emergency room, their bodies bloodied and battered. People at this point were frantically running, not jogging, running towards the Brooklyn Bridge as a means to get out. I also decided it was also time for me to bounce. I grab my bag and headset to make a run over the bridge, back to my borough. As I am snatching things up, a feel a rumble-one I have never experienced in my 22 years- and the windows start to shake. Tower Two has just collapsed. Within five minutes the streets are covered with brown soot and you can barely see out of the windows. Going down to the lobby-at this point we are instructed to get out, but people are coming in off the street, for shelter, covered from head to toe with WTC as. I look around and there is utter fear and total chaos all around. I see women and men crying, police officers trying to keep everyone calm in this situation, who are clearly rattled themselves. At this point I go to the restroom to have a smoke and upon entering the men’s room I see a mirror image from outside. Panic is the general emotion everyone is feeling. And this is one of the strangest moments in my life, because never before have I witnessed or been in a room where men are openly stating their fear. As I am finishing up my smoke a police Officer comes in covered in brown ash. He proceeds to wash off the ash as he tells his tale “I was standing at the WTC, when it can crashing down. The streets were dark and I could not breathe or see. I had to break a store window, just to get air!”
He goes on to say that he had to leave a couple of people injured in the store, but was adamant about not going back to retrieve them. And who could honestly blame him? By now both towers have collapsed and I am still trapped in this damn building. The tension and fear is increasing becoming too much to bear. All I could think of was how many people must be dead and I wondered if I knew any of them. As we are sitting around (trapped, it was impossible to go out) listening to the radio, we hear about the attack on the Pentagon. I must be dreaming, this shi*t doesn’t happen in America. But as the morning goes on and more and more ash covered people come through the doors, I realize this is America, but someone just said the hell with everybody there. Finally the smoke, wind and debris clears enough, a few co-workers and myself attempt to walk over the bridge. At this time police are still out there, trying to calm people, offer assistance and restore order. They are insisted we walk over the Manhattan Bridge instead of the Brooklyn-since it was jammed packed, looking similar to the New York City Marathon at start. On my way to the bridge, I can’t help but look over my shoulder to see if the towers are really gone. All I see is smoke. The once mighty symbol is gone. It was like a prize fighter had just got his two front teeth knocked out. This was a horrendous day to say the least. It’s one of those days that probably had Bill Cosby saying what the f--- is going on. September 11th or 9-11 as some refer to it, will probably go down as the deadliest event in America’s if not the world’s history.
Today as I reflect on that day I realize that we are living in a changed world. I look at what use to be the World Trade Centers every morning and have mixed emotions. First I feel a genuine sadness, but then I feel a sense of appreciation. Not for the destruction, but for being fortunate enough to be alive and also for not losing loved ones in that barbaric attack. Now when I go to work in the morning, grabbing my breakfast, but instead of flashing my id badge and keep it moving, I am at the back of a long line. I, with everyone else entering the building, must put our bags on a conveyor belt as we walk through metal detectors. Streets that were once open to traffic are now closed. Cops are everywhere. Basically everyone is a suspect. Bombs, planes, anthrax. Are on everyone’s mind, including mines. But what can you do? I say my prayers every night and every morning before I leave out. Because when it is my time to go, all I can do is put my head between my legs and kiss my ass goodbye.
PS. God Bless all the families that lost loved ones on 911. I pray that time heals your wounds. |
