9/11: My Story

It's been six years. It's already been six years and it's only been six years. I was actually surprised that the Today show this morning wasn't overdoing its "America Remembers" series. Or maybe that's CNN? Maybe we're moving on?

Since 9/11 will be one of those days that we recount time and time again, as in a "where were you when..." story. Our parents had JFK and the landing on the moon. We, and they, have 9/11 (and the Challenger explosion.) This is how I remember and will retell my 9/11 story:

I was in a job at GWU that I hated and had a hard time pulling myself out of bed. As usual, I turned on the Today show while I was getting ready for work. The usual stories of the day were on and somewhere around 8:45am, when I needed to leave for work, Katie Couric announced that they would be back with breaking news. I thought it had to do with Chandra Levy, so I turned off the TV and headed to work.

The next day, September 12, I had a doctor's appointment to go to. I hadn't been to the doctor in years and I was worried he would find me unhealthy. So, on September 11, instead of taking the elevator up to the 2nd floor for work, I opted for the stairs. A last ditch effort to break up any cholesterol I had and to get my heart pumping healthily. By taking the stairs, I bypassed the bank of TVs that would have certainly been tuned to the breaking news story of the day.

Up in the gallery, I was hanging the last of the artwork for our exhibition before my boss came in. The phone rang, and it was my Dad. He told me that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. It can be amusing, in hindsight, what the first reactions are to a tragedy. We both knew it was bad (although we didn't really know how bad at the time) and our conversation went something like this:

Me: Wow. So, I guess a lot of people died?
Dad: I don't know. I would guess. It's crazy. The World Trade Center is so big that the plane didn't even come out of the other side.

In hindsight, neither of us knew how to react to this news, nor did we know that our comments would be recounted for years to come. We did not know how big the plane was and there is history of small planes crashing into the World Trade Center. I was thinking it was a small plane, and couldn't really understand why my father was calling me. Then my dad ends the conversation with some reference to hearing that the Pentagon was on fire and I assured him I was headed down to the TVs to check it out.

I go down to the TVs and the area is mobbed with students. It was there that I watched one of the towers fall, but I can't remember which one. A security officer ordered all students back to their dorms. I asked him, "what about staff?" He said, "If I were you, I'd get the hell out of here." Someone lived in Pentagon City and asked him what she should do. He told her to head north.

Panic mode hit. I tried calling my friend who worked on the Hill but since cell phones were so overloaded, I couldn't get through. I tried to call other friends in DC, but had no luck, so I headed home. The streets were completely clogged with traffic, cars were getting nowhere. I looked toward the direction of the Pentagon and could see a little smoke. I lived right across from the State Dept. and feared that it, too, would be a target. Back at my apartment, I could get through to people on email, letting them know I was ok. My mom somehow got through to me and told me that I needed to get out of the city. She didn't realize that that was pretty much impossible.

I was able, though, to get up to Van Ness to seek refuge at a friend's apartment. It just seemed safer up there. Another friend joined us and for hours, we watched the news coverage. We watched the events unfold, be recounted and analyzed. Too stunned to really talk. It wasn't until hours later, that our one friend informed us that her dad worked at the World Trade Center. He was in England, though, and was not harmed. I couldn't believe it took her so long to tell us. She must have been in shock.

Eventually we felt the need to get out of the apartment and away from the TV. Chadwick's, in Friendship Heights, was pretty much the only thing we could find that was open. We just wanted a quick bite to eat. Our waiter told us that all appetizers were half off. My friend asks, "Is it because of the crisis?" He says, "No, it is happy hour." It was 5:00pm. And, technically, happy hour.

I had a lot of bad dreams that night, basically of being trapped inside falling buildings. The next morning I went to my doctor's appointment. I was pronounced healthy...