. She had written a note in lipstick on the
page of a magazine and posted it on the building, in case I
got there after the police moved the evacuees away but I
didn't need it. We were okay and we told each other that we
should walk uptown away from the crisis and then figure out
what to do. We walked without much talking, relieved that
the other was okay, avoiding the emergency vehicles up to
the teens. People were everywhere and all the mass transit
was shut down. Lines were forming at banks and shops,
anywhere there was a phone or ATM. In the Village and NYU, I
got a few stares and realized that I was grey with dust. My
black shirt and shoes were ashy-looking. We found an cash
machine that wasn't empty in a bodega around the high 20's,
got cash and bought water. I had my gym clothes and offered
her my socks and sneakers but she just wanted my thin dress
socks. We sat on the slate step of a townhome and I changed
into sneakers and she put my decidedly unfashionable black
socks on and slipped back into her shoes. We then cut across
to the west side and continued up to the 50's. Like a cruel
joke, it was a perfect day- sunny, a breeze, gently warm. At
the West Side Highway, we started thumbing for a ride. Maria
was getting tired and I itched everywhere the dust had
settled on skin. A livery pulled over and let us in. The
driver, a very small boned, very dark skinned man in his
forties with an accent I couldn't recognize, maybe
Ethiopian, said he lived around the GW Bridge and was going
that way. We asked how much but he waved us off. Traffic
snarled and he got onto Broadway around 125th. While he
wiggled the car through the streets we tried to use the cell
phone and managed to get our parents and tell them we were
enroute. He drove until reaching a police line at the Bus
Terminal. We asked how much he wanted and he said he didn't
care. We gave him $50 and thanked him for stopping and he
drove off to get home. We walked the rest of the way,
arriving home at 1:35 and found ten messages on the machine.
We made a list and started calling. When we finished, for
some geeky reason I went on IRC and into email to let those
people know I was okay. I finally showered, but I still felt
gritty and itched on the back of my neck and inside my
people know I was okay.
I finally showered, but I still felt gritty and itched on
the back of my neck and inside my elbows. Hours later, after
watching the news, I am still in
a little shock and indescribably happy that Maria and I were
okay. We are lucky. I can't even conceive of the people,
folks I don't know who I pass every day, who were down
there. I hope they can contact their families. I hope they
are unscathed. I feel very lucky. I read in email that the a
number of people I casually know, some by name, were okay.
Later, after having a drink and eating something I called
coworkers and asked how they got home. Everyone was fine.
Their spouses were there or enroute. I can't sleep.