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2002-05-15

September 6, 2001

Well, its almost 8 AM now, so I guess I'm going to head down to the cafeteria to get some coffee. So now I'm back and enjoying the Starbucks breakfast blend coffee. It is pretty good stuff. Went yesterday and met Sid, Woody, and Kenneth for lunch at that sushi buffet bar place Sid was talking about at the beach. It was damn good. And cheap, too. It was nice to enjoy their company, and Woody even helped me out with an algebra problem that I couldn't figure out as part of the precourse work for this FIRRM class I'm going to next week.

Oh yeah, I need to talk about my long Labor-Day weekend down in the Outer Banks. First off, after an epic struggle with Taisia, I won out, and we departed Richmond at 5:45 AM Friday morning. There was virtually no traffic for the majority of the ride down there, and we did so well time-wise that we decided to stop for breakfast. Since I was on vacation, I cast aside my strict eating regimen, and dove into a breakfast consisting of buttermilk pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and a buttermilk biscuit. It was glorious.

That evening, after picking up Sid and Heidi, we headed to my favorite place down there of all times, Owen's. We had a feast fit for royalty, seafood of all types and description, served to us by a very pleasant waiter with a kind face and great smile. The food was absolutely magnificent. I being out of practice with such large quantities, left that establishment quite a bit slower than I had entered. Afterwards, Taisia and I retired early, before the others arrived. In the morning, as usual, we awoke quite early, well before anyone else. Taisia ran out and picked us up some dreadful coffee from the Texaco station, and we sat out on the deck and relaxed at the shore. Then we finally met the others for the first time, Mike, Robyn, and Doug. Mike is about 35, a couple inches taller than me, and built like a sherman tank. He has a cool face, that makes him look like he is a chronic wiseass, but he doesn't come across that way at all. Robyn is very cute, and has a waif-like body and short hair, which suits her. Doug is tall and of a medium build, with a face you just like right off the bat. Right away I knew we were going to hit it off with this group of folks.

During the day, despite the mediocre weather, we headed to a beach for some swimming and fishing. That evening we ate at Sid's place, the 1587 club in Manteo. The food was stellar, and the company was extremely enjoyable. After dinner we walked down to a small dock with a patio out behind the restaurant, and we watched fish eat various creatures from the surface of the water. We had a lot of laughs and carried on a great deal, but fortunately no one was around to be disturbed. When we got home we sat around and talked before going to bed.

Sunday's weather was greatly improved, and the day was spent on the beach for the most part. After returning from dinner, we all played Taboo with the homemade cards that Heidi had created. They all were of a sexual nature, which was pretty funny and added an interesting flavor to the Taboo concept. We really had a blast playing that game, and by the time we had tired of it, we decided to continue the fun with Guesstures, which is a modernized version of charades. We had even more fun playing that, and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning laughing and carrying on. I'm glad to say that the guys kicked the girls asses in both games, by the way.

Monday morning came so quickly, and soon we were saying goodbye to our new friends, as they headed out immediately after the checkout time. Taisia and I, and Sid and Heidi stayed for the majority of the day, going back to the same beach we had been before, which was state park land. The beach was stunning, with no manmade structures whatsoever to mar the landscape, except the bathroom and shower facility off at the far end of the parking area, so courteously provided by the National Park Service.

We laid out, and swam, and sunned, until about 3 PM, and then we showered, changed, and left the beach for the last time, lamentably. We went to Goombays for our last meal in the Outer Banks, and we gorged ourselves on various and sundry seafood items. I had a crabcake sandwich with fries that were out of this world, and we also had an appetizer of breaded and fried scallops that were killer. We all shared a couple of desserts that were pretty kickass, too. Then the time came to take Sid and Heidi back to First Flight airport, where we saw them off, and then headed on the road ourselves. Oh it was such a good time, I'm still lamenting the expiration of it.

We hit it off so well with the 3 new people, and Mike and Robyn invited us to go out on their boat with them this Saturday. Mike is big into wakeboarding, and I'm really looking forward to going with them. I hope the weather cooperates.

So, that gets the weekend events up to speed. This Tuesday marked my first day in the IT department. I moved my things from 12 to 13, and am settled in nicely up here. I've been meeting people while also preparing for this class next week. I have a fair amount of stuff to cover still, so I am going to wrap up this journal entry now.

September 7, 2001

Its Friday, Yay! I am not happy to be here on a Friday but I guess that is the price you pay for having a 4-day weekend. We're on for boating with Mike and Robyn tomorrow around noon, and that also is cause for celebration. I am looking forward to doing that, and it looks like the weather is supposed to be good. This Sunday I'm leaving for NYC and the FIRRM class. I am both pleased and a little wistful to be finally going back out on the road.

