9-13-01 1:15pm
Sorry this page doesn't have pretty sidebars and design schemes. I just wanted to get my thoughts and experiences out there and share them with people.

The (former) view from my office (roughly 18-20 blocks away) is here. To give you some perspective, the city was initially closed from 14th street down. That's 16 blocks *north* of where I was. The backup emergency and construction vehicles were lined up along Houston. That's still 2 blocks north of my office.

I got home at about 3pm WEDNESDAY afternoon. I couldn't get home to northern NJ on tuesday (I need the George Washington Bridge or the Lincoln Tunnel, or even the Tappan Zee), so I stayed over at a friend's house. This is what I wrote in my livejournal tuesday night.

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9-11-01 11:39PM
I'm at J's now, in the guest room, with a view facing the George Washington Bridge. Every time I close my eyes, I see a nightmare image of the gwb exploding in front of my eyes, too. I have to keep looking out the window to convince myself that it, and the world, is still here.

That's been the worst part of this for me -- not knowing what horror was going to come next. When we heard about DC, it was even more frightening: it made us unsure where would be next. We heard lots of rumours of bombs in lots of buildings, and didn't know what to think. It was like those Godzilla movies, fearing random destruction that you can't predict, not being able to know what was going to happen next, and just running running running because it's all you can do. We didn't want to walk uptown to Janna's apartment because we didn't want to pass the Empire State Building or any other landmarks. We didn't know what would be next. We still don't. Who knows what new surprises and fears still await, not to mention the discovery of the extent of the current devastation...

When the first tower was hit, someone in the office yelled for us all to come and look. From the south-facing window on my floor (at broadway and spring street in SoHo), we had a clear and unobstructed view. There was a gaping hole near the top of the building. We thought it might be a serious pilot error, but didn't think much past that. As we watched through the open window, the other tower seemed to spontaneously burst into a blooming explosion of orange and black. We all screamed and looked on, transfixed. That early MSNBC footage looking at the towers straight-on from the north, with the plane coming around back of bldg 1 and disappearing, and then the explosion on the front of bldg 2 with no plane in sight? That's exactly what I saw out the window. There were helicopters circling, so we probably didn't notice the plane amidst the news and police vehicles also in the sky around the building. The news footage looks like it's in slow motion, though. It all happened so quickly. The explosion was fast, just a single poof of red and orange, ballooning up and turning into black smoke.

Someone turned on a radio and we heard reports of a second plane, but it had come around from the south side and we didn't see it. We only saw the explosion. The glass and papers hung, glittering in the air. As the smoke rose away from the building, the air currents kept lifting them, and they didn't fall. The radio announcer said, "We apologize for this brief interruption in our broadcast, but our building is being evacuated!"

J turned up after the first one hit, I think, and instantly thought of our friend Megan who works at the World Financial Centre, right across the street from the WTC. J called Megan on her mobile. M didn't know what was going on - she'd gotten out of the subway to find herself covered in ash and falling papers, and was taking photos of it. J caught her up, and told her to get the hell out of there and head up to our office. If she hadn't, M might not have made it.

I raced back to my desk to get to the phone and email. I was on the phone with Matt [my husband], insisting that there was no second plane, and that we didn't know what caused the explosion, when we got word that something had happened in DC as well. That's when we knew it wasn't an isolated incident and feared where they would strike next. The large numbers of false rumors flying at the time didn't help... that there were a total of 7 passenger planes hijacked, that there were car bombs in many locations, that several things had been blown up that later turned out not to have been. Lots of stories and it was hard to know what was real, except for the devastation I'd just seen with my own eyes. Friends on the London mailing list I belong to, posted real news of confirmed events; it was the only connection to the media I had.

I called my parents to check in, wrote to other loved ones and my mailing lists. Got back to the window just in time to see the dust cloud from the first building falling. I wrote a panicked message to the london list. As I was doing another pass through my email for facts, the sirens started and the building fire marshall announced that we were being evacuated.

I grabbed my handbag and two photos of Matt from my desk. We all walked down the ten flights of stairs without even noticing them, and I got outside into chaos, thinking "I should have told people that I love them".

There was a mass exodus taking place up Broadway - just people from other SoHo businesses at that point; no one had made it that far from the WTC area yet.

Megan had arrived just as they were evacuating us. It was chaotic at our office, so she went on to another friend's office just up the street. The two of them eventually found their way home to Queens together.

