September 11 Digital Archive

story10354.xml

Title

story10354.xml

Source

born-digital

Media Type

story

Created by Author

yes

Described by Author

no

Date Entered

2004-01-19

911DA Story: Story

I worked downtown in the financial district for an environmental consulting firm four blocks directly east of the World Trade Center. That fateful Tuesday morning, however, I was scheduled for a downtown dentist's appointment at 8:15 am to get my three wisdom teeth removed.

I was actually half excited that I was finally going to get the procedure over with and was even planning to take the next couple of days off to recuperate and relax from all the previous days of demanding field work. Oh, and what a beautiful day it was! The cloudless sky, an ocean blue and the air, clean and balmy. Who would ever have imagined the events to come this day would be of epic proportions?

I reached the city from Brooklyn by 8:00 am and walked over to Broadway and Maiden Lane (a block away from the World Trade Center) to see Dr. Azar. I remember feeling refreshed that morning because of the pleasant weather and the fact that I was able to grab some coffee along the way while it was still early. And then I also remember looking forward to the actual procedure. I don't know why, I was just looking forward to it. I guess I was interested in finding out how much tolerance I had for mouth pain. And maybe even the prospect of keeping my own teeth as morbid trophies from the surgery.

At 1 Maiden Lane, in I hopped in the old-fashioned, small capacity elevator which slowly eked its way up to the seventh floor. There, Dr. Azar personally greeted me at the receptionist's desk and I was led upstairs to one of the rooms to sit in a dentist's chair that faced a west-side window with the twin towers in near perfect view. I even remember peering out the window and marveling at the towers' height and architectural simplicity while I waited for Dr. Azar to gather his extraction tools. It wasn't long before Dr. Azar went over the whole procedure, telling me what tools he was going to use, how long it might take and asking whether I was comfortable with local or general anesthesia. I opted for local; a decision that was perhaps later proven to be near life-saving. I'd much rather be conscious and sound like a half-wit than be hopelessly passed out in a dentist's chair during an emergency. I doubt anyone would want to pick me up out of the chair and carry me out of that building.

I've always sort of enjoyed my past appointments at Dr. Azar's mainly because he has one of those spotless, high-tech dental offices. Not to mention the fact that he, himself, is a tremendously interesting guy whose real expertise is in cosmetic dental surgery and deep-sea fishing. Soon enough, he performed a series of anesthetic injections that seemed to take a very long time. During that period, I could tell he was trying to gauge my emotions and determine whether or not I was feeling any kind of anxiety. It was clear enough that I showed no anxiety, but he handed me these audio/video goggles that played off a DVD player anyway. He then offered me a selection of DVD movies to choose from. And as I looked through them.... "Ms. Congeniality," "Family Man," "Runaway Bride"... I was thinking, "Wow, this is a pretty poor selection of movies." But I realized I missed one - "Armageddon." Then I thought, ?Well that?s perfect.? All the explosions and destruction would serve as a great distraction from the surgery. So, "Armageddon" it was and boy... was I in for more than I had bargained for.

Numb at last, about quarter to nine, I donned the video goggles and watched the rolling credits, when all of sudden, "KABOOOOM!!!!" I ripped off my visor, just in time to hear my dentist say, "What the hell was that??!!" I mean, of course, it sounded like a massive explosion, but in my mind, I had rationalized it as a tractor trailer running over a massive speed bump at about 80 mph ? then multiplied that by 10. I remember Dr. Azar and I looking out the window only to see literally millions of office paper, stationery, and binders dispersed so perfectly throughout the city sky, it was like watching oversized confetti being strewn at the ticker-tape parade after the Yankees beat the Padres in the 1998 World Series in New York. Only it was scarier.

Dr. Azar immediately turned the radio on. We started listening to Howard Stern who was telling his listeners in disbelief that a small plane, what looked like a Cessna, had accidentally hit one of the World Trade towers. We all believed it as we looked on in fear. I watched from a 7-story height, people running out from the ground level of the WTC looking confused and frightened. The dental hygienist and assistants were already becoming very upset, concerned for the welfare of the people trapped in the building. Then, fifteen minutes later, at about 9:00 am, while Dr. Azar and I were already viewing the fire trucks, cops and other vehicles creating a massive log jam down below, it happened again... only much, much worse. Right before my eyes, I saw a sight I will never forget. A second plane hit the south tower - "KABOOOM!!" - at such a velocity that upon impact, it caused a devastating explosion that produced a ring of fire that spread out in every direction for hundreds of feet (because the plane's impact happened so quickly, the explosion looked almost as if it had come from inside the building). I could see the flames up close as they rolled and churned like orange liquid in strange patterns that I had never seen before except in movies like "Die Hard." At that very moment, amongst all the onlookers, the radio-listeners, and the TV-watchers, one single thought passed through everyone's minds - the U.S. was under attack. It was New York's Pearl Harbor. Total chaos ensued as thousands of people poured out from the ground level of the WTC in droves with great panic and confusion. Traffic was at almost a complete stand still and the sound of sirens and horns was deafening. It was an eerie sight for me to see because I was already imagining how many people must have literally vaporized upon impact from that second plane.