So lately what's new? I worked on Tyson's brakes the other day, replacing the drum shoes in the back for $40. I think I undercharged him, but that's okay. I'll have a customer for life, or as long as I want him anyway. I wish I could line up some more people to work on their cars, because it is good money. And tax free. And easy, for that matter.

At any rate, I need to get busy working on this precourse shit. I'll report back sometime next week. Or maybe the week after that. I must remember to take this computer home with me, and to pick up my train tickets before I leave here. I'm going to do that right now.

September 11, 2001

Well, today began exactly like yesterday, but I'm sad to say that it didn't progress with the same tranquility as the previous day. I'm in New York City attending the FIRRM class as part of my commissioning process, and up until 9:10 AM today that was exactly what was happening. I was sitting in class, trying to pay attention to the teacher, and follow the concepts he was presenting, which dealt with the term structure of interest rates. As I was looking out the window from time to time, I noticed that a lot of papers were falling from the sky past the windows. I remember thinking that it was probably a bunch of newspapers that had fallen off a rooftop or something.

Then there was a loud boom, like a muffled crash or explosion, and my world, my being, will never be the same again. Looking outside, hordes of people were moving quickly in the same direction, towards the southern part of Manhattan. The class left their seats and pressed against the window, and then we all left the building en masse for the street. It was baffling at first to see virtually everyone moving in the same direction with panicked looks, and anguish on many faces. Then I heard someone say that an airplane had hit the World Trade Center.

I don't know what happened inside of me, but I just began walking towards the Trade Center buildings, against the flow of literally thousands of people. I had to tuck myself in, and take the brunt of several impacts, as people trying to flee bumped into me. But I continued onward, and within a few minutes I was looking at the twin towers, each with a gaping hole in them and blackened floors, and black smoke and flames billowing out of them. The scene on the streets was chaos, and the emergency personnel were too stunned to pay any attention to the few people like me that were moving closer to the carnage.

Eventually I wound up standing next to a building for shelter from the pieces of wreckage that continued to rain down, and I stood and looked at the buildings burn. Once I was ushered away, I headed down to the next block and cut over and moved back towards the towers. Heading down one street, I began to notice strange-looking debris all over the ground, and on cars, and draped across fruit in fruit-stands. Dimly, from somewhere deep within the recesses of my mind I knew these were human remains, but my brain didn't want to comprehend it, and instead I told myself it was damaged fruit. In fact, it was all so badly mangled and in such small pieces that you couldn't really identify what any of it was.

Intermingled with these mangled bits of what I was trying to tell myself were fruit, were other items, flotation devices from aircraft, and pieces of fuselage, and a mangled cell phone, and bits of clothing, and shoes. All sorts of various items were strewn about everywhere. A limousine parked on the side of the road had a metal rod impaled through its hood and engine compartment. That was a sobering sign, as I was standing on the street next to it, unprotected.

I wound up standing next to a guy in a suit who was trying to use his cell phone, and I told him it was useless, as I'd been trying to dial different numbers all along with no success. We then chatted a bit, and he informed me that a second plane had hit the other building, and that it was a terrorist attack. He asked me something that I can't remember now, and I wound up telling him that I was unfamiliar with the area, as I was visiting from Richmond VA. He gave a dry laugh and said "welcome to New York." He said his name was Rich. I shook his hand. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do, I guess. What is appropriate when the world is exploding around you?

As we were talking, he looked up and said "oh no, another one jumped." And I looked up and watched a man falling backwards through the air, close enough for me to see his white shirt and tie, and black shoes. He was motionless and in a backwards sitting position. And he just fell and fell, it seemed like forever that he dropped through space. I watched him, frozen in horror, right up until he passed out of my sight behind part of the structure, and then there was an amazingly loud crash, perhaps he landed on a car, I'm not sure. I looked down at the ground, stunned and in disbelief, and that's when I saw the first recognizable item on the ground; a human foot.

Rich asked me if I thought the buildings could possibly collapse, and I said that I didn't think it was possible, and I mentioned the time that a U.S. bomber had flown into the Empire State Building. And in fact the twin towers didn't look like they were weakened, although several floors were burning badly on each side of them.

