story10241.xml

story10241.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2003-12-06

On the morning of Sept. 11, the sun came streaming through the window of my Battery Park City apartment. I awakened to a beautiful morning in lower Manhattan. I could see all the commuters enjoying the mild climate and bright blue sky on their walk to work. Little did any of us know, as we began our usual routine, that in a few hours our sense of ordinary would be ripped at the seams and our lives would be forever changed.
My husband, Sandy, had left our apartment around 7:30 a.m. that morning to drive to his work in New Jersey. I always slept in a little later, since I only had a ten- minute walk to my job at Chase Manhattan Bank (which was located two blocks east of the World Trade Center). Sandy and I were both computer consultants on assignment in N.Y. and were living in a corporate apartment located one block south of the World Trade Center. We loved the energy that surrounded that area. It was so full of life with all the people riding their bikes, walking their dogs, eating at outdoor cafes, and listening to free music concerts (many that took place right in the center of the World Trade Center complex).
At 8:47 a.m. on Sept. 11, I was brushing my teeth in our apartment. Suddenly, I heard a loud blast and my television screen went blank. I thought it must have been a construction explosion until I noticed this unusual flickering of light outside my window. I took a closer look and realized that it was paper trickling down like a ticker-tape parade. I followed its path upward and saw a ring of fire around the top of the World Trade Center. I was immediately afraid. So, I went down to the lobby of my apartment building to find someone with information. Our bellman told me that a small plane had accidentally crashed into the North Tower, but I did not notice anyone acting too concerned in my immediate area. So, I went back to my apartment to quickly get my laptop and pocketbook for work
As I headed out of the lobby of my apartment at 9:02 a.m., all of the sudden, the bellman quickly jumped to his feet and ran toward the door and the maintenance man came running out from behind me. We all three slammed through the door, and suddenly, I was swept into a mass frenzy of people running like you see in war movies when planes are swooping in dropping bombs. I grabbed the hand of the maintenance man and we ran together. Immediately, I realized I was hearing the quick crescendo of a jet engine. My brain had not put the pieces of what was happening together yet, but it felt as if I had stepped into a nightmare.
As we were running across the street, the second plane came screeching over our heads. That screeching noise is one of the most vivid memories I have of that day. And, I later learned it was the result of the plane accelerating so fast that it would have soon exploded from the pressure.
The maintenance man and I darted into a dry cleaners located diagonally across from our apartment building. There were about 25 other people in the dry cleaners with us. While the realization that another plane had flown into the World Trade Center crystallized in our minds, we all came to the terrifying conclusion that it was an act of terrorism.
I did not know what to do, so I huddled on the floor with a young girl. She and I comforted each other as we waited to see what would happen next. It was a very vulnerable and helpless feeling. I rubbed her back, and she held my hand. She told me her name was Kiono and that she had been selling coffee inside the underground shopping area of the World Trade Center. After the first plane hit, Kiono had run outside of the building for safety.
While we were in the dry cleaners, a line formed to use the direct phone line. All of our cell phones were dead. I was able to leave a message for my husband on his cell phone telling him that the second plane had hit and that I was safe inside the dry cleaners across from our apartment building. It was another 4 hours before I was able to contact him again.
While I was in the dry cleaners, I saw people pacing back and forth trying to comprehend the situation. Some were staring in disbelief. Others were crying with a mixture of fear and grief. I remember one lady announcing to us that she was late for work and that all of her co-workers were on the blazing floors of the Tower. She was in such pain from emotion.
I decided to get in line to try to get a phone call to my parents. As I was waiting in line, something made me look up on the wall. There, beaming down at me like a beacon, was a framed picture of Jesus. Among all the chaos, I felt a shimmer of hope and comfort. I remember pointing out the picture to a lady beside me, but it did not strike her as it had me.
I never did get another call out to my family, so Kiono asked me if I would like to go to her apartment to make the call. She lived even closer to the World Trade Center than we already were; but I reluctantly started to go with her. As we walked outside toward her apartment, the crowd suddenly panicked and began running toward us. I do not know what caused the rush, but I assume debris was falling from the sky. At that moment, Kiono saw a friend and ran to him. She motioned for me to come with them. I had to make a quick decision. After a second of thought, I waived goodbye to Kiono and turned back to go to the dry cleaners once again. I had decided that the only refuge I had was on the floor under that picture of Jesus.