Lots of my coworkers went home, but I knew I couldn't get back to NJ, and we didn't want to walk to J's apartment uptown because we didn't want to be walking past the Empire State Building or other landmarks, just in case they were next.

What felt like about 20 minutes later, we got the ok to go back inside. We watched the tv screen in the lobby for a few minutes, and then went upstairs to check voice and email.

I was walking toward my desk when I heard screams from neighboring floors. I ran to the window just in time to see the 2nd tower collapse in a cloud of debris, pieces, big chunks of concrete went flying off it as it fell. I didn't know what I was seeing for a long moment. I stared in disbelief. I'm pretty sure I screamed. I thought to myself, "you idiot, why did you go to the window? what did you expect to have seen?"

I expected the towers to endure, with burned out floors on their upper levels, till repairs could be made. I didn't think they would fall. I didn't ever think they would fall.

Janna and I hung out in the lunchroom watching the news for most of the day. The lunchroom has -- had-- a great view of the towers. (here) In fact, several people had watched the horrors from there and been able to hear the explosions. But now all the chairs were turned firmly away from the window as people watched the news in silence.

A few times we went back to our desks to check voice & email. Some of the messages from people I love were wonderfully supportive and sweet, and even if I didn't have a chance to respond at the time, I *did* read them, and I kept them in my heart to keep me brave and strong[1].

I called my dad in D.C. again (he was safe in his basement office at 16th and K streets NW, and not planning to move from there till it was well over) and checked in with Matt. Sometimes it took 3 or 4 tries to get a line out, but we were able to connect. J needed some air so we went down to the street. Ambulances and ash-covered ppl were making their way up an otherwise deserted Broadway. if we looked down the street to our right, we could clearly see the thick plumes of black smoke, even more striking against the intense blue of the sky.

A group of people - about 40 or 50 - were clotted together down the street. It turned out they were gathered around a parked car, listening to its radio.

It was about 1 or 2:00. My knees were shaking and I knew I neeed something in my system, but I didn't think I could handle food. I got an orange gatorade from the deli down the street. We went back inside our building and I phoned Matt and checked mail, then managed to eat half a bagel with tuna.

Some co-workers were going to try to share a cab back across to NJ. I thought that would be foolish and didn't want to go in on it with them. There's no way the bridge was open, and even if it was, it would have taken forever in traffic to get to it.

J & I were back upstairs around 3:00 watching Mayor Giuliani's press conference. When he announced that the lettered subway lines were open, we decided to go for it before others found out that they were running and the lines got crowded. We took an absolutely empty E train (literally - no people on the train at all, because it was originating at our station) from West 4th to 50th and walked the rest of the way.

I felt better once I couldn't see it anymore. I feel guilty about that... but having it loom over me made a continued threat feel more imminent. Made me feel helpless to help all those people still trapped inside, and those poor people on the planes, who must have seen what was happening (unless they were already dead, which might actually have been better for them) and couldn't stop it.

So, I can't get home, but I'm safe and comfortable. There's a futon, a fresh toothbrush for me, more orange gatorade (has to be orange. I don't know why... it's just my comfort drink when I'm sick). Janna and Andy have been great, and don't mind me tying up their phone lines trying to call home (it's impossible to get through. we were getting much better connections from work earlier).

Don't know when I'll get home. Buses won't be running for a while, and bridges and tunnels are closed. At last check, Manhattan is closed south of 14th street (16 blocks north of my office) on Wednesday, so at least we won't have to try to go to work in the morning -- it's beyond the company's control. They're lining up rescue and construction vehicles along Houston Street, which is two blocks north of our building.

So, that's my day.

To add another couple layers of wacky coincidence, I was up in the WTC observation deck just this past Friday, showing some foreign friends around the city. And last night Matt and I flew into Newark from my cousin's wedding. Two fairly close calls. I'm so glad we didn't fly today instead...

I'm really touched by how many people came out of the woodwork to check on me today. People I haven't heard from in years. People I'm officially not on speaking terms with. Friends from England, Israel, Australia and all over the US. If I haven't responded to your private mail, it's because it's been a rather overwhelming day.. but I do appreciate every one of you. It really makes me feel loved, and the support and strength is helping me not to fall apart right now. :)

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(9-13)

Matt got over the GWB as soon as it opened, and came and got me. I got home late wednesday afternoon. Work is suspended till at least Monday. Sleep is suspended a lot longer than that.

