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2006-09-10

Front Row Seat to the End of the Innocence - By Ric Perrott

The west bank of the Hudson River -- New Jersey's gold coast is what they call it -- was always a peaceful place to live. An escape from the hustle of New York City; it provides some of the suburban creature comforts while still affording proximity to the city, and some awe-inspiring views of the greatest skyline in the World.

Of course that all changed on September 11, 2001.

This is not going to be a dramatic emotional treatise which dwells on the immense loss we have suffered, it will instead tell of what happened to me. It is not going to be a call to arms or solidarity. It will simply be an account of my experience on that day, written in an effort to give some reality to anybody who might not fully understand what the people of this area were going through. Just the regular people, not the firefighters or the rescue workers, not the direct survivors or their families and not the families of the victims. Just the regular people who are trying to find ways to get through their regular days under a lot of irregular circumstances.

I only wish I could forget for 5 minutes, or for 5 seconds. I believe that as a Nation, we should never forget; but if somehow I could be so lucky, I am asking that I be allowed to, if only for a few moments.

The Tuesday unlike any that had preceded it began for me at 7:45 AM with a decision to finally turn the alarm off and get out of bed. My daily routine was completed 55 minutes later, and at 8:40 AM I left my building to begin my typical commute into the city.

I live on the 32nd floor so at times the elevator can be slow to descend as it stops along the way to pick up more commuters. On this day I'd guess that I left my building around 8:46 AM. Most days it's a 4 minute walk to the PATH station and a 15 minute train ride into 33rd street and 7th avenue -- midtown Manhattan.

That day the walk only lasted 2 minutes.

At 8:48 AM a colossal thunder ripped through the morning haze and instantly shook dozens of weary commuters awake. I glanced to my left just in time to see a tremendous fireball explode from the north side of World Trade Center tower number one. I'm not sure how long I stood there, mouth agape in disbelief, but I believe it was at least 2 or 3 minutes. By that time a crowd had gathered along the waterfront promenade that encircles my building complex, and we just stood there watching the flame and smoke pour out of the tower, completely unsure of what to feel. Some folks whipped out their cellular phones, presumably to call someone either in the tower or near the tower.

I calmly walked back into my building and rode the elevator back up to my floor, where I found my apartment purely on instinct--my mind still numb with what I had just witnessed--and went back inside. I picked up the phone to call the office to see if they had even known what had happened, and of course to tell them that I wouldn't be coming in just yet.

I reached for the remote control to tune in CNN to see if they could offer anymore insight as to what had happened. As the television glowed to life I could see the flaming tower from a different angle. My living room window affords me a fully unobstructed view of downtown Manhattan and this would be the only day that I would regret it.

The CNN anchors tried their best to report the theories so far; a plane had flown into the tower; a missile had been fired and struck the tower; a bomb had gone off on one of the upper floors. They frantically tried to get someone, anyone on the phone that could give them an eyewitness account.

I hung up from talking with my employer and glanced out my 32nd floor window at the wounded tower bleeding into the sky. I caught something with my peripheral vision and everything suddenly began moving in slow motion. I know now that only 10 seconds or so elapsed from the time I saw the Airliner lurching downward and the time that it sliced through tower two and exploded, but I assure you that it seemed like 10 hours.

In a perverse sort of omniscience, I was able to watch that plane eviscerate the tower from two completely different angles simultaneously. My own view out the window coupled with the south-facing view that CNN's camera was shooting, offered me a unique view of this impossible event. It is a vision that will forever be burned into my mind's eye. Every time I close my eyes, I still see it -- this most horrible of disaster movies.

Now a sense of panic was washing over me, starting with the hair on the back of my neck and rapidly moving downward. My first instinct was to run, to grab my keys and get the Hell out of there, but I couldn't move. The CNN reporters were in a complete frenzy now, replaying the crash hundreds of times while I just stared at the carnage not a quarter-mile away from my window.

I reached for the telephone to call my Mother on Long Island and assure her that I was ok. In the middle of that call I received a call waiting tone and took a call from a friend who happened to be on the New York Waterway ferry in the middle of the Hudson River, and had watched the last 10 minutes with the same horror as everyone else. We all assured each other that we would remain in touch and hung up. I turned to my computer which is always on and connected to the Internet.

The next 30 minutes or so are essentially a blur for me. I remember pacing around my apartment, trying to get a handle on what was happening. CNN was not helping by spouting every theory that was proffered, whether it was hearsay or not. And the local channels seemed to offer coverage that was not much better. With the view that I had, the last thing I cared to see was replay after infinite replay.

With one eye out the window on the hemorrhaging buildings, and another on my computer, I started to feel something. It felt a little like a miniature earthquake and I jolted my head up towards the window, through which I saw that tower 2 had begun to collapse. Never before in my more than 30 years on this planet had I ever been so completely and totally in shock over something I'd seen, but then again, I had never seen anything remotely close to this...New York City was crumbling right in front of me.

By this time I was in a near panic as reports were now coming from CNN that the Pentagon in Washington D.C. had been attacked and that the rumor now was that commercial airliners had been hijacked and plowed into the Twin Towers as well as the Pentagon.

The surreal image of a lone tower standing at the foot of Manhattan will live with me forever. I don't know how long I just stood there and stared out my window, wondering how and why had all of this happened, but it couldn't have been too long. Before I really had a chance to recover...tower 1 was coming down.

A few more phone calls were attempted but not many were getting through. It seems that the telephone infrastructure had been affected by the collapse of the buildings and the cellular systems were being overwhelmed. Exploding buildings in New York City and no way to communicate is not a good combination. I turned to the Internet and email as well as Instant Messenger.

I checked my email and there was a request from my friend Bill Shunn to check in on his website and let him know that everyone was ok. Bill had set up a so-called "Survivor Registry" on his site and had cobbled together a small Web-based program where you could enter your name and a short message. Within an hour it was being flooded with messages and even requests from worried family members. Passing the word as best we could regarding who was alive and ok and where the best place to go for information was how we passed the next few hours. Trying to help as many people as we could, and getting them the information they so desperately sought.

Today, more than a month after the horrific events, I have witnessed New York City become stronger than ever. I have witnessed New Yorkers and non-natives alike give their time, their sweat, their blood and their resiliency to bring this city and this Nation back to its feet. These days, when I look out of my window, I try not to see the devastation. I try to see the spirit of the thousands that are giving so selflessly to restore confidence and faith to the people of this great city; as well as the spirits of the thousands that gave their lives. And as I'm watching the Yankees...The New York Yankees return to the World Series once again, I get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, we'll get through this ok, and we'll come out on the other side stronger, wiser, more compassionate, and united.