story1090.xml

story1090.xml

born-digital

story

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no

2002-08-19

100 Blocks in Septmeber

?UGH! I hate work!?, I said for the 6th consecutive business day that month. The alarm went off for the third time and for the third time I pressed snooze. The intolerable smell of stale beer escaping from my mouth was matched in severity only by the pounding in my head - just your typical Tuesday morning in the city so nice they named it twice.

The night before, a Monday, wasn?t that different from any other ? I had stayed out too late, drank too much and didn?t get to sleep at a responsible time. Oh well, ?priorities, priorities?, I always say. Through the sliding glass door that served as my room?s floor to ceiling window (and that I always left a little bit open) in my upper east side apartment, I could tell it was beautiful out. The sun was shining, a cool breeze was rolling into the room; an Indian summer day.

?Damn?It?s 8:30 already? I blurted out as I stumbled out the door. Thankfully, I was always quick to get washed up and quick to get dressed. A quick brushing of the teeth, a wash of the face, some deodorant and I was halfway out the door. Dressed in a pair of chinos, a green Hilfiger shirt and of course my book for the commute ? Ken Follett?s Pillars of the Earth ? and I was on my way.

To a New Yorker, how we get to work is as much a series of options and choices as work itself. Will it be a bus or should I walk? Should I take the subway or a ferry? Ok, I?ll take the train, but which one? Should I take the local then switch for the express, or maybe walk a couple of blocks this way, so I can take the express the whole way down? For me it was an express train, then the PATH one stop into Jersey.

My commute wasn?t even that bad. After my ten minute hike to 86th and Lexington I was on the downtown 4 train to Fulton Street that ran express. From there, it was a 3 minute walk to The World Trade Center, where I could pick up the Port Authority Trans-Hudson (PATH, for short), for my 5 minute jaunt across the river to Exchange Place, NJ and finally, the office. Door to Door, one hour max.

As always, I paid little attention to the stops or the people getting on and off. Habit told me exactly when I needed to get off the subway. I had my head down and was engrossed in my novel, which was one of the best I had ever read. When I finally did get out of my literary coma, we were at Wall Street! I had apparently missed Fulton street by one stop.

?What the hell?? I thought. ?Was I so lost in this book that I didn?t remember to get off the damn train? Did I drink more than I thought last night,? Oh well? The Wall Street stop put me only three blocks further away from the WTC than Fulton would have and besides, I was already late anyway and it was such a nice day out.

Looking back, those few seconds standing there underground on a dirty New York City train, were the last ones during which America would ever be the same for me.

The time was about 9:30am when I surfaced and pandemonium was the norm. Even for a Tuesday morning rush hour, something was wrong. A quick scan to the left and right showed me something was not right, but what? I made the right and pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket, I wanted to call work and let them know I was running late but would be there shortly. I dialed once, nothing. Lousy cell phones. I dialed again and again I was met only by a fast busy signal; I was still heading North towards the WTC. People were walking, though with a quicker stride in their step, in every direction. It was on my third attempt that it hit me, literally.

?You?re not gonna get anything with that? the man said as he bumped into me (or did I bump into him).

?What was that?? was my reply.

?The antennas are broken. They hit us today.? Was his quick response. He was a black guy, about 28 years old maybe 5?8? and on an ordinary day, he was a bike messenger. Today however, was no ordinary day.

?What do you mean, ?they? hit us today?? I asked, making no attempt to hide the confusion in my voice.

?They hit us today.? He repeated. ? Terrorists. Terrorists flew two planes into the Trade Center a little while ago, cell phones aren?t working.?

?Are you kidding me?? was all I could say though with an expletive unintentionally thrown in there. I noted to myself even then, that I never swear to strangers and even less in public. I reserve that kind of language for friends, home and when the situation warrants it, at work.

?No man, I ain?t kidding? was the last thing he said to me, with a look on his face that can only be described as disbelief in my asking him if he was serious. Next thing I knew he had disappeared into the growing crowds of people.

As I took my next step and turned my head to the left, I saw the World Trade Center for the first time that morning, (I had seen it every single business day for the last year and a half from a distance measured in meters not miles), and I realized why the stranger gave me that look.

The top floors of the World Trade Center ? both towers - were on fire.

As I would soon realize, this would be a day of many ?firsts? for me as well as a day where I knew, even then, that I would see things that would stay with me for the rest of my life. The police had closed off certain streets and were herding people down others. I could see that several floors near the top of both towers were replaced by gaping holes, black ash and fire. Because of all the papers that had fallen and were falling out of the building, the sky looked more like a ticker tape parade than the beautiful sunny day I had seen when I left my apartment.

Slowly, very slowly, I started to get information. In retrospect, this was one of the scariest parts of my day. I have always been one to crave information. My love for knowing my surroundings eventually developed into a need for knowing what was going on around me and around the world. Cut off from news sources and my cell phone, I was completely ignorant to the events of that morning as they had unfolded and were continuing to play out.