I still haven't cried yet. I haven't relaxed enough; I don't feel safe enough yet to cry. When we were evacuated, I was sure that was the end.

Most of my friends in that area who survived, are safe SOLELY because they were late for work. Chilling thought.

In NYC itself, among those who witnessed it all, I saw very little anger, very little desire for retribution. Right now, survival is still our top priority. When I got back to NJ, I started seeing signs calling for revenge, and I was shocked. The nation has a lot of adrenaline right now. Some of us used it to keep us going and to survive. Everyone else, I think, has had no outlet for it, and it has shifted to agression. I just want it to be over. I want to feel safe. I want to mourn. Violence against others won't help us now. Only healing and rebuilding will.

While I was writing this, another building shifted and rescue workers went running from the scene. The top floor of One Liberty Plaza is reportedly buckling right now. More may still fall.

This is all still far from over.

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[1]Thank you -roughly chronologically- to Matt, Nick, Nils, Cat, Sarah, Clive, Rob_A, Tina M, Gary, Joanna, Juamei, Heather, Jamie, Sheridan, Pat, Laurelei, Ian, Stacy, Katie, Giolla, Fred, Dot, Shana, Carisa, Jo, Kevin, Fiona, Aziza, Tina, Lizzie, and Lisa.

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9-14-01: Going back

My office was open today. Manhattan was open down to Canal Street, and we were all expected in for business as usual.

I didn't want to go back. I was terrified to go back into that city where I had witnessed such horrors; afraid of what else was to come... but I also knew (and thanks to Matt's and Nils' level-headedness for also pointing it out) that my fear was a fear of further bombing and destruction, and not a rational fear; that my first day back in would be equally hard and equally scary no matter if it was Friday or Monday or next year.

So... I went.

My hands were shaking as I was getting dressed. I took our package of filter masks, leftover from when we caulked the back window. I took the disposable camera. I took an umbrella. I asked people to wish me safety... and I went to work.

It was solid gray and rainy outside. As I walked from my building, I saw my bus drive past me. I stopped walking and threw my hands up in frustration. And the bus stopped to let me on. They never do that -- I don't think they're allowed to -- but she did, and I was grateful.

Even through the rain, there was an extra dark cloud hanging over Ground Zero. The dust had settled, but the fires were still smoldering and sending up more smoke. The bus got an announcement from dispatch that there was an hour's queue at the Lincoln Tunnel, so I called into work and told my boss that I might be late, but I was on my way.

It turned out to be a warning for the regular lanes of traffic. We were in the express bus lane and got through quickly. I got off the bus and considered my route. I thought about walking down to work, 45 blocks or so, but then remembered that buses were running a limited route, and that I would probably be able to catch a bus to 14th street and walk from there.

I stopped at the shops in Port Authority and bought more powerade, tea bags, and another disposable camera.

New Yorkers on the street were subdued. Crowds were less than half of normal. People kept saying the strangest things; things like excuse me, or I'm sorry, or hello.

The bus was going as far as Houston, so it took me almost all the way in to work. I considered getting off at 14th anyway, but I stayed on.

There was a marked change in the tone of the city, even just from the north side of Houston walking over to the south side. It was like the sky was even greyer here.

There's no other way to put this: it looked like a war zone.

There were pages of singed letterhead on the ground with WTC addresses. Discarded filter masks. Gloves. Boxes of purple sweatpants left out by a local merchant, with a sign asking all to take what you need. A single boot burned through the sole. Pages of "missing" photos with personal information below, tacked to every lamppost, every newspaper box, every phonebooth, their ink running in the rain.

I shared an elevator with Arthur, who lives in an affected apartment building and hasn't been able to go home yet. His partner had been allowed back to rescue their two dogs, but people weren't being let in to pick up clothing or toiletries or other effects. He said in a hysterical laugh that he didnt' know what he was going to do for clothing soon - should be buy more or keep washing what he had?

I got to my floor and stepped out. I had forgotten that we were in the middle of a big move to the new wing, and that more than half of the cubicles on my side of the building were empty. It was creepy.

I walked toward my desk, trying not to look at the windows to my left. The windows where we saw it all.

Everything was as people had left it. Most people didn't wait around to return to work when the building was evacuated - they went home. So Joyce's cereal was still on her desk uneaten, many computers were still on, many phones flashing with up to 100 new messages.

Silence.