I called Kieran. When he answered, I realized that I was barely coherent. The Novocain had set in well and all the muscles in my face were almost completely immobilized. I actually used my left hand to assist in moving my lower jaw to create words that were comprehensible to him. It was tremendously frustrating knowing that I was going to have difficulty communicating to anyone else how I was feeling and what I had seen. In an urgent, forceful tone, Kieran instructed me to leave the building I was in immediately and take whatever possible mode of transportation I could "to get the hell out of the city." I agreed and we said good-bye. And that was the last I would speak to him for a long, long time. I tried to call my parents, but the cell phone lines were already completely tied up. People were in a panic, trying desperately to call their spouses, lovers, parents, brothers, sisters, children. It wasn't long before the city was on *lock-down*. Every subway, train, PATH, and bus was evacuated and shut down. Inaccessible. There were no available cabs anywhere. There was no way out of the city, except by foot. And so, I resigned to walking. After consoling a dental assistant in my arms for about twenty minutes, I finally left her alone as she wiped away her tears. She asked me, "How will I get home??!!" And I told her, "We?ll have to walk to the Brooklyn Bridge. It's the only way out." She nodded in agreement. And so we walked.

As I made my way to the East River and towards my office on Maiden Lane, a woman abruptly approached me, seizing my forearms tightly and staring with crazed eyes into mine as she spoke these words: "The bodies.... I watched the bodies fall. Did you see the bodies?" Her ghostly pale face frightened me as I stood there speechless. Then she released me, and walked onwards, staring blankly in front of her. And before I knew it, someone else had approached me from the office. It was Jeanne, our office manager, who had seen virtually nothing from their building, but stood outside to see the towers billowing smoke, dense and black, already wafting towards Brooklyn. I tried to relay everything that I saw from the very beginning, but she nodded with furrowed brow, half comprehending what I was saying. Finally, we returned to the office on the 5th Floor. There, all were visibly shaken and many were crying, some hysterically. There was a lot of confusion amongst our office because we were not entirely sure how many people were planning to come in today and how many had actually already left to evacuate the city. To make matters even more complicated, we happened to be having a project management meeting that day that encompassed personnel from several other offices in the country.

It was about 9:30 am when someone in the office who was listening to the radio informed us that two passenger planes that were allegedly hijacked had caused the explosive impacts. Everyone was stunned. "Both planes?!," someone yelled. I managed to get a hold of my roommate, Lisa, in Brooklyn who also worked with me in the office as another geologist. Though it was no surprise, I was still glad that she hadn't made it into the office yet. It was perhaps the first time in her life, coming late to work had gotten her out of trouble. Her voice trembled. She was panic-stricken. She told me she would not have had any idea about what was going on except for the fact that while she was in our bathroom, she happened to overhear the blaring news reports from a downstairs apartment that the World Trade Center was hit by two hijacked planes. Then Lisa screamed as she watched the news, having just learned of the fact that another hijacked plane had crashed into the Pentagon! It was 9:40 am. Lisa started to get upset. I was stupefied.

Jeanne convened a staff meeting to report who was missing and where they were. As it turned out, there were several people in our office that had left almost immediately after the second plane hit and had walked uptown to meet their spouses and loved ones. All were eventually accounted for. And we were grateful. Those who were left were still in the office, trying to determine our course of action.

The events that continued to unfold were astounding and numbing. All of a sudden, it was about 10:00 am when we heard on the news that yet *another* plane was hijacked and had crashed about 80 miles southeast of Pittsburgh in an apparent botched terrorist attack. Just when I was unable to comprehend any more catastrophic news, the south tower collapses. There was a low rumbling noise followed by vibrations through the floor like a small earthquake. Someone screamed, and then people were crying hysterically. I didn't even know what was happening until it was too late. And then there was darkness for a long time. And I cried. I told my work-mate that I had seen everything as he stared at me with a saddened face. And so I cried in his arms for a long, long time. And for coming to the realization that man could be capable of such cruel acts of hatred against our own kind. And so we stayed and we waited for further word to evacuate our building. Maybe we were safer in the building then we were outside? We didn't know, we weren't sure about anything.

