September 11, 2001
I originally wrote this years ago, when the events of September 11, 2001 were fresh in my head. It's somewhat blurrier now, but every year I re-read what I wrote.
I hope it never happens again.
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On September 11, 2001, I was working as a consultant to the US Senate.
That morning, like most other mornings, I took the MARC train (a commuter train, not the subway) into DC. As the train was pulling into Union Station, my cell phone rang. It was my husband, who was supposed to go into work late that day, telling me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. He didn't have a lot of details, but told me they thought it was a Cessna or some other small plane. (Mr. LT had been taking flying lessons - in the end, it turned out that one of the terrorists had tried - but never succeeded - to take lessons at the airport where Mr. LT had been taking lessons.) I mentioned it to the other people on the train, because I was so shocked, and one of the other people confirmed that they'd heard it on their walkman [ed: walkman! wow].
I got off the train and walked over to the government building where I was working at the time. I asked the security guards in the lobby if they'd heard anything, and they hadn't. Got on the elevator and went to the floor where the Senate's offices are, and when I reached the floor's lobby, I asked the Capitol Police officer who was resposnsible for security if she had heard anything. She told me that a second plane had just crashed into the other tower (I don't know if I've ever heard words that scared me more - one plane = fluke, two planes = attack), and that there was a television in the office around the corner that I could look at if I wanted to. So I walked into the little office and saw some of the footage of the smoke billowing out of the towers, and a replay of the second plane hitting the tower.
Of course, by now I'm very late for my morning meeting, but I really don't care a whit. I must have been as white as a ghost when I walked in, because there was almost a blanket "what's wrong?" look from everyone. I know I had a hard time telling everyone - the meeting had started at 8:30 [ed: one of my co-workers told me years later that he'd been upset at me for being late to the meeting at the time], and nobody had come and told the meeting participants about what had been happening while they were meeting. I stumbled over the words, trying not to cry. We all sat there in shock for several minutes, and talked about what this might mean. It was about 9:10 when I had walked into the room. We then half-heartedly finished the meeting, and several of us had a second meeting at 9:30 that we stayed in the room to conduct.
A little after 9:40am, my cell phone rang. Mr. LT was calling me to tell me that a plane had hit the Pentagon. I relayed the information to the other people in the room, and Mr. LT asked me to please come home immediately - there were other planes that seemed to be out of their flight patterns, and nobody knew what was next. I decided that Mr. LT was right, that there was no point to me staying, and told my co-workers that I was leaving. I packed up my stuff, and went to check the Capitol Police's television again, and left.
I got outside the building at 9:50am, and stood there shaking for a while, checking the MARC train schedule to see when the next train back to my car was running. The next train wasn't scheduled to leave Union Station until 10:20am, and a half hour seemed like too much time to sit around and wait for a train. The DC Metro (the subway) also runs out of Union Station, with trains leaving every 7 minutes or so, so I decided to take the Metro out of DC and worry about getting to my car later. (I made the right decision - the 10:20 train never left Union Station that day.) (you know, I can feel the adrenaline while I'm writing this - I was more scared than I'd ever been before in my life.)
The Metro station wasn't very crowded at that point - a lot of people hadn't decided what to do yet. I remember thinking that Union Station was a landmark in DC, and feeling like a target while waiting for the subway train to arrive to take me out of the city. I hopped on the next train that took me in the direction of my house (the Metro line ends about 10 miles from where we lived), with a bunch of other strangers who instantly bonded. We were all so happy to be getting out of the city. We were underground in the subway tunnels for a while, and then the train went to an elevated track, and we could see the smoke from the Pentagon billowing everywhere. There were lots of conflicting stories - that another plane had crashed, that a bomb had gone off in the West Wing of the White House... We didn't know what to believe, but we were all relived to be moving away from the city. I had one of the few cell phones that could actually make calls (most of the cell carriers' systems were overloaded), and ended up passing my phone around the train so everyone could call their loved ones. When we were nearing the end of the line, where we'd all get off the train, I asked for my phone back, explaining that I needed to call Mr. LT to come pick me up and take me to my car.