I went to the windows, took a photo of my view. I stood inside my cube and took a photo of my nameplate and the windows beyond, to stress how close I was to it. I went upstairs to the greenhouse, made myself some tea, and photographed a lone woman sitting in front of the window, looking out at what was no more.

No one really talked. We asked each other if we'd lost anyone, because we knew that no one with family missing was going to be at work, so it was safe conversation. We didn't have to ask each other what we'd seen. We'd all seen it together.

Back on my floor, more people started to arrive. Everyone went first to the windows, stood in silence for a moment, and then started their day. I heard from other people in NJ about the brave or stupid or frustrating ways they finally got home Tuesday night, and was glad that I'd had a place to wait it out in safety.

It was pretty much understood that today was a day to make an appearance: to let others know you were still ok. The company was encouraging us to speak to a counselor they were bringing in. They also encouraged us to spend as much of the day in the Greenhouse as we felt necessary.

A bunch of us started talking about it, and though I've done nothing but talk about my experience of it with others, this was different. These were other people who saw what I saw, who were standing at the same window with me. Their tone, their fear, their anxiety, was just like mine. It was comforting and healing to know that I wasn't the only one jumping every time a siren passed, or a phone rang, or a plane flew overhead. That even though I hadn't lost anyone important to me, I was justified in my trauma. We had seen with our own eyes things that no one should ever have to see, and while the pain and the fear may fade in time, none of us will ever be the same.

Janna and I went out for lunch together. They were doing some kind of group bonding thing in the Greenhouse, which I would have wanted to attend, but it was some kind of religious group bonding thing, so we gave it a miss. I was thinking about finding a synogogue to wander into for a while, just to say a mourners kaddish or two, but I was having trouble locating the nearest one to the office. I didn't think any words about jesus, or some god i don't believe in, would do anything but make me cynical, and make it harder for me to heal.

So, we went to Bar 89. No Mike Myers this time, though the man at the next booth looked suspiciously like Moby. Janna suggested that we get red meat, since neither of us has been eating well. I got a ten dollar cheeseburger, which was probably pretty good but I couldn't really taste it. I ate more food at that meal than I probably have in the last three days combined. I think I can go without food for another three days now. I'm drinking sports drinks, and tea, but food just doesn't appeal.

I hung around work for another hour after we got back. I finished up the Spring Gift list. My boss said we could leave early, and it was now 3:00, so I told everyone I was going and headed out.

The rain had let up. I walked up to Office Depot to see if Ami was working. We hugged, and chatted for a few minutes about it all. She said she was going drinking on Saturday, and I told her I'd be up for keeping her company wherever she decided to go.

On the street, a truck hit a manhole, or maybe it was thunder, but it was a deep rumble we could feel in our feet. Everyone froze. All pedestrians, all cars. One long moment, till we were sure we were safe.

Onward to Union Square, which as you probably know is the scene of the makeshift public memorial. An orthodox man was sounding a shofar. Volunteers had a tent set up for donations. I fished the masks out of my bag and asked if they still needed them. I was answered with an enthusiastic "yes!" and a hug. I almost gave my umbrella, too.

I wandered around in silence, looking at the art displays. The lyrics to "God Bless The USA" were written in chalk all the way around the base of an enclosed flower garden. Even though I think it's one of the dumbest songs ever written, seeing it there got me a little choked up. If I'd had someone there to cry on, I probably would have, but instead my eyes misted for a moment and then they were done. I still haven't really cried. I still don't feel safe enough to cry. I still wonder where the next attack will be. Should I be standing where I am, or twenty feet to the left? Which will kill me, and which will save my life?

It was ok at Union Square, but it wasn't really my scene. It was mostly hippy-type NYU students, with some orthodox wandering around, and a few people in Jews for Jesus t-shirts handing out leaflets. Many of the 100-150 people there were genuinely mourning, but many were making extreme shows of it and posturing for the TV cameras (turning on the waterworks when you think the camera's on you, then being fine and resuming your conversation as soon as it turns away, is an insult to those who actually feel that grief).

There was an advert on a lamppost for a support group for witnesses that was starting up at a local outpatient hospital. I took down the number and information.

From there I got on the train, had an uneventful trip to port authority, and caught the 4:40 bus home. The sky had cleared up significantly. As I got my view of the skyline, a white plume of smoke was rising again from the wreckage.

Fires still smoldering; more buildings still threatening collapse; over 4,000 people still to find.

People outside of the city talk about it as if it was Tuesday's event, but I can't repeat enough: this is all still far from over.

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