When the air began to clear again, I opened the window and peered out to see the single most apocalyptic sight I had ever seen in my whole life. People were literally buried in dust and debris and I already knew that this wasn't the end of it all. It was a whiteness that was eerie and strange. All the pulverized concrete had begun to settle on every surface area and every human being that was still outside on the street. They looked like the walking dead. We forbade the worst - the north tower was due to collapse as well. In fact, it was less than half an hour, when the north tower did collapse. And again, like a minor earthquake, I felt the low rumbling beneath my feet. And I watched it with my own eyes the black cloud of dust and debris that came rolling down our street on Maiden Lane like a pyroclastic flow from a volcanic eruption - only it wasn't pulverized rock, but concrete, metal, glass and perhaps even flesh. Jeanne yelled over at me, "Shut the windows!! Shut them quickly!" So I shut my window and it was barely 3 seconds before the black cloud of ruin reached our office windows and suddenly, it was pitch blackness outside. All the people, the cars, the street itself, were completely shrouded in darkness like night time once again. And the sight of that *really* scared me.

Eventually, the dust began to settle again like before and it was then when the building manager commanded everyone to evacuate the building immediately. We gathered ourselves and proceeded down the stairwell. And for a moment, as I climbed down the stairwell, I imagined what it must have felt like being those people trapped in the towers. How frightened they must have been when they realized that they would not likely survive against such incredible odds. When we reached the lobby, we were crowded together, shoulder to shoulder with every possible tenant in the building like Penn Station on a Friday night before a holiday weekend. We must have stood there for almost 40 minutes before someone tested the air to determine whether or not it was within breathable limits. Finally, we left the building, placing wet rags over our noses and mouths, along with thousands of others who had left their homes and their offices downtown. It was a sight to be seen. The sun, barely filtering through the clouds of dust still unsettled in the air, felt like an unnatural fluorescent light shining down on us as we walked uptown to the Brooklyn Bridge. And so we walked in stunned silence over the thick layer of incinerated ashes of everything that was once the World Trade Towers. I was still not able to fully comprehend the fact that both towers had completely collapsed. I saw the aftermath. I saw what material was left behind. And conservation of mass tells me that it wasn't physically possible. But somehow, it was possible. The events from this day were enough to drive any person to insanity. It seemed to defy all probability and all the laws of physics.

It wasn't long before we reached the Brooklyn Bridge and we continued to walk along with thousands and thousands of others. As I looked north of us up the East River, I could see thousands of other survivors march across the Manhattan Bridge also heading over towards Brooklyn. These were the only escape routes for the young and the healthy and the old and crippled alike. I remember looking back towards the towers while on the bridge, but I could see nothing. The pall of smoke was so thick and so pervasive that the entire downtown area was no longer visible. I walked on, passing abandoned cars and a FedEx truck. It seemed like the end of the world. It was truly apocalyptic.

Upon reaching Brooklyn, the atmosphere was completely different. All the businesses were still in operation and postal workers from a nearby post office were handing out bottles of water and paper towels for everyone walking by, much like a marathon. Every business, church and caf? opened their doors to the public, allowing the use of restrooms and drinking water. It was these flowerings of kindness that made me feel warm and alive again. And it almost made me tearfully joyful how so many people had come together despite incredible adversity to help and assist perfect strangers. And then I thought about all the rescue workers and firefighters, those who had already lost their lives so that others could survive.

Eventually, our large office group broke into smaller groups to go to individual homes. I walked 11 miles home and along the way, found bits of office paper that had flown across the river all the way to Brooklyn; a grim reminder of what was lost. Our company was on administrative leave for a week and was quickly followed by grief counseling upon the return of employees. Still, some did not even return for the next two weeks. I remember feeling angry all the time, especially at the grief counselors who didn't even know what the hell they were talking about. Everyone told me that I was suffering anxiety symptoms, but I didn't think so at first. In time, it became apparent to me when I came home again with Lisa. For days and days, she would watch the footage and the rescue efforts 24 hours a day, non-stop, not sleeping, and not eating. And it drove me insane because I would hear people asking about members of their families as they flashed pictures of their missing loved ones on television, weeping and pleading to the public for hope that they had miraculously survived somehow. It was the single most heartbreaking footage I had ever seen in my whole life and I would just turn away from the voices and the photos and the people because it was too much for me to take. I would just cry and cry all over again. And it wouldn't stop. After being subjected to this for four days, I started to develop genuine cabin fever, leaving the house for the next 3 days. Eventually, I went back to work again and thankfully, immediately out on a field assignment. But I knew that I would never forget the events that occurred that day for as long as I live. And as long as I am alive, I will pass down my experiences to those whom I love so that they will always be reminded of what great acts of horror and what great acts of heroism our race has achieved.

As for my three wisdom teeth, Dr. Azar eventually did extract them. As a matter of fact, by some twist of fate, my new appointment occurred on March 11, 2002 ? exactly six months after September 11. When I came in, we looked at each other and smiled. It was the last time I was to see Dr. Azar before I moved to Philadelphia. I'm sure I will be a patient of his whom he will never forget.

And you know, I never did see "Armageddon." I suppose I never will. But I guess, in a way, I already have.

Citation

“story10354.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 8, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/17129.