I returned to the dry cleaners, but within minutes, a police officer came in and told us we had to get as close to the Hudson River as possible. So I listened, and immediately started off by myself for the bike path along the River. I felt extremely ?on my own? at that point. And, all I wanted to do was get to New Jersey and my husband on the other side of the Hudson. I could see the shores so close in the distance, yet it seemed so impossible to get there! I remember wondering whether a boat would come and get me, if I were to jump in and swim across the River.
As I was wandering aimlessly along the bike path, I noticed a young couple and their daughter sitting on a bench. I was drawn to them, and quickly walked over and asked if I could sit with them. The husband told me to have a seat and then asked me my name. His wife said that she was scared, and I told her that I was also scared. The father very matter-of-factly told us that the terrorists had hit both towers and made their point. He said that the worst was over and we would be all right. He invited me to come with them to their apartment where we would pick up their car and drive to New Jersey. It was so comforting to hear his voice, even though I could still smell the smoke from the burning buildings.
My mind started drifting back to the horror that had taken place. For a second, I caught myself envisioning the frightened passengers on the crashing planes and the helpless people burning in the flames. Quickly, something came over me, and I forced the thoughts from my mind. I knew that I must not think about those atrocities, because it would be too much for me to handle. I had to focus on things that were ?real? to me such as petting the dog that was next to me and telling the little girl that I liked her purple coat. I also tried to focus on the beauty of the rippling water in the Hudson River. Just then, the police came by and shouted for everyone to walk south toward Battery Park. The family and I began to follow the crowd south.
As we were walking calmly toward the Park at about 9:45 a.m., someone in the crowd in front of us turned around and said that the Pentagon had been hit. My moment of peace had abruptly come to an end. Without knowing the details, I could not help but wonder if our country was losing control of its security. Once again, I felt as if I was in the target zone as war was erupting. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the crowd in front of us, and everyone quickly changed direction. Someone shouted, ?Go north?. I was not sure what was happening, but the family and I turned around and went back in the direction from which we had come. I remember thinking that a bomb may have gone off in the crowd, but later we learned that debris from the burning buildings was blowing toward Battery Park.
I wanted so much to think that the worst was over, but instead I kept wondering what was going to happen next. I felt so on guard and ready to react. Once again, I kept looking toward the shores of New Jersey?wanting to reach my husband so badly. At least I had the family there to comfort me. The family and I had begun to round the corner of the boat harbor at the World Financial Center, just 1 block due west of the World Trade Center, and I was fighting the temptation to look up at the inferno. The mother and I were holding hands as we anxiously walked along together. The father was about 25 feet behind us carrying his young daughter on his shoulders. I remember the mother turning around and telling her husband to hurry up. But, that would be the last memory I have of them.
I do not remember letting go of her hand?or, hearing anyone scream. I don?t remember the sound of the falling building. The next memory I have is standing by myself on the sidewalk staring at a tidal wave of black smoke pouring around the top and sides of the building in front of me. It seemed to have no end above me. I remember seeing someone running in front of the cloud, and then being swallowed up in the blackness. I was suddenly jolted out of my motionless state, and I began to scurry like an animal trying to escape from the deadly cloud. I could not find anywhere to take cover, however. My natural instinct told me to run for the water; so, I ran as close as I could get to the edge of the boat harbor. I was very close to diving into the water; but, for some reason, I just dove on the concrete and pulled my dress over my head. If the time came when I could not breathe, my plan was to roll over into the water and try to rinse my mouth out. As I lay on the ground with my dress pulled over my head, I tried to spit the cakey layer of dust out of my mouth. Whatever I did, I did not want to lose any air that I had in my dress. I believed that it was all the air I would have to breathe.
There was a ghostly quiet hanging over us until a man in the distance started to wail in agony. I do not know if he was hurt or just frightened, but I will always remember his voice. Then, another voice cried out in the darkness, ?Stay down! Breathe through your clothes!? The man?s voice sounded so in control and was comforting to hear. Although, at this point, I really thought my time had come. I kept thinking how I could not believe I was right there in the middle of this unthinkable nightmare. And, that this was the way I was going to die.
I was so aware of my own thoughts as I laid there covered in darkness. But, I did not feel alone. I truly felt the presence of God and instinctively began to repeat phrases of the 23rd Psalm in my mind. ?Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.? Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment, except for my faith in God. Even though I was preparing to die, a feeling of peace and acceptance came over me.