Immediately, several people asked me where I lived (Crofton, MD, if it matters), and one of the women said that she lived in the next town south (Bowie, where the MARC train station where I'd left my car that morning is) and that she'd take me home. I asked her to take me to the MARC train station instead of home, and she said that'd be fine. So off I went with a stranger, to get a ride back to my car. I called Mr. LT to let him know he didn't need to leave the house. Strangely, I don't remember the woman's name, but she was a piece of work. She didn't want to turn on news radio, and made me listen to these Burt Bacharach recordings that were pirated - she's a big Burt fan, and was so proud to have them. We also had to stop by her house so she could check in, and prove to her mother (who is pretty old, and was living with my new friend) that she was actually alive, as apparently a voice on a phone doesn't prove that... :)
I finally got dropped off at my car, and thanked the nice woman for helping me. And immediately turned on WTOP, which is the DC area's all-news radio station. I wanted to know what was happening, although at that point it was all reaction, nothing really going on. Called Mr. LT again to let him know where I was, and he asked me to pick Burger up at school - he'd tried once, but the school didn't want release kids at that point, but he wanted her home NOW. So I drove over to the school, and the school was releasing kids left and right at this point.
I'd held it together until I saw Burger walking down the hall toward me. The tears just started running down my face, and I was so so so happy to see her, and know that she was safe. The school hadn't told her what had happened, so I gently explained what I knew, and hugged her tightly. Then we went home and Mr. LT and I watched it all (Burger was allowed to watch a little, but thankfully, she was more interested in playing with her friends), and talked about it all, and cried, and were (and are) so grateful that we were together, and safe, and then we cried some more for all of the families that weren't so lucky.
If you've read this far - I can't believe that just poured out of me. Cathartic. Hold the people you love, and hope that we never have to face a day like that again.
I hope it never happens again.
--------------------------
On September 11, 2001, I was working as a consultant to the US Senate.
That morning, like most other mornings, I took the MARC train (a commuter train, not the subway) into DC. As the train was pulling into Union Station, my cell phone rang. It was my husband, who was supposed to go into work late that day, telling me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. He didn't have a lot of details, but told me they thought it was a Cessna or some other small plane. (Mr. LT had been taking flying lessons - in the end, it turned out that one of the terrorists had tried - but never succeeded - to take lessons at the airport where Mr. LT had been taking lessons.) I mentioned it to the other people on the train, because I was so shocked, and one of the other people confirmed that they'd heard it on their walkman [ed: walkman! wow].
I got off the train and walked over to the government building where I was working at the time. I asked the security guards in the lobby if they'd heard anything, and they hadn't. Got on the elevator and went to the floor where the Senate's offices are, and when I reached the floor's lobby, I asked the Capitol Police officer who was resposnsible for security if she had heard anything. She told me that a second plane had just crashed into the other tower (I don't know if I've ever heard words that scared me more - one plane = fluke, two planes = attack), and that there was a television in the office around the corner that I could look at if I wanted to. So I walked into the little office and saw some of the footage of the smoke billowing out of the towers, and a replay of the second plane hitting the tower.
Of course, by now I'm very late for my morning meeting, but I really don't care a whit. I must have been as white as a ghost when I walked in, because there was almost a blanket "what's wrong?" look from everyone. I know I had a hard time telling everyone - the meeting had started at 8:30 [ed: one of my co-workers told me years later that he'd been upset at me for being late to the meeting at the time], and nobody had come and told the meeting participants about what had been happening while they were meeting. I stumbled over the words, trying not to cry. We all sat there in shock for several minutes, and talked about what this might mean. It was about 9:10 when I had walked into the room. We then half-heartedly finished the meeting, and several of us had a second meeting at 9:30 that we stayed in the room to conduct.
