9/11, 10 years on.

The other R in Houston · Sep 9, 2011

I came across this on another site, and thought some people might like to read, and share their views on what happened nearly 10 years ago.

All I'd hope is that people don't jump on it for some cheap American / Muslim bashing or rascism - it was an event that changed the face of our world In a lot of ways.

Sept 11th 2001:

To say Sept 11th started out just like any other day would be as much of an understatement as it is a cliche.

It was much better than that.

Into work by 5.00 a.m., nothing out of the ordinary overnight, in fact things were going very well. Couple of cups of coffee to brush away the previous night's cobwebs and off to the airport for a 7.00 a.m. flight, 300 miles to New York City. Gorgeous sunrise and USAir Express were to have us away from the gate on time.

It was a day-trip I made at least once a month, in this case a reprise of a similar roundtrip exactly a week earlier when our Dash-8 turboprop flew over Manhattan, a lovely day when you felt you could reach out and touch the skyscrapers.

On Tuesday, Sept 11th, the sky couldn't have been clearer and, once again, our approach into La Guardia took us over Manhattan and the World Trade Centre. Weather picture perfect.
On the ground at LGA early, no messages, and straight into a cab for the short ride to our client, a media distributor, for a sales meeting on Broadway and 18th. Into the Midtown Tunnel and a pleasant conversation with the cab-driver who, unusually, spoke perfect English.

As soon as we emerged into the sparkling sunlight it was clear there was an emergency. Turning towards Downtown there was a pall of something on the horizon.
"What's that?' asked the cabbie.
"Not sure," I said feebly, "low cloud?"
"No, it's smoke, I'll see if there's anything on the radio."

Sirens were screaming, FDNY Ladder 24, then, juxtaposing the numbers, 42 both sped past.

"A plane crashed into the North Tower," the voice was saying, and eyewitness reports from Brooklyn were talking about the smoke drifting that way, bearing paper debris from the stricken building.

As w'ere trying to make sense of it all, obviously an accident, the radio started screeching hysterically, "Another plane has hit the South Tower,".

And, as we swung on to Broadway, there they were, two towers ablaze. I paid my fare, generous tip, and rushed for the deli where I was to rendezvous with Tessa, a colleague who had been in the City overnight. But first to a pay phone, call my wife. No reply, left a garbled message fearing communications could become congested. Little did I know.

Met Tessa, quick bagel and out into the street. Hundreds of people, looking four miles to the Downtown skyline, staring up, speechless, disbelieving, gawking really. Smoke and flames belching unimaginably from the top floors of the Towers. Don't want to watch this any longer, upstairs to see our client where the day's schedule is already on hold. All clustered round CNN's pictures on the Boardroom TV. What the Hell?

9.30 a.m.: Stories, unsubstantiable, of other planes being hijacked; one dives into the Pentagon. Client employees feverishly trying to get lines, calling loved ones who might have been Downtown. Reports that a Tower might collapse. Do I want to go outside and look? Hell no, this is ghastly enough. US airspace is closed down. USAir Express aren't taking me home tonight. Try to call Avis, can't get through, tough enough to even get a line. Can't call home, can't call the office. Trapped in New York. But safe. And I always get home.

10.00 a.m.: South Tower falls, suddenly deaths which one hopes might only be in the score or hundreds, now clearly in the hundreds, perhaps worse. Parts of the Pentagon collapse.

10.30 a.m.: The North Tower starts to fall. Reports of a United Flight and a Delta Flight having been hijacked. The United plane apparently crashes in Pennsylvania. The Delta flight is safe. Client CEO, Steve, comes in, "It's our Pearl Harbour", he says and, from where we are, he's right.

11.00 a.m.: Worried about brother-in-law who works adjacent to the WTC, worried about wife's cousin who works in the Pentagon. Feeling completely numb, completely useless, brain almost paralysed, like a dreadful combination of jetlag and hangover. I'm at someone else's, a City's really, funeral and I'm an uninvited guest. Still can't contact home or work.

11.30 a.m.: Reports that subway service in Manhattan is shut down, as is all vehicle access with bridges, tunnels closed to traffic. No hotel rooms available. How the Hell am I going to get home? I always get home, I'm known for it!