I really can't remember what I did for the next several minutes, I just looked around at the carnage, spotting more grisly remains, and pieces of aircraft, and personal effects, and the like. Then a group of firefighters passed by us, heading towards the building, and I remember looking into some of their faces, and wanting to tell them to be careful. I was looking up the street away from the twin towers, and I saw Rich and another guy who had been talking a little bit suddenly look terror-stricken, as they apparently were watching another jumper fall through the air. The sound of the impact was so shocking, and Rich actually grabbed the other guy for support, and said "oh my God, he landed on a firefighter." I turned around and saw the group of firefighters dragging the two away, the jumper in a deep blue pinstriped suit, and the firefighter who had been struck by him. The jumper's body moved in impossibly pliable ways, and I watched, transfixed, as they dragged them both past me.

Eventually some security person directed us away from there, and I walked through the building nearest to me, and back out onto the street and up to another vantage point. I kept looking at people, and the towers, and trying to call someone on my phone, and just generally trying to cope with everything I was observing. Then the unimaginable happened. With a deep rumble and an explosion, I saw the top floors of the building drop down, almost in slow motion. I stood transfixed, as the structure dropped down upon the lower levels, imploding and careening towards the ground. Then the survival center in my brain began shouting the alert for me to run, run for my life. I ran down the street, my legs pumping as fast as they could, dimly aware of both the people running in terror in front of me, and out of my side vision someone who had fallen down on my left side. I was next to a building, and I headed for the corner of it, throwing my head over my left shoulder, I gave a quick glimpse of Armageddon coming down the street behind me, pieces of the building, debris, and a massive cloud of dark gray smoke. I hung a left, and the pieces of building blasted past where I had been just milliseconds before, like a runaway freight train.

I dove around the corner of the building and underneath a steel door that was just inches from closing, behind another guy and a cop. I'll never forget as long as I live the sight of all the cops who had previously been trying to maintain order and keep people safe, suddenly all running at top speed away from me and the carnage.

Inside the building, the air was clogged with debris, you could barely see or breathe. The young squat cop immediately shifted from being afraid and running for his life, to concerned about the welfare of all of the people now in his realm of responsibility. He asked if anyone was hurt, and ushered us towards a tiny office in the back of the building. Two garage attendants offered us water at a small sink, and provided us with shirts to put over our mouths and noses to breathe through. Outside it was black as night, you can't imagine the depth of the darkness. Then, after a few minutes I guess, the young cop was talking on his radio and said that we had to evacuate that building, our refuge. I again got that scared feeling, like we were in imminent danger of the structure collapsing. We got our breathing cloths in place, and proceeded out into hell. The black had given way to a dense gray, and the air was still chokingly thick with debris.

We made our way to a deli where others were huddled, and inside we got more water, and I set about cutting up my breathing shirt with a large knife, to give to others that were without. People were frantically grabbing for the pieces I was cutting, not even mindful of the large and very sharp knife I was using. I had to keep warning them to please be careful and watch out while I was cutting. I couldn't cut and tear fast enough. After a few minutes one of the cops said we had to get out of there too. They instructed us to take as many bottles of water as we could carry. I stood there, with a bottle of water in my pants pocket, and dumping one into my eyes, and the young cop next to me was grabbing bottles, and he turned to me and said "its like we're looting the place." Then we left and headed out onto the street again. While walking, people were just coming up to me and asking if I needed water, if I was okay, everyone just seemed to be pulling together in this mutual moment of need. Finally I wound up at the entrance to the Brooklyn Tunnel. Cops were telling people either to go into the tunnel or to head towards South Street Seaport. I decided to try the tunnel, since that's where my sisters' place was anyway.

The tunnel didn't provide much refuge from the debris, I found to my dismay. I kept the breathing cloth pressed over my mouth and nose and forged ahead, walking on the catwalk, just above the sea of abandoned cars. At some point I came to a crossover to the other tunnel, and I ducked inside to see if it was clear on the other side. The air was just as thick with debris in the other tunnel, but inside that crossover I took my first clear breaths since the collapse-apparently this area was part of the air-handling system within the tunnel. Daylight was streaming in from somewhere above, and without even consciously thinking about it, I knelt on the floor of that tiny room, and thanked God for watching over my dumb ass. I enjoyed a few more clean breaths of air, and then emerged from the crossover and continued. I walked on and on, seeing few people along the way. I gave one of the people my water bottle, for him to take a drink from, and we continued walking together. Finally we got to where the cars ended, and from there we walked in the roadway. Ultimately, I ran into a bunch of detectives, in suits, and I walked with them, while the other people that I had been with got on a bus that was slowly backing its way out of the tunnel. While walking with the detectives, a cop drove up and we all piled in. He drove us the rest of the way out of the tunnel, and then left us at the mouth of it. I walked slowly towards the toll plaza, and then the overwhelming feelings began to flood in, and my emotions crashed upon me, interspersed with brief footage inside my head of what I had observed just a short while before. I wept as I walked, and two kind policemen came up to me and comforted me, and gave me a bottle of juice, and talked with me for a while. Their looks of concern, kind words, and hands on my shoulders helped me to calm down a little, and I gave them my information, and then asked them how to get to fourth and Pacific. They gave me directions, and some more words of comfort, and then I headed out for the last leg of my journey.