I do not know how long I was on the ground, probably a few minutes. My thoughts were interrupted, however, when I heard a faint voice saying, ?Girl by the water.? I still remained on the ground until I felt a hand tugging my arm and pulling me up. I managed to get on my feet and opened my eyes. Amidst the gray surroundings, I could see the image of a young man. He started to put me on his back, but I told him that I could walk on my own. He then gave me his shirt for me to breathe through. Holding each other?s hand, we made our way through the thick, gray cloud. We could only see a few feet in front of us, but managed to find our way along the bike path. I asked the man if he was a policeman, but he said, ?no?. I then asked if he was the one shouting to us in the darkness, and he said, ?yes?. After a minute or two, it became easier to see and we finally emerged from the cloud about a quarter of a mile north of the World Trade Center. The man started to cough, so we tried to find some water. None of the water fountains were working, however.
Incredibly, I still did not know the first Tower had collapsed. I believed that a massive bomb had exploded and caused the black cloud. An on-looker gave the man with me a bottle of water to drink; but, an instant later, we heard a rumbling noise. I turned around and in amazement watched as the top of the second Tower started to collapse. The man shouted to me to run as fast as I could, but I could not keep up with him. As much as I wanted to run, I could not go any farther. I stopped and asked a policeman if I could get in the car with him, but he said, ?no?.
At that moment, a young man on a bike appeared in front of me. He was staring up at the crashing building in disbelief. With my knees bleeding, no shoes, and gray dust blanketing my body, I asked him if he would take me on his bike with him. No questions asked, he helped me onto the seat of the bike. I carried his backpack, while he stood up pedaling. As we started off, we both noticed a man giving me a ?thumbs-up?. It was the man who had helped me up off the ground in the cloud of dust.
The young man and I rode his bike right up the middle of West Side Highway, while ambulances and fire trucks came speeding toward us. We darted around cars that were jammed at intersections, and made our way northward. Any other day, these moves would have been considered dangerous. But, we were more concerned with finding the quickest route away from the fallen buildings.
Once we were a safe distance away from the scene, I became overwhelmed with the desire to contact my family. I leaned forward and asked the man to please stop. When we got off the bike, I told the man my name and thanked him. He said his name was John, and for a minute we shared our disbelief with one another. I then asked him to please help me find a phone to call home, because I was afraid my dad would have a heart attack if he did not hear from me. We stopped a couple of people to use their cell phones, but none would work. I tried to use a pay phone, but it did not work either. We finally decided to try a pay phone we saw inside a first floor garage. John stayed with his bike on the sidewalk, and I went in to call. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I heard a car slam on brakes near John. I ran over to him and we both witnessed four men jump out of the car and pull bullet-proof vests from the trunk. As the men ran off, we could see FBI written on the back of the vests. John and I looked at each other and agreed that we had better get out of there.
We decided to go to his apartment on East 81st Street, which was about 6 miles from downtown. After John had pedaled me a good distance, he decided to get off and jog while I continued riding the bike. In order to get to his apartment, we cut across Central Park. I was amazed at how beautiful it was compared to the war zone we had just left behind.
When we arrived at John?s apartment, I immediately tried to call my family. But, I could not get through to them. So, I decided to shower and change into some clean clothes that John let me borrow. I was not sure exactly what the dust was that covered me, so I scrubbed extra hard. When I got out of the shower, John and his roommate were watching the television reports of the disaster. They told me that all planes had been grounded, but some were still missing and feared to be hijacked. This news was very upsetting, because we could still hear jets flying over the skies of New York. I kept asking John and his roommate if we were going to be o.k. They comforted me, and told me that we were safe in the apartment. I could not help but wonder if World War III was starting.
We watched the news reports on television for a while; but, when they started to show footage of people jumping from the Towers, I turned away. I felt it was too horrifying for me to watch. I continued to call my family over and over. Finally around 1:00 p.m., I heard my dad?s voice answer the phone. I told him how glad I was to talk to him, and began to describe the terrible events that had happened. My dad?s only concern was my location at that moment. I told him a young man on a bike rescued me. Immediately, he asked me to get his name and phone number. Then, he wanted to talk to him personally. After John introduced his self, my dad calmed down and then thanked him for taking care of me. Dad invited John to come and stay with our family at the beach any time he wanted.