People were huddled around vans and cars listening to the radio. The scene reminded me of old World War II pictures and stories I had seen and heard of families huddled around the radio yearning for news and was an exact duplicate of scenes across the country following Japan?s invasion of Pearl Harbor. I was not scared. No, I wouldn?t call what I was feeling fear (that would come soon enough). My emotion was, as sick as it made me feel at the time, excitement. I was excited to be seeing first hand what I immediately knew would be, for lack of a better word, history. I had no doubt about that.

The second emotion coursing within my veins was anger. I was infuriated. Someone had methodically planned and executed an attack on civilians in my city. In my book, you don?t get to do that.

I spent a few minutes standing in the street alongside ten others, all of us trying to learn all we could from the radio coming from a parked white van. From that, as well as people exchanging pieces of news in the street, I heard a lot of unsubstantiated rumors. By some accounts there were many planes still in the sky. By others, the White House and the Pentagon where already hit. And in yet other stories, there were as many as five planes still unaccounted for circling somewhere in the skies over America. Just then, the jets from two planes roared overhead. Everyone I could see, including myself looked up. Ok, maybe now fear was setting in a little.

After what could not have been more than 6 or 7 minutes, I continued my journey and followed the crowd away from the World Trade Center. The police were softly telling us to ?remain calm? and were pointing us in a direction that would get us quickly away from where we were.

My thoughts wandered places that I can?t remember - anger and disbelief I?m sure where a general theme though and things went from very bad, to unbelievably worse.

I have never experienced an earthquake. But I think I know what they feel and sound like now. I was startled in mid stride by a rumbling ? both under my feet and in my ears ? coming from what is best described as, all around me.

I stopped what was a slow walk, turned and saw the World Trade Center for the last time.

There are hundreds of phrases and sayings that we all use in everyday life that are not intended to be taken literally. One of them is ?I couldn?t believe me eyes.? Now that I know what that really means, I doubt I?ll ever say it in jest again.

As I turned around to face the towers, I could not believe what my eyes were seeing. I was no more than 200 feet from the North Tower when it collapsed. Literally paralyzed in disbelief, I watched with nothing at all between me and it, as the top of the tower fell to the earth and then disappeared behind an opaque cloud of smoke, ash, and debris that its own demise had created. It was not until the blast cloud exploded outwards that I started to run.

As I turned I remember clear as a bell addressing myself in the third person ?Moe, (a nickname of mine) I don?t know how this one is gonna turn out.? In retrospect, I see that phrase as proof-positive that I never ever panic in any situation. Or it could be the mind simply trying to maintain order in the body. Either way, I (and this is where the next usually exaggerated statement comes into play) ran for my life.

Every cell of my being wanted to live. Every muscle in my body ran with that sole purpose in mind. I pushed myself as fast as I could run. I have always prided myself on being blessed with speed rather than strength, and have always known that when I?m being chased, you had better be on something faster than foot to catch me. That day I proved myself right yet again.

As I ran, and it turned out to be a distance of no more than 100 feet, I heard and saw two things that I will again, never forget.

I remember seeing a cop in uniform, standing his ground, his back to the corner of a building, completely composed shouting ?come on people, move it, move it, move it!? his arms flailing like a 3rd base coach urging the runner home. I am amazed that during the scariest moment of my life I kept my presence of mind as well as I did and how much humor I found in certain things. I remembering actually grinning (while I?m in a full sprint) at the contrast between the 1st cop that was softly telling people to remain calm and telling us where to go and this cop, only a few minutes afterwards, screaming and pumping his arms, to be quite a funny sight.

The other thing I remember from my sprint wasn?t so funny, but at worst it saved me a lot of healing and at best, saved my life.

My plan was simple. Run as fast as I can, for as long as I can, straight ahead, thinking I would just outrun the blast. I was well on my way to carrying this out, when I heard a woman shout ?oh my god!? At those words, I turned my head ? and undoubtedly lost some speed as a result ? and knew exactly what she meant by what I saw. The cloud - that not 5 seconds before - was 200 feet away, was now maybe 30 feet behind us ? we would never outrun it! I focused all my attention again to the task at hand ? running ? and banked left while maintaining my speed. There was a luncheonette there with a glass door and I decided there and then that this would be my only chance. I ran for it, and as it turned out, through the door. It didn?t break, but did slam open as I dove through it and proceeded to destroy the potato chip rack. I could tell by the sound of the blast wave passing that I had missed the cloud by no more than a second.

When I got to my feet, the combination of the adrenaline, the sprint and the quick stop made me feel nauseous. As I stood there, my hands on my knees, and my head down, I remember thinking how sad it would be if I made it through all of that without puking, but now, while I was in relative safety, I threw up. Fortunately, I didn?t.

I spent about 30 minutes inside that store and saw some great things, and some terrible things.

People would stumble in at first, covered from the top of their heads to the soles of their shoes in gray soot. Every inch of them front and back was covered in the soot; they looked like zombies. The proprietors of the store ? middle eastern men as it turned out ? where quick to dispense napkins as well as open their coolers to all who wanted water, drinks, and food all for free.

