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9/12/01
Hello to all my friends and family,
I am okay. And thank God, it seems that many of my friends and colleagues in the area are also well.
I woke up early yesterday morning, and pleased with the weather and the bright sunshine, decided to hop right out of bed. Instead of slugging around in my PJs, I took a quick shower, then turned on the Today Show while I got ready for work. So I was already watching TV when the news break first occurred.
Smoke was billowing out of the wreckage of the first World Trade Center building. At that point people were assuming it was an accident. In fact, the first eyewitness account was from a man so comic in his frenzy, I almost thought the whole thing was a joke. It sounded like a parody sketch, and I laughed.
But all the same, I called my parents to let them know what was happening. While I was on the phone with my father, the second explosion occurred. Dumbfounded, I thought the explosion was somehow a result of the first crash, until they replayed the footage and pointed out the second plane.
Anticipating major traffic, I raced out of my apartment to get to work on time. I hopped the first bus I could, wondering if it would have been a better idea to take the ferry. My dad had advised me that they might close the Lincoln Tunnel. The bus runs straight down Boulevard East, which is my street. We have an unobstructed view of the New York City skyline the entire way, and out the window I could see the plumes of smoke and the destroyed buildings across the river. People on the bus were talking frantically on their cell phones, and then one girl looked up and said, "My phone just died." Everyone else looked up in turn and replied, "So did mine."
We were nearing the end of the Boulevard when the announcement came over the radio that the Lincoln Tunnel was indeed closed. The bus driver pulled over to the side of the road to contemplate what he ought to do. Immediately a police car pulled up beside us and demanded that he move the vehicle. So I got out of the bus and started heading for the ferry. Crowds were beginning to gather on the sidewalks, and suddenly policemen were everywhere. A cop directing traffic told me that the ferries weren't running; all entrance to Manhattan was blocked. So I wandered across the street towards the skyline, wondering what to do.
Boulevard East is a beautiful street. There are little parks and playgrounds that line the length of the avenue. You can see the entire skyline, from down below the World Trade Center all the way up to the George Washington Bridge and beyond. And yesterday the weather was so clear that the view almost jumped right out at me. The Hudson river looked incredibly blue and the sun was tossing reflections off the water. I honestly felt that there'd never been a more beautiful day.
Except that from the southern tip of Manhattan there were giant clouds of black smoke marring the sky.
I'd brought my walkman with me so that I could listen to the news. Several people were gathered around cars, listening to the radio, but for the most part the crowd was just staring at the destruction. I think that most of them didn't know what was happening. There were kids running around and laughing, and the atmosphere felt nearly festive, like we were watching a parade. It was sort of grotesque. The news started breaking quickly then, and as I looked around at peoples' faces I was certain they didn't know what was happening. Another plane crash at the Pentagon. Fire on the Washington Mall. The White House evacuated. All these bulletins were crowding my head while passersby strolled down the street holding hands, or kept one eye on their kids and the other on the skyline. It was surreal.
It was also hot. The police were closing down the street, so I started the 20 minute walk back to my house, and I was walking fast. I figured I would call my parents, call my boss, and get my camera. Meanwhile I was working the mental checklist: Who works down by the World Trade? Who lives in D.C.? In those first moments I figured that all my loved ones were safely out of harm's way. It took several hours for me to realize that many of my friends were probably commuting through the World Trade Center that morning.
I had my back to the skyline when the first tower collapsed. I heard the exclamations over the radio and I wheeled around, but I'd walked a fair piece and lower Manhattan was no longer visible. So I started sprinting towards my apartment.
I was sweating when I burst through my apartment door, and I turned on the TV and started shedding clothes. I would not be going to work. I tried to call my office and my parents, but all I could get was a busy signal. Then I tried several friends in the city, and in DC, but all the lines were down. Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my camera and headed back out onto the street. I was determined to get some pictures, and I planned to walk all the way down the Boulevard to the best vantage point. At the end of the Boulevard there is (was) a stellar view of the World Trade Center.
The clouds of smoke were larger now, mainly comprised of concrete ash and similar debris. The effect from across the river was astounding. I could see it all. There was a big black hole in the one remaining tower, and it looked like a gaping mouth. I started fumbling for my camera, wanting to document the solitary building. Who had ever seen the one tower without the other? This was a completely different skyline. But before I could even grab my camera I glanced up just in time to see the second building collapse right before my eyes.
It looked like a waterfall. I don't really know how else to describe it. From across the river I couldn't hear the sounds of the destruction, so it appeared like a silent movie. When my brother and I were little, we used to sprinkle sand into the sewer grate at the edge of our front yard. We called it "feeding the fish". And that's how the building looked tumbling down, like sand filtering through somebody's fingers. It was strangely beautiful.
And while my heart skipped a beat and I stopped dead in my tracks, I did not think at the time of the magnitude of what I'd seen. It just seemed like a cool thing to witness, you know? Everyone likes to see buildings come down. From across the river and way uptown those towers didn't look like structures that could house fifty thousand people. They looked like sandcastles. What I saw was a sandcastle falling down.
Except that's not really what it was. And the more news I watch, the more frightening it becomes, what I've seen. It is difficult to merge the footage of people running like hell from approaching debris with the silent picture that I witnessed. It took almost 12 hours for it to sink in. There are families picnicking in New Jersey. We sat in the parks and stared at the smoke coming off the skyline. When the dust settles, what we'll see from over here is the same thing we've always seen, minus two large buildings. It's like a city of blocks, and some giant has simply removed a few.
When it all sank in I cried uncontrollably.
My city is different now. My country is different now. I sit on the 28th floor of a waterfront high-rise and wonder if my building could be a target. Suddenly the entire idea of a city like New York seems ludicrous. How could we possibly think it's safe to squeeze so many people in here? When there's no more land, we build on top of our one anothers' heads. We travel underground. We put upwards of 50,000 people into two tall buildings that reached straight for the sky. How did we not see this coming?
I sit on the opposite side of the river and watch my town burning.
I am safe. I pray to God that when everyone is accounted for I will be lucky enough to see all my friends safe. But I already know that when I come into work tomorrow I'll know someone who knows someone who was a victim.
Those of you in the New York area that I haven't spoken with, will you please write a quick email so that I know you're okay?
I sincerely hope all of your family and friends are safe and well.
Love,
Errin
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