September 11th

September 11th 2001,  I was working at a pharmaceutical advertising agency in Manhattan. That morning when I got on the G-train in Brooklyn, I saw a friend I knew from Pratt. She was the first person I remember who was riding everywhere on a scooter. She was from Sweden, I think. After she sold her scooter, I noticed that a LOT of people were riding scooters. Businessmen were riding to work on them, and of course proto-hipsters were riding them to their favorite coffee shops.

We talked a bit before transferring to different trains at Fulton Street. Soon after, I emerged from the subway at 33d Street in Manhattan to find that the streets were mostly empty and quiet. Usually, a throng of teenagers were hanging out waiting to go into the nearby high school. As I walked to my work place I noticed Con Ed workers hanging out in their trucks listening to the radio. I thought I heard something about an airplane hitting the World Trade Center but wasn’t sure.

By the time I got to the office, everyone was trying to get a TV working. Way back in 2001 not everyone had WiFi and instant news in their pocket. Rumors circulated that part of a tower fell, and maybe another plane hit the other tower? We eventually found out the reality of the situation when the one television in the office finally got a fuzzy picture of the unbelievable.

One of the executives at the office, an executive who usually spent his time yelling at people and who I had no respect for, told everyone to sit tight and let him know if we "needed anything." It was easy to see he was putting on a fairly false veneer of a “fearless leader.” I grabbed my bag and left the building.

I headed uptown in what was a parade of people who, like me, decided to start walking home. Buses and subways were not running. I started walking across the Queensboro Bridge with a large mass of like minded people. One woman next to me was in a dress but had no shoes on. We were all fairly quiet and continually glanced back towards downtown and the large plume of smoke.

In Brooklyn the G-train was not running, but an empty bus showed up at its designated stop. The mass of people in the street swarmed around the bus door in order to get on. The driver opened the door, stood there preventing anyone from entering and said, “I have to go use the bathroom first!” I thought moaning and complaining would ensue, but everyone just stood there quietly as she walked away and a military jet screamed across the sky above us.

I didn’t know where this particular bus went, just that it was headed for my part of Brooklyn. When the driver returned from the bathroom I managed to get on, and just like the walk on the bridge, everyone remained mostly silent. When I saw familiar streets near my neighborhood I got off, and walked another few miles in what I remember being a beautiful cool crisp day.

Once home, I called my Mom to let her know I was alive.