When I finally was able to talk to my husband, Sandy, he told me that he was coming to get me as soon as they re-opened the bridges and tunnels, but that it might not be until the next day. He said that if I could find a way out that night, he would pick me up and drive us to Delaware to stay with our families. It was such an unnerving feeling to be trapped on the island knowing that our nation?s security was in jeopardy.
Around 5:00 p.m., John?s girlfriend, Naomi, came to the apartment. She had been teaching elementary school in the Bronx when the tragedy occurred, but was able to walk across a bridge to get back in the city. She told me that she heard the ferries were shuttling people to New Jersey. Reluctantly, I decided to set out to find a way to get to my husband.
I said ?good-bye? to my new-found friends, and headed toward the West Side of the city. There were no taxis anywhere to be seen, and I had quite a distance to cover. It was pretty scary, because once again I was alone and did not know what was going to happen next. I noticed a church with a sign on the door that read, ?Please give blood?. I initially walked past, but decided to turn around. I could not leave without trying to help those who were less fortunate than me that day. As I walked up the steps of the church, a lady approached me and said that they could not accept any more donations until tomorrow. As I turned around to leave, a cab pulled up right beside me. Two men started to get inside, and I yelled for them to please wait for me. They did.
When I got into the cab, the men told me that they were headed to the train station to catch a train to New Jersey. They were not sure how they were going to get home once they got to New Jersey, however. I told them that if we could stay together and use their cell phones to contact my husband, then we would drive them to their homes. I had lost my cell phone that day at the World Trade Center, so I had no way to call Sandy. We decided to stick together. But, when we arrived at the train station, all of the trains said, ?Delayed?. I felt very uncomfortable in the underground building with masses of people and asked the men if we could try the ferry. They agreed.
Once we reached the ferry, we had to wait for about one hour. I was so relieved once we were onboard, and could not wait to be with my husband. There was a solemn silence among the passengers as we passed lower Manhattan and saw the smoke billowing into the sky. It was such a depressing sight to behold.
When we reached the banks of Hoboken, New Jersey, we were forced to stay on board the ferry. No one understood why we couldn?t leave the boat, until we saw people dressed in white, protective suits setting up a de-contamination station. As we exited the ferry, we were required to stand under a shower while someone in a white suit sprayed us with water?at least I think it was water. I asked one of the workers why we were being decontaminated. She responded that no one was sure what exactly was in the cloud of smoke and dust, possibly asbestos. At first I was concerned, but then I reflected on the fact that I was at least alive. I was lucky enough to see the people I loved once again.
The two men and I worked together to come up with a plan to reach my husband. It was very difficult, because access to all major cities was blocked. The New Jersey Turnpike was also closed. We finally flagged down a cab, which took us to Metropark, New Jersey, where Sandy was able to meet us at about 8:30 p.m. Sandy and I hugged each other like we never wanted to let go. It felt so good to finally be with him after everything that had happened. On the way to take the two men home, we learned that the older gentleman had actually been on the 37th floor of Tower 1.
After we took the men home, Sandy and I continued to drive to Bethany Beach, Delaware. While we were driving, we received a number of calls from family and friends who were concerned about us. Once we arrived at my family?s hotel, we had an emotional welcome from my parents. They had saved an oceanfront room for us, and we finally fell asleep around 2:00 a.m.
The next morning we arose to a beautiful sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean. It was incredibly surreal. And, we wondered if the day before was just a dream. Unfortunately, it was not. We spent the day visiting with family and friends and appreciating every minute we had together. It was hard to watch the grief-stricken people on the news wandering around with pictures of their loved ones who were missing. It was also sad to learn that five employees of my company, PricewaterhouseCoopers, had died on the hijacked planes.
In the days following September 11, I have spent many hours reflecting on my own experience. It definitely made me realize how precious life is and how fortunate we are to live in the United States.
Life is going on now; however, memories of that day will last forever?
I will never forget Kiono who comforted me on the floor of the dry cleaners when the initial terror set in. I will never forget the family on the bike path that took me under their wing and calmed my fears. I will never forget the man who so unselfishly stopped to help me up off the ground when the dust cloud covered us and offered me his shirt to breathe through. I will never forget John who gallantly pedaled me, a stranger, six miles on his bike to safety and then graciously opened the door of his home to me. And, I will never forget the men who allowed me to team up with them to find our way back to our loved ones. Most importantly, I will never forget the constant presence of God who came to me and strengthened me in my time of need.