story10517.xml
Title
story10517.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2004-04-01
911DA Story: Story
I was on the city bus riding downtown to go to law school. The city bus has a certain character and cast of characters. Of course the loud drunk, the young mother with her brood of children, the nodding addict, the schitzophrenic, the homeless--if they are lucky to have the change. The conversation may be rich material for aspiring writers, but it's generally ignored by the everyday rider.
On this morning, I was sitting in the middle, towards the back and overheard a man talking wildly about a plane hitting the trade towers in New York City. At first I was inclined to let it wash over me--could I approach the mellowness of a busdriver? But the more I listened and then heard about the second plane, I physically turned around in my seat, and listened to what he was saying.
I made an immediate mental plan to head for the student lounge with the cable tv instead of my classroom.
The instant I stepped off the bus I was striding towards the lounge, already populated by student zombies. Dead silence but for the news anchor's updates.
I dashed to the phones but they were all occupied. Then I headed for the computer lab to email my parents. I begged a classmate I recognized to let me use his computer. I was finally able to talk to my mother when a classmate let me use her cellphone. The land lines were jammed.
By this time, once I was back from the computer lab, the second tower had come down and there was a buzz about bombs at the state department. I told my mother not to worry for me because I was in Baltimore and not to worry about Dad because the terrorists were picking high profile targets, not unknown defense department installations.
In my mind were images of tall silver escalators, the Ann Taylor, trees in the winter garden, the U.N. photo display ... things I had walked by last September. And memories of cocktails and swing dancing with my friends at the top of the Trade Tower (South?) before my friend's wedding the next day.
Outside my classmate was falling apart; her former boyfriend worked
near the top of the tower where the first plane hit. She had no doubt that
he would have been at work that day. We stood around in stoney silence, with our arms around her. One classmate was a Marine; she said she was "pissed." A note was taped to the door canceling Van Alstine's Contracts class.
Outside, then inside at the lounge, through the hallways, searching clusters of people for friends I could gather with, wandering around. I barely knew anyone. No close friends. School had just started. My long distance boyfriend was far from my side. I did not want to get on a city bus to go back to my apartment, what would I do there? I would not consider taking a train south through DC to head home to Virginia. What could I do but watch CNN in the student lounge? Plumes of black smoke rose from the Pentagon. The tower kept falling down! Falling down on the television screen! There were still several planes in the air. There were reports of a bomb at the State Department. And the sky had been such a beautiful shade of blue.
On this morning, I was sitting in the middle, towards the back and overheard a man talking wildly about a plane hitting the trade towers in New York City. At first I was inclined to let it wash over me--could I approach the mellowness of a busdriver? But the more I listened and then heard about the second plane, I physically turned around in my seat, and listened to what he was saying.
I made an immediate mental plan to head for the student lounge with the cable tv instead of my classroom.
The instant I stepped off the bus I was striding towards the lounge, already populated by student zombies. Dead silence but for the news anchor's updates.
I dashed to the phones but they were all occupied. Then I headed for the computer lab to email my parents. I begged a classmate I recognized to let me use his computer. I was finally able to talk to my mother when a classmate let me use her cellphone. The land lines were jammed.
By this time, once I was back from the computer lab, the second tower had come down and there was a buzz about bombs at the state department. I told my mother not to worry for me because I was in Baltimore and not to worry about Dad because the terrorists were picking high profile targets, not unknown defense department installations.
In my mind were images of tall silver escalators, the Ann Taylor, trees in the winter garden, the U.N. photo display ... things I had walked by last September. And memories of cocktails and swing dancing with my friends at the top of the Trade Tower (South?) before my friend's wedding the next day.
Outside my classmate was falling apart; her former boyfriend worked
near the top of the tower where the first plane hit. She had no doubt that
he would have been at work that day. We stood around in stoney silence, with our arms around her. One classmate was a Marine; she said she was "pissed." A note was taped to the door canceling Van Alstine's Contracts class.
Outside, then inside at the lounge, through the hallways, searching clusters of people for friends I could gather with, wandering around. I barely knew anyone. No close friends. School had just started. My long distance boyfriend was far from my side. I did not want to get on a city bus to go back to my apartment, what would I do there? I would not consider taking a train south through DC to head home to Virginia. What could I do but watch CNN in the student lounge? Plumes of black smoke rose from the Pentagon. The tower kept falling down! Falling down on the television screen! There were still several planes in the air. There were reports of a bomb at the State Department. And the sky had been such a beautiful shade of blue.
Collection
Citation
“story10517.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 10, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/16649.