story1901.xml

story1901.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-08

I had just had breakfast with two of my co-workers, Amy and Debbie, in the cafeteria. We were leaving the cafeteria when Amy's cell phone rang. It was her boyfriend, asking if she had heard about the two planes hitting the World Trade Center. We questioned her "Both towers? Is he sure? Someone's putting him on." It seemed impossible. Amy went outside to have a cigarette while Debbie and I continued to the elevator to return to our 6th floor office. We were discussing the possibility of such a thing happening as we got onto the elevator. A man we didn't know asked "Are you talking about those planes that hit the World Trade Center?" This was the moment when I realized that something had really happened.

When we reached the sixth floor, there were televisions and radios blaring as people listened to the news. People were lined up against a western window, looking out at smoke from the Pentagon (although I didn't know at the time what they were looking at). I approached one of my co-workers and asked what was happening. There was a lot of misinformation available along with what was later verified. Based on what she had heard on the radio, my co-worker told me that two planes had crashed into the towers of the World Trade Center, a plane had crashed into the Pentagon, the West Wing of the White House was on fire, and a bomb had gone off in front of the Department of State Building. My stomach curled into a hot ball of anxiety and I thought "The Government is under attack and I'm in a Federal Building."

I was in a Federal Building in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, only 4 blocks away from the Murrah building. I'm not shy about seeming paranoid; I figure it's better to be sheepish tomorrow than dead today. I picked up my phone and called my boyfriend, who works in Alexandria, VA. I told him I was leaving the building immediately and asked him if he was going to try to come home or stay put. He didn't want to risk the Metro system until he had a better idea what was going on, so he opted to stay put for the time being. I told him I loved him and to be careful. I slapped a post-it note on my computer screen that said something like "Gone Home" and shut down my computer. I grabbed my handbag and approached the windows where people were watching the smoke from the Pentagon. My manager was there and I informed him that I was going home and I'd do the paperwork on it tomorrow. He just nodded.

I saw a few people waiting for an elevator, but I preferred to take the stairs. I wasn't getting on an elevator in a possible emergency situation. I galloped down the stairs. I only saw one or two other people going down. Nobody seemed very concerned. I suppose you could argue that I was over-reacting, but I'm not ashamed of my behavior and I'd do the same thing again in a similar situation. On my way out, I went by both Debbie and Amy's desks, but neither of them were there. As I got closer to the building's exit, I saw a few more people who were obviously evacuating. Maybe 20 or 30 other people seemed to have the idea that it was good to get out of the building. It was another hour or two before the building was officially closed, and I heard from co-workers later that it was a nightmare getting out of the building. With everyone trying to leave at once, it was total gridlock in the parking lot. It was clear and easy when I left.

I went home and started watching television. I tried to contact a friend in New York. I couldn't get through, so I sent him an email. I called his sister in Oklahoma to see if she had heard from him yet. I woke her up and told her to turn on her television. She turned it on just moments before the first tower collapsed and she immediately started crying. I reminded her that Eric (her brother) had no reason to be anywhere near the towers, and that it would probably be difficult for him to get a phone line for a while. I felt rotten for waking her up to such bad news.

My boyfriend, Paul, called. He was going to try his luck on the Metro. I didn't love the idea of him getting on the Metro, but I knew that it was pointless for me to get into the traffic jam on the beltway to try to come get him. He didn't know how long it would take him to get home, and said he would get a cab from the Metro station. For reasons that I don't clearly remember now, I didn't like that idea. I think I just wanted to see him. So I went to the New Carrollton Metro and waited for over two hours. When he arrived, he didn't see me, and hopped into a cab. I got the cab driver's attention, and Paul came home with me. He said the Metro had been jam-packed with people, and that the National Airport Metro station was closed. As they went past it, he could see uniformed men guarding the entrance. Along the way, he also saw smoke from the Pentagon, and bits of paper swirling through the air. He said it was all very surreal. I was glad to have him home.

Like the rest of the nation, we were glued to our televisions most of the day. By late afternoon, I felt sick and dazed, so we decided to go into our back yard and get away from the constant replay of the day's horror. We sat in our leafy back yard under a gorgeous blue sky and had cool drinks. We knew we were among the "lucky ones." We were miles from the actual sites of the attacks; we and our loved ones were safe. But somehow it was difficult to feel lucky that day. It was difficult to feel anything but numb and sick. I still feel that way if I think about it too much.

Like most people, though, I've gotten back to normal. I try not to think about it too much, and I hope that there won't be any more attacks. I've done what little I can to make myself feel a bit safer, and I'll continue to be among the first people out of the building at the first sign of danger. Thanks for this opportunity to share my not so remarkable account of a day in history.