story4732.xml

story4732.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

I grew up in a New York City suburb. I graduated from the State University of New York at Purchase. I lived in a quintessential mid-town west Manhattan walk-up studio apartment for almost ten years and celebrated a lifestyle similar to the one portrayed through the character Carrie in the early episodes of HBO's "Sex In The City". My company relocated me to San Francisco in May, 2001. I still harbored the acclaimed New York City sassy-girl attitude five months later.

On September 11, 2001 I woke up to the radio alarm clock and trudged into the shower (5:40am PT); as usual. I had just gotten out of the shower and left water marked foot prints across the wood floors of the bedroom when I heard KFOG, the local San Franisco radio station, announce that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center (about 5:50am). I thought "oh, some rich jerk crashed his private plane into the tower," and continued to towel dry my hair while remembering a story from the prior week about some guy parachuting and getting caught on Lady Liberty's torch.

Then the words, "American Airlines flight..." hit my ears like a Yankee fastball. I grabbed the edge of the bureau and stared at the radio alarm clock. The DJ continued, "...commercial airline jet...", "holy shit," I exclaimed and a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. I tried to call my Mother in Yonkers but the phone lines were busy. I tried to call my friends in Queens, but the phone lines were busy. I tried to call my NYPD friend who worked in the Bronx, but, the phone lines were busy. I tried to call more friends in Manhattan, but, the phone lines were busy.
I sat half dressed by the phone on the cold wood floor of my converted Victorian apartment; hugged my knees to my chest and cried. I stopped hearing the words on the radio; didn't think to turn on the television. I was naked and defenseless. I couldn't stop the pit of my gut from being ripped out. I automatically picked up the phone and tried to call my Mother again; the phone lines were busy...

I didn't need news stories to tell me what I was instinctually feeling. My city had been attacked. My city had been betrayed. I felt isolated and very scared. I felt as if I had abondoned my city; the city that had always stood tall and been a secure haven for me - a single city gal. I became an numb soul thrown into a pit of irrational horror. Nightmares started within a few weeks.

I haven't visited home (home to me is still New York City) since moving out here to San Francisco almost a year and half ago. But, I am going in October (2002). I'm hoping New York City isn't going to hold it against me that I had moved shortly before its twins died. Or, perhaps, maybe my relocation happened because New York City wanted to protect my heart; like it always has.