I did the best I could to get some answers from these people and asked rather loudly, ?does anyone here know from a reliable source and not something they heard in the street, what exactly happened this morning??

Some people engaged me in conversation and I learned a few things, most notably that no one knew that much of anything for sure.

While I was talking to some people, two women started getting hysterical (and I mean this in the truest sense of the word) and complaining that they wanted, no they had to, go outside, they couldn?t stay here.

Many of us in the store told them to sit and calm down, they couldn?t go outside. Reason being, that ?outside? was nighttime. The visibility was zero, to say nothing of the fact that the air, what little there was, was not breathable. Even with the stores full glass front which made it quite obvious that nothing was safe outside ? it was black out ? they still insisted. After some insistence on our part, they stayed inside.

After about 30 minutes, the air was by no means clear, but at least you could see where you were walking. I didn?t know where to go exactly, but I did know that I had to get out of the Financial District, and that meant heading north.

I grabbed some napkins to use as a makeshift air filter and headed out. I?ve heard many people who were down there that day refer to the scene as a nuclear winter. I am sad to say that that was no exaggeration. There was an eerie quiet to everything. You could hear the sounds of emergency vehicles in the background, but for the most part there was this stillness and quiet. Tiny pieces of debris were still falling like snow, and what was not covered by soot from the original blast, was now covered as a result of this stuff falling.

People were walking, some were bleeding, some crying, all completely hidden beneath a veil of ash. I headed north, block after block the same scene repeated myself. I could not believe how much ground the blast wave had covered. But on and on the devastation went.

I saw the Brooklyn bridge and the mass exodus that it supported. It was obvious that I was simply one of thousands that wanted to get off Manhattan island. I saw plainclothes officers and policeman toting submachine guns and assault rifles. I saw fear, I saw panic.

When I reached City Hall, I felt it again - the rumbling sensation that I had felt maybe 45 minutes earlier. I stopped for a moment. I knew what it was and didn?t even bother to turn around to see it, once was enough for two lifetimes. The second tower had fallen.

After the fear for my life had subdued, I realized that people were most likely looking for me, most importantly my family and girlfriend. They knew how I got to work and my propensity for being late. Those two facts were going to make them nervous.

I continued north. I had walked maybe 20 blocks at this point and I was around 3rd street when I see this girl I had not seen since my sophomore year of college, Suzie. As it turned I spent the night I got into my fraternity with her. I laughed as it struck me funny that of all the days to run into someone like that, it would be this one.

It was at this point that I stopped to use a pay phone. My cell phone was still dead, and every pay phone I had seen up until now had long lines in front of them. As much as I wanted to let people know I was alright, I had to get as far away from the chaos as possible. I waited ten minutes on line for this pay phone, realizing that it had been quite some time that I had to use a pay phone rather than my cell phone. I called my father, and as soon as he got on the line, I could hear the relief in his voice.

The conversation went something like this:

?Dad, it?s me. I?m alright. But a lot of people died today?? I began.

?I don?t give a damn about other people right now!? he replied, sounding almost angry. ?You?re alive and talking to me and that?s all I care about.? I realized that in a way he was angry. Angry about what had happened. Angry that he was made to feel worried, and angry of what could have been.

We spoke for a little while longer, getting the basics down. Was I close? Was I safe? What was I going to do now? I hung up to free up the phone and resumed my trek. I tried calling my girlfriend at work, on her cell and at home, leaving messages everywhere but didn?t get in touch with her. A different kind of fear was setting in.

I kept heading north and around 30th street I ran into Brett, a good guy that lived on my floor in the dorms my freshman year of college but like Suzie had not seen since. By the time I reached 42nd street, I was tired. The adrenaline, whatever was left, was fading fast. My feet hurt and I was very curious how I was going to get off the island ? I was more interested in getting back to Queens to see my family and my girlfriend than I was in spending the night at my apartment.

Continuing the oddity of seeing random people, I bumped into Jody, the girlfriend of a close friend of mine - Adam. She convinced me to go down with her to Adam?s place and let time pass before I kept going. So we walked back down to 23rd street and the peace of his apartment.

It was there, at around 12:30pm that I first saw the planes hit the World Trade Center. Up until then, I had only seen the effects of the terrorism, not the cause. Even watching it on the news, it seemed more Hollywood than reality. I was inundated with horrible news. The scene at the Pentagon, the field in Pennsylvania, all of it came to me in clear and color detail. I felt sick, but seeing what was going on in the world that day and what I had already been through that morning, I felt fortunate to be alive.

I stayed there for about an hour to recoup and rehydrate then I headed for Queens. I walked to Grand Central Station, about 20 blocks more and hopped on the Queens bound E train. That alone should be seen as a credit to the Metro Transit Authority since the World Trade Center was the end of the line for the E. 20 minutes after that I was in the arms of my very healthy, and vey happy (though crying) girlfriend.

My ordeal on September 11th lasted 6 hours and about 100 blocks. That was the worst I had ever seen my city. It was in the days that followed that I saw it at its best.