A little after 9:40am, my cell phone rang. Mr. LT was calling me to tell me that a plane had hit the Pentagon. I relayed the information to the other people in the room, and Mr. LT asked me to please come home immediately - there were other planes that seemed to be out of their flight patterns, and nobody knew what was next. I decided that Mr. LT was right, that there was no point to me staying, and told my co-workers that I was leaving. I packed up my stuff, and went to check the Capitol Police's television again, and left.
I got outside the building at 9:50am, and stood there shaking for a while, checking the MARC train schedule to see when the next train back to my car was running. The next train wasn't scheduled to leave Union Station until 10:20am, and a half hour seemed like too much time to sit around and wait for a train. The DC Metro (the subway) also runs out of Union Station, with trains leaving every 7 minutes or so, so I decided to take the Metro out of DC and worry about getting to my car later. (I made the right decision - the 10:20 train never left Union Station that day.) (you know, I can feel the adrenaline while I'm writing this - I was more scared than I'd ever been before in my life.)
The Metro station wasn't very crowded at that point - a lot of people hadn't decided what to do yet. I remember thinking that Union Station was a landmark in DC, and feeling like a target while waiting for the subway train to arrive to take me out of the city. I hopped on the next train that took me in the direction of my house (the Metro line ends about 10 miles from where we lived), with a bunch of other strangers who instantly bonded. We were all so happy to be getting out of the city. We were underground in the subway tunnels for a while, and then the train went to an elevated track, and we could see the smoke from the Pentagon billowing everywhere. There were lots of conflicting stories - that another plane had crashed, that a bomb had gone off in the West Wing of the White House... We didn't know what to believe, but we were all relived to be moving away from the city. I had one of the few cell phones that could actually make calls (most of the cell carriers' systems were overloaded), and ended up passing my phone around the train so everyone could call their loved ones. When we were nearing the end of the line, where we'd all get off the train, I asked for my phone back, explaining that I needed to call Mr. LT to come pick me up and take me to my car.
Immediately, several people asked me where I lived (Crofton, MD, if it matters), and one of the women said that she lived in the next town south (Bowie, where the MARC train station where I'd left my car that morning is) and that she'd take me home. I asked her to take me to the MARC train station instead of home, and she said that'd be fine. So off I went with a stranger, to get a ride back to my car. I called Mr. LT to let him know he didn't need to leave the house. Strangely, I don't remember the woman's name, but she was a piece of work. She didn't want to turn on news radio, and made me listen to these Burt Bacharach recordings that were pirated - she's a big Burt fan, and was so proud to have them. We also had to stop by her house so she could check in, and prove to her mother (who is pretty old, and was living with my new friend) that she was actually alive, as apparently a voice on a phone doesn't prove that... :)
I finally got dropped off at my car, and thanked the nice woman for helping me. And immediately turned on WTOP, which is the DC area's all-news radio station. I wanted to know what was happening, although at that point it was all reaction, nothing really going on. Called Mr. LT again to let him know where I was, and he asked me to pick Burger up at school - he'd tried once, but the school didn't want release kids at that point, but he wanted her home NOW. So I drove over to the school, and the school was releasing kids left and right at this point.
I'd held it together until I saw Burger walking down the hall toward me. The tears just started running down my face, and I was so so so happy to see her, and know that she was safe. The school hadn't told her what had happened, so I gently explained what I knew, and hugged her tightly. Then we went home and Mr. LT and I watched it all (Burger was allowed to watch a little, but thankfully, she was more interested in playing with her friends), and talked about it all, and cried, and were (and are) so grateful that we were together, and safe, and then we cried some more for all of the families that weren't so lucky.
If you've read this far - I can't believe that just poured out of me. Cathartic. Hold the people you love, and hope that we never have to face a day like that again.
Labels: Burger, family, Mr. LT, reflections
posted by Little Things at
11:12 AM
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