12.00 p.m.: Finally get through to the office. The previous day we had hosted a conference and some of the guests were clients who desperately wanted to get home. Speak to friend Sandy, a bastion of common sense, "Look after Tessa," she says. Gee, thanks. But Sandy promises to call home and let my wife know I'm OK. Sort of.
Just then I get through to brother-in-law Bob. Phew, seems he'd been in Queens and not anywhere near the Trade Centre.
"The 59th Street Bridge is open," he says, "people are walking across it. Get to the other side of the Bridge and get a cab to McLoughlin's (in Astoria), the Guinness there is exceptional." Took one look at Tessa, 16 stone and that's not including a heavy suitcase. "Sorry Bob, can't do that, but thanks!" But at least now I knew for sure there was an escape.
That, and the thought of a Guinness and just speaking to someone outside Manhattan, was enough to re-engage the brain.

12.30 p.m.: Contact work again. Ask to speak to one of the visiting clients. "Why don't you rent a car at Burlington Airport and drive down? I'll meet you, take the keys, and drive it back." Seems like an idea anyway.

1.00 p.m.: Client calls from the office in Vermont: "Four of us are driving down. Not sure whether roads will be open but we'll keep in touch by cell-phone." Ah ha, a plan!
Our client's Broadway office is increasingly deserted as workers trickle home. If they can. Claustrophobic doesn't start to describe the atmosphere. I need some fresh air - grab Tessa and suggest lunch. Outside, it's quiet, little or no traffic, police and fire sirens, the occasional cab, but the streets are almost deserted.
We notice pedestrians shuffling towards Union Square from Downtown, some of them covered head-to-foot in ash, dust, some with torn clothes, bedraggled. The NYPD has closed all streets beyond Union Square to traffic so we go over to the Union Square Cafe, usually a popular upmarket eatery, tough to get a table. "Sorry sir, we only have a limited menu as our staff have not been able to get in." Seems every few minutes sees something I hadn't considered. Place just about empty, but I see a cold beer and they can "fix" a burger so we're in business.

2.00 p.m.: Still dozens, hundreds perhaps, of people walking dazed from Downtown. Back to the office where it's confirmed a rental car has been hired and our intrepid travellers are heading south. Please tell my wife. She is sick of me gloating I've never failed to make it home during years of very frequent travel. Determined nothing will stop us this time either.

4.00 p.m.: Client closes the office; CEO Steve invites Tessa and me to wait for "the car" at his Madison Square apartment. Just a few minutes' walk but, as we make our way, there are deafening sirens followed by a convoy of a dozen trucks - all medical provision 18-wheelers making their way through the roadblocks to Downtown. Don't even want to imagine what they might have on board.
Steve's lady seems happy to see us, coffee quickly served as I notice life-size graphic nude pen-and-ink portraits of her on the walls. More than I really want to see just now. Watch the carnage on the box - word that the first fatality to be identified was Father Mychal Judge, who had rushed to the Trade Centre on one of the Engines which had passed us. Eerie.

6.00 p.m.: News that parts of the Subway are opening up and we can get a train to the Bronx. Call "the car" and tell them to meet us at Broadway in Bronx. Great, they can catch the Subway back into Manhattan, we can take the keys and get outathere. Meet at 7.30.

7.00 p.m.: CEO Steve drives us through empty streets to Times Square Subway Station. I sit next to a man who watched the second plane hit from his seat on a Northwest plane at Newark. Still seemed shocked. Not surprising.

7.30 p.m.: Tessa and I make it to the Bronx, quickly see a honking great Lincoln TownCar and the gent who'd driven down - the rest had already scarpered but getting behind the wheel I knew we'd make it home.

8.15 p.m.: We stop at the first "Services" on the New York State Thruway. Grab a pay-phone and call home. Explain what we've done and that we're on our way home.
Another one of those moments: A trucker on the adjacent phone was obviously being told what had transpired all those hours ago. He was totally oblivious, presumably just driving through the glorious weather, fat, dumb and happy. Spoke to him afterwards - he just couldn't believe that his world had changed forever. Who would, really? Tessa is a country girl from Indiana and had to wait for her to call every bloody relative before we got cracking. Please don't let us get stopped for speeding. Stupidly, I really wanted to make sure I didn't miss a Lucinda Williams concert we had tickets for the following night. Car Wheels on a Gravel Road and all that.
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9/11, 10 years on.

The other R in Houston Well-Known Member

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9/11, 10 years on.

The other R in Houston Well-Known Member

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