Walking along Atlantic, I turned around as I heard a car approach, and two Spanish guys pulled up and asked me if I was okay. I said that I was and I asked if they could give me a ride. They told me to hop in. As we drove, the driver told me he was headed to the 59th street bridge, to pick up his wife. He said he'd drop me off before he turned. They said something about how we were all going to have to pull together now. They took me about a mile and a half, and then dropped me off, and wished me luck.

Then I walked for blocks and blocks, pausing every so often to look over my shoulder at the huge pall of smoke that was rising above Manhattan. It was surreal in Brooklyn, because no one here really knew what had just happened in such close proximity to where they were. People were just going about their business, for the most part, talking, laughing, making phone calls, walking along the street. None of them knew what had just transpired a short way across the river. I walked, and wept periodically, not paying much attention to the people on the street, and they not paying me any mind as well. Finally I made it to Fee's apartment, where I now sit, trying to comprehend what has happened. Watching it on T.V. is just making it more unbelievable. I've seen footage of the second plane hitting the building, and I've seen footage of the buildings collapsing, but I still cannot fully grasp it all. I keep feeling like I'm going to wake up from it, and it will all be a nightmare. The human remains, the personal effects, the pieces from the aircraft, the guy falling, the panic in the streets, the buildings collapsing, it will all just be a nightmare. I wish I could wake up from this.

September 17, 2001

Well, that last journal entry was something else, wasn't it? The further away it gets, the less real it all seems. That journal entry made it virtually unedited onto the front page of the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Since that time, I've been working at wrapping my mind around all that I've seen and heard, but I haven't been very successful. After showering and changing in Fee's apartment, I was shocked at how normal and unruffled I was. I came out of the ordeal completely unscathed, and that has added to my disbelief of the whole situation.

I've received dozens of phone calls and emails from people asking if I was okay, complimenting me on the story, and just generally reaching out. From meetings, to work, and even just random people like Taisia's work, everyone has been wishing me well.

The time that has transpired between that Tuesday and today is somewhat of a blur. I've been having a hard time remembering what day it is, and what I've been doing, and my sense of time has been skewed as well. I haven't done anything for my employer since last Tuesday at 9:15 AM either. But that hasn't bothered me too much in the whole of scheme of things.

Well, I'll try and do a recap of events after I returned to Fee's apartment. My step-cousin Schuyler came over, after he learned from Fee what I had been through, and that I was alone at her place. I can't tell you how wonderful it was to see a familiar face at the door, after all that had happened. We hugged, and it just felt so good-I'm so grateful to him for having done that for me, walking across the Manhattan bridge and coming to see me. We talked for a while, and I recounted the story to him, and he graciously listened even though I'm sure it pained him to have to hear it. Then we watched the television together in silence for the most part, both flabbergasted at what we were seeing. After the initial shock wore off, we talked some more, of what exactly I can't remember, but it was all dealing with the days' events, of course. I think that will be mostly what I talk about for a long time to come.

Eventually we decided to try and find something to eat. We walked down some streets in Brooklyn, and on the way to a neighborhood with some restaurants, I found a charred piece of paper on the sidewalk. It had blown there all the way from Manhattan. It had writing on it that was related to some real estate court case. Maybe it was from one of the many doomed law offices that once occupied the WTC.

We finally found a place to eat, with seats inside and outside, and the front of the place was opened up because it was so nice outside. You could smell hints of the fire everywhere, and not the warm and cozy smell of a fireplace, but the unsettling smell of a bad fire, a structural fire. It was unnerving. But people were there and eating, in fact the place was mobbed with diners, all chatting and eating, albeit in a somewhat subdued fashion. We ordered some food, and we sat and talked. When the food arrived, we both ate voraciously, I'm ashamed to admit. I discovered I was famished, despite everything that I had seen, heard, and experienced.

After returning to the apartment, we found Fee and Brian sitting on the railing waiting for us. They had called while we were there, to let us know they had found a way out of Manhattan on a subway. So we went inside and continued talking. Eventually, Schuyler left, and so did Brian, and Fee and I stayed up watching the news and talking.

