11 Story

My 9/11 Story I bought this image after 9/11, when I went to see an art exhibit called Here Is New York. I got it framed, and it hung in my kitchen for a while. Since we moved to our new apartment, its been in the closet. I have to admit, it still deeply saddens me to see it. Ive recently learned the picture was taken by Katie Day Weisberger, who was only a college freshman at the time, and it was the highest-selling photo in the exhibit. I debated whether I wanted to share my 9/11 story here. Ive always made it a point to keep most holiday-ish, political-ish stuff off of this space, focusing instead on whatever content I felt would help creative types discover/devise the career they think they cant have. I was set on not posting this here, until the day started looming closer and I realized how much this is part of my story, and how much I wanted to share it with you. My story and the pictures that I chose to illustrate it might be upsetting to some, so feel free to skip this one if you wish. Otherwise, join me in holding this 10th anniversary close to your heart, and take some time out of your Sunday to remember all of those who were heroes that day. I know I will. The sun was shining and the weather glorious as I got ready to go to work the morning of September 11, 2001. I was due at 88 Greenwich Street .7 mi away from the World Trade Center at 10a that day. At that point, I had worked for the luxury rental company as an apartment show-er (I have to add the hyphen so you didnt think that I was an apartment shower, as in getting clean under water), for about a year (I think), and that morning I was due to meet my boss and my boss boss to talk about becoming the office manager. I was still hell-bent on My Broadway Dreams back then, but I liked the day job and the company because I could have my choice of which 4 days I wanted to work each week, and was always able to schedule it around my auditions. I lived with my boyfriend in East Harlem then, east of 1st Avenue (Id tell you exactly, but you would never have heard of it). We left together to go to the train a little before 9a. He told me later that day that he heard Howard Stern talk about the first plane that morning before we left, but didnt pay it much attention he figured it was a freak accident. He turned off the radio before he could hear about the second plane, and we made our way to the 6 train. At 86th Street I went downstairs to transfer to the express, and he headed outside to get a haircut before he went to his retail job in Union Square. It usually took about 20 minutes or so to make it from 86th St to Wall Street on 4/5, but that day it took double that if not longer. I remember looking at my watch multiple times, increasingly frustrated and upset, picturing my boss and my boss boss waiting for me at the office, and me coming off as unprofessional and irresponsible. And while the train seemed to take an eternity getting from one station to the next, it still chugged along. At around 10a, we stopped at the Brooklyn Bridge stop, just 1 stop from where I needed to get off and half a mile from the World Trade Center. The conductor came through loud and clear for once, and he announced that someone has pulled the emergency brake. Were not sure why, and we must investigate before we start moving again. To this day, Im unsure if that was the truth or if that was a way to get everyone to evacuate without panicking. Im also unsure why they took us so far downtown, so close to What Was Happening and I have a feeling that Ill never know. I headed towards the exit quickly, figuring Id get above ground and call my office from my cell, explaining about the delay and letting them know I was walking the rest of the way and should be there in another 15 minutes or so. I think The Uh-Oh Feeling cut in as soon as I made it to the main entrance of the subway. I couldnt put my finger on what was happening, but the panic I felt in the air and the looks on peoples facesI remember looking around , expecting to see someone with a gun holding up the station or something similarly crazy-scary. I didnt find that, obviously, but I remember I had a furrowed brow and a pit in my stomach as I climbed the stairs to get to the street. The first thing I noticed were the police stationed near the subway steps, positioned every few feet. Beyond them, hordes of people spilling out of buildings and standing on the street, facing downtown but not moving at all. And above us all, snow? Confetti? Paper. Little tiny specks of paper, floating down to us from the sky. I was still focused on reaching my office, but the policeman stopped me, telling me that nobody was allowed downtown, and to start walking back uptown. I overheard someone say that two planes crashed into each other above the World Trade Center, and my thoughts immediately went to my family. They knew I worked down there, and I was sure they were worried sick. I joined the throngs and started to head uptown, dialing my Moms number along the way. Dont bother, someone said. All cell phone service is down. Nobodys phone works. I got on line at a pay phone, probably 20 people deep, and waited. Being a true New Yorker, I still kept trying on my cell, and I still dont know how I got through to my Mom. I told her I was OK, and not to worry, and to pass the message along for me. I dont remember if I spoke to her directly, or if I got a machine, but I knew then that my family knew I was safe, and thats what mattered. I started walking uptown towards Union Square. My apartment was over 100 blocks away, but I knew I could get to my boyfriends store in under an hour and, hopefully, meet him there. I still was unclear as to what happened, and stopped at cars that were parked on the street, groups of people huddled around to listen to the radio. It was there that I saw the 2nd tower fall. Someone started screaming and I followed her gaze just in time to see that  antennae  sink below the cityscape before me. I stood there, my hand covering my mouth, sobbing, until I turned around and started walking back uptown, hurried this time, wanting to run away. I saw this image in the recent issue of New York magazine and gasped. Thats what I remember watching from the street the clear blue sky, the smoke, the top few floors of the building, and the sinking of the antennae. I made it to Union Square. The store was dark, but there were people inside, and I knocked on the door. The employees that were there recognized me and let me in, even though my boyfriend wasnt there yet. Thankfully, I knew he was safe uptown, so I didnt worry too much. I hoped hed make it there, figure out that was where Id go, and he did just that. We spent hours in the store, listening to the radio and trying unsuccessfully to get online to get more information. In the late afternoon, my boyfriend convinced me to get back on the subway to head home. I was nervous of an attack down there, but my aching feet and the 100 blocks separating Union Square and East Harlem convinced me to take the train. We rode uptown without incident but in an eerie quiet for NYC and went to the local pizza place to finally get a bite. The TV was on there, and its where I saw my first images of the day. I was so horrified and so saddened, but it didnt prevent me from being glued to the TV for days, waiting for information on Ground Zero, the victims, and the city itself. Four days later, I headed back to work, .7 miles from Ground Zero, as the buildings were open and the office needed help manning the phones for the residents.  I had to get a letter saying I worked in the area, and show it along with my ID to the National Guard at certain checkpoints in the neighborhood. Id spend the day in the street-level office, watching still-smoldering pieces of metal be driven down the street in flatbed trucks. Id go home with red eyes, a bad cough, and a bad attitude from being yelled at for 8 hours a day from residents who wanted to get out of their leases, and the management company having us 20something-year-old women who got paid $100/day tell them why it wasnt feasible. It took me only a couple of weeks to come to my senses and leave that job, for both mental and physical reasons. I left for the safety of uptown, working as a receptionist at a real estate office in midtown east, and stayed there until I got cast in a show in Key West that October. As you could imagine, there werent a lot of tourists down in Key West all the cruise ships stopped for quite a while, if I remember correctly and that contract ended a few weeks early. I didnt come back to New York until January 2002, and while things still felt raw, I still felt like I was coming home. New York has always been my home. I grew up on Long Island, and have resided in The City for 15 years. While Im still shocked, amazed, and grateful that I didnt personally know anyone that perished that day, walking the streets and seeing all of the missing persons postersI still think back to that time, and what life must be like for those who were personally effected, even 10 years later, and my heartit just breaks. I wish I could put a lesson here, like, But now I know how strong we are or But now we know the meaning of community, but it feels false, because I wish I didnt know any of those things as a direct result of 9/11. So all I can say ishere is My Story. Here is how Ill Remember. Here is how I will Never Forget.