story150.xml
Title
story150.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-03-06
911DA Story: Story
On September 11 I came into our office on the corner of Connecticut and I Streets, NW at about 8:00am, as I do every weekday morning. I had my daily cup of tea, my computer was booting up, and I was about to get started on my to-do list. I wouldn't look at that list again with any kind of focus for two weeks.
In the halls of the office I heard someone say that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. We turned on all the TVs in the office and tuned to CNN, among other news channels. We watched in awe as the tower, like a massive chimney, spewed out a stream of black smoke.
It was a bad accident obviously, but there was no sense standing there looking at the tower burn; we had work to do. We did look in once in a while, and offer our "expert" opinions. Then the second plane hit, and we knew it was not an accident.
From that moment on, we were glued to the TV.
We watched and watched. We saw the towers collapse. Some of my colleagues had tears in their eyes.
Among the false reports, we heard that there had been an explosion at the Pentagon. When it was confirmed, panick overtook me. These were terrorist attacks; Our office building is two blocks behind the White House. I wanted to run!
From my window on the 7th floor, I could see White House personel evacuating on Connecticut Avenue. Soon the streets were glutted with cars and people. I saw six people in business suits sitting in the back of a pick-up truck.
I decided to wait, so as not to get stuck in traffic.
When I finally left, the city was deserted, and eerily quiet. It was such a beautiful day I took the top down on my little convertible. It took me a few minutes to get home to Alexandria. Ordinarily, I would have taken Memorial Bridge to 395, and driven past the Pentagon, exactly where the plane had hit.
I didn't, knowing the way would be blocked, but I saw the smoke in the distance, as I drove over Key Bridge.
Feeling the sunshine on my face, the warm air, it was difficult to reconcile two realities, the beautiful weather and the horror unfolding nearby.
I got home, hugged my husband hard and long, and we watched more TV. Over and over we saw that plane plunge into the tower, and every time I shook my head in disbelief.
I went back to work on September 12, but found it hard to concentrate. I searched the Internet, hungry for information on the attacks. I couldn't walk the two blocks from the parking garage to the office building without wondering if there was a bomb in the trashcans, or in that illegally parked car.
For a while there were National Guardsmen on the street corner, but they eventually went away.
That Friday, our boss let us out early. I took 14th Street and 395. As I was coming around the Pentagon, I saw the black scar on its side. It sent a chill down my spine.
Five months later, apart from the war far away, things, for those of us lucky enough to not have lost anyone in DC or New York, are back to normal.
We caught a glimpse of the "Grand Scheme of Things," and were noble for a while. Then we went back to being human.
And that ain't bad.
In the halls of the office I heard someone say that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. We turned on all the TVs in the office and tuned to CNN, among other news channels. We watched in awe as the tower, like a massive chimney, spewed out a stream of black smoke.
It was a bad accident obviously, but there was no sense standing there looking at the tower burn; we had work to do. We did look in once in a while, and offer our "expert" opinions. Then the second plane hit, and we knew it was not an accident.
From that moment on, we were glued to the TV.
We watched and watched. We saw the towers collapse. Some of my colleagues had tears in their eyes.
Among the false reports, we heard that there had been an explosion at the Pentagon. When it was confirmed, panick overtook me. These were terrorist attacks; Our office building is two blocks behind the White House. I wanted to run!
From my window on the 7th floor, I could see White House personel evacuating on Connecticut Avenue. Soon the streets were glutted with cars and people. I saw six people in business suits sitting in the back of a pick-up truck.
I decided to wait, so as not to get stuck in traffic.
When I finally left, the city was deserted, and eerily quiet. It was such a beautiful day I took the top down on my little convertible. It took me a few minutes to get home to Alexandria. Ordinarily, I would have taken Memorial Bridge to 395, and driven past the Pentagon, exactly where the plane had hit.
I didn't, knowing the way would be blocked, but I saw the smoke in the distance, as I drove over Key Bridge.
Feeling the sunshine on my face, the warm air, it was difficult to reconcile two realities, the beautiful weather and the horror unfolding nearby.
I got home, hugged my husband hard and long, and we watched more TV. Over and over we saw that plane plunge into the tower, and every time I shook my head in disbelief.
I went back to work on September 12, but found it hard to concentrate. I searched the Internet, hungry for information on the attacks. I couldn't walk the two blocks from the parking garage to the office building without wondering if there was a bomb in the trashcans, or in that illegally parked car.
For a while there were National Guardsmen on the street corner, but they eventually went away.
That Friday, our boss let us out early. I took 14th Street and 395. As I was coming around the Pentagon, I saw the black scar on its side. It sent a chill down my spine.
Five months later, apart from the war far away, things, for those of us lucky enough to not have lost anyone in DC or New York, are back to normal.
We caught a glimpse of the "Grand Scheme of Things," and were noble for a while. Then we went back to being human.
And that ain't bad.
Collection
Citation
“story150.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed December 26, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/11173.