I went to bed fully expecting not to be able to sleep, or to be plagued by awful incarnations of the horrors I had witnessed. Again I am ashamed to admit that I was not so burdened. I slept soundly, and until quite late for me, almost 9 AM. Upon awaking, I can't remember what I did, or at least I can't differentiate what I did on that day versus what I did for the remaining mornings I was in NYC. Drank coffee, watched the news, ate something, talked to Fee. It was all the same for the rest of my time there, I think.

Thursday arrived both quickly and not fast enough. Fee and I got on a subway after having some coffee and something to eat. A bagel I think. Then we went to Penn Station, where I got my ticket transferred and then Fee and I went to a Dunkin Donuts place to hang out until the anointed time.

Parting company with Stinky after so much time together and so many tragedies' shared was hard. We hugged and told each other that we loved the other, and then I walked down the escalator towards the gate. I helped a lady who was hauling a tremendous amount of luggage, and helped her stow it in the overhead rack, and we sat together. Her name was Daisy, and we talked a great deal on the ride home. She bought me lunch, and it was nice to have her as company for the trip. She said she was going to mail me copies of the New York newspapers that I had failed to be able to get copies of.

I'm so relieved to say that the train ride was uneventful. I made it back to Richmond right on schedule, at 4:30 PM. Taisia was waiting for me, with a homemade sign welcoming me back. It was really nice to see her. She had a bouquet of flowers for me, and we hugged and kissed, and then she took me home. Home. I couldn't believe it. Just as I had left it, even the lawn didn't look like it had grown a bit since I'd last mowed it. Nothing had changed here, not one single thing. No indication here of what had happened a few hundred miles away. Events that threaten to change the entire planet.

Since coming home, I've talked to and seen so many of my friends. Yesterday, Sunday, I went dirtbike riding with the whole gang of racers, minus Steve Sumner. Almost the whole old roadrace team, Tim, Steve Shoul, Me, Scott Nelson, and Bobb Seitz. It was great to see them all. We went to a motocross track down in Sussex county, about an hour south. I took Taisia's CR, after having raised it back up to its normal height the night before.

The day was stunningly beautiful, the weather was absolutely pristine, and there were tons of people there. The track was not too terribly challenging, which was good considering how lousy a dirt rider I am. The CR ran great, and I had a pretty good time flailing about on the track, although I was one of the slowest ones out there. I managed to get the bike up in the air pretty good a few times, which was a lot of fun. I crashed a couple times, but nothing too bad, and I'm not hurting that much today, although I am a bit sore. It was a nice diversion, even though the horrors were never far from my conscious thought.

Watching the little kids ride around the track was the best part, I think. Those little shavers were so great, doing their darndest to make it around the track. And when they'd crash, unless they got stuck under the bike, they would jump right up, and pick up their bike, and hop back on, and kick it back running and off they'd go! I almost began crying just watching them, because it brought me so much happiness, but at the same time I have this unbelievable weight on my chest all the time. Everywhere I go, everything I do, all the time, it is like my soul is weeping uncontrollably. I talked with friends, reminisced about old times, made jokes and did my standard routine, and had everybody laughing, but inside my soul was weeping. I just can't stop it. And so rarely do I show it outwardly. Every now and then it bubbles to the surface, but for the most part it is just inward.

So here I am today, Monday, September 17, 2001 and I am going out in the canoe on the James tomorrow. I really should call work now, but it is too late. I guess I'll just have to be sure to call sometime tomorrow morning. I'm planning on going back to work Wednesday, and making the rounds for the rest of the week. That way, I'll only have to do that sort of thing for 3 days, and then I can go out on the road the following week and be completely anonymous. So I'm going to take tomorrow as my last mental health day, and then I am going to try and get back into a normal routine.

I was just thinking about a picture I saw in the paper. President Bush and NYC Mayor Rudolph Giulianni were together, and Rudy was looking like he was going to break down and cry, and Bush was looking into his eyes, and had his hand on the side of Rudy's head. It was very touching. Rudy has been such a pillar of strength for the city, and I think Bush is rising to the challenge on behalf of the nation, too.

I still haven't progressed to the stage of wanting revenge yet. I know we need to do something, but I'm still not ready to jump on the bandwagon of people crying for vengeance. I don't have the thirst for us to go over and do what I saw done to human beings in NYC this past Tuesday.

So there you have it, getting things just about up-to-date in the old journal. Who would have ever thought that a piece of this journal would be front-page news? Life is crazy sometimes, I guess. It is only ten to nine right now, but I am already so tired and anxiously looking forward to going to bed. I wonder if this is the night where it all comes back.