That Day

I was sitting in my office catching up on emails when a young assistant comes running in to tell me that a plane just hit one of WTC towers. Like many people, I just thought it was a mere pilot error, but got up and walked into the conference room to join my co-workers in watching the morning newscast.

My first reaction was, "What was this pilot thinking?" when we saw the second plane hit. Now we knew it was no accident.

I knew who was responsible the minute I saw this and it came as no surprise. What DID come as a surprise was the collapse of the first tower, and later the second. I don't think anything could prepare us for that.

I am not a person who cries easily but that day was the exception. The same was true for many of my co-workers, of all ages, both men and women.

Needless to say, our CEO called us all into the conference room and sent us home early. Getting home is another story and I'll spare you that one.

I do remember walking up to Fifth Avenue and looking towards downtown. Even from Midtown Manhattan, you could see the billowing smoke all too clearly. It was a surreal expereince but then I remembered it was not surreal, but all too real.

Taking the ferry over to Weehawken (no buses or trains were running), I sat next to a woman who was clearly agitated, more so than I. I tried to distract her a bit by getting her to talk about her pets. It worked for the time being.

The next day, my family was upset when I told them I was planning to go back to work on 9-12, so I stayed home that day, as did most of my co-workers and clients. Not knowing what to do with myself, I got on line at the Blood Bank in West Orange to give back in the only way I knew how at the time.

My tears and sadness quickly turned to anger and that anger has remained to this day, 9-11-06.