I know many are tired of hearing of what happened on 9/11. No one needs to be reminded, we all remember clear as day. However, I'm the type of person that gets on with things by talking them through. Even if it's just writing out how I think on things, it helps me. So, feel free to not read this post. It's just my POV from that day and the way I saw things, and how they affected me on that day.
The weather on September 11, 2001 was very similar here in Chicago as it was in New York. Sunny, warm, a beautiful day. That sort of weather isn't unusual this time of year, but we know those nice days are numbered and we try to appreciate them when they come along. I parked at the train station like I do every day, paid my parking fee, and walked up to the tracks. I remember very distinctly a plane flying over the station. And it seemed to be flying pretty low. We're not close enough to O'Hare for that plane to have been so low, so I don't know what was going on. I suppose it wasn't an airliner, it didn't make as much noise, but it still seemed to be flying lower than normal. I thought it was odd and continued to wait for the train. That was around 7:00 am, central, 8:00 am eastern, or New York time. This would be about the time that the hijackers were boarding the planes. The half hour train ride was the same as usual. As was the shuttle bus ride to work. I remember when I came in to the building that a security guard was checking IDs. Later that day I thought that maybe it was because of what happened, but that was around 7:45 am and the first plane would have just hit. There's no way our security could have known about it, so it must have just been a random check day.
As was my usual routine, I went to the cafe, got a bagel and headed to my desk. As I was logging in and eating my bagel I overheard some people talking about a plane crash. Crass as it may sound, plane crashes, while big news, happen every now and then, and it's nothing to rush to a TV set over unless you know someone flying that day. So I went on with my breakfast and logging in. Upon getting into the system, I read my email and tried to log in to Yahoo to read my personal account. The internet connection was incredibly slow. I figured it was just one of those slow system days and didn't think much of it. By then others were talking about the plane crash. I heard someone mention a plane hit the World Trade Center in New York. Then I heard that two had hit. This was just after 8:00 am Chicago time, the second plane hit at 8:03 Chicago time. Not knowing exactly what happened, I assumed it was an accident. I figured two commuter plane bounced off each other and hit the towers. It wasn't unheard of. Two similar planes had crashed into a hospital in this area a couple of years ago. One of them piloted by Chicago Radio Host, Bob Collins. I thought this thing in New York was terrible, but certainly nothing to be overly concerned about.
More and more people were talking about the plane crash at work. At the time the office I was in was an open-space cube farm. Voices carry, but not so much that you hear absolutely every conversation. A lot of people were crowding around one desk. Someone had managed to get to a news website and was reading aloud the article which contained a picture of the huge fireball enveloping one of the towers. Even seeing this picture, I still didn't get it. I still did not realize exactly what happened. But everyone was standing around. Our IS department shut down internet access because the servers could not handle it. Those that had radios at their desks turned them on. People crowded around to hear what was happening. Then I got the full story.
Two planes, large airliners, 757 type deals had crashed into the Twin Towers. "Was it an accident?" I asked, thinking that something had gone wrong on take off or landing and two airplanes had hit the buildings. "No, it was done on purpose. One plane it, then another about 15 minutes later. Full speed." My stomach knotted. "Start praying" someone said. What the hell was going on? More news. The Pentagon had been hit with an airliner too. The Pentagon. Something was up. Three planes made it glaringly obvious this was not an accident. A report came in that another plane had crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. There were reports about bombs going off in Washington DC. Downtown Chicago was evacuated. Offices at our company in downtown areas of major cities were evacuated. Our NY offices were not in the WTC, thankfully, but clients were. Things started shutting down. Malls. Museums. Government offices. Metra, our train service to the suburbs started running extra trains out of the city. As soon as they were full they would go. No schedule, just fill and go. Traffic was backed up. People were allowed to go home early if they wanted. Some did. Some didn't want to. Some didn't feel safe, others felt there was no where to be safe. I stayed. Partially because I had no way of getting back to the train station until the shuttle came that evening. Not much work was done that day. Meetings and training classes were cancelled. People tried to work after awhile but didn't get much accomplished. One thing I remember very distinctly is the sound of the hum of AM radios playing everywhere. I'll always remember that hum, and it will always remind me of that day. It was everywhere at work. Every hall you went down, even parts of the building that had offices instead of cubes, the hum was there.
The train ride home was quiet. We talked on the shuttle bus but most people were just shocked senseless. No one knew how to react. Most people didn't know anyone in the areas affected, but you never knew. People I think were just trying to stay calm. I got home and flipped on the news. For the first time I saw the pictures of what happened. The tapes of filming live the second tower being hit. The tapes of both towers collapsing. I had heard about this at work, but could not imagine in a million years what it looked like. Everyone said it was like a movie. It was. A war zone. This couldn't be New York, this couldn't be America, not and still be real life. It looked like something out of a Futuristic Apocalypse movie. It couldn't be happening. But it was. I watched TV that night just being shock. Numbed. I couldn't turn away from the coverage. I felt that I needed to see what was happening. I had to know all the details. It's just how I deal with this sort of thing. History is happening and I want to know as much as possible. The news was reporting about the people who had died, the thousands that were missing. The worry that there was more to come. There was a report that a bomb was in the Empire State building. That turned out not to be true. But that day was so surreal, so scary, anything was possible. Nightmares came to life and walked the Earth. Nothing was impossible.
It was not until two days later that the scope of the event hit me, and hit hard. It was evening, and I was watching the round-the-clock news coverage. I simply could not take my eyes away. I felt a compulsion to watch it. And watch I did. One channel, I don't remember which, was talking to some people who had missing loved ones. There were posters and posters of people missing all over the city, near the WTC and in other spots. I think someone collected some posters for a museum exhibit. I know there are pictures out there. Anyway, the show was interviewing this one guy in particular. His new wife or fiance was missing. He was so distraught. He wasn't alone in his pain but yet he was alone. He had lost the love of his life. He didn't know if she was lying in a hospital somewhere with a Jane Doe on her sheet or if she was dead. Most likely it was the latter. Yet he had hope. All of those people had hope. There was nothing left to cling to, nothing more they had left but hope. That's when it hit me. It's easy to think of casualties as just a number. More than two thousand people died that day. But if you think of it as just a number, then that's all it is. It's not until it sinks in that you realize that more than two thousand lives were affected. Two thousand families. Those people had kids, parents, sisters, brothers, and friends. Those people were MY age! I think that was the scariest part of all. This was a tremendous blow to my generation. Many, many of the people that died were "Generation X" mid twenties to late thirties or so. Not all, but most. It could have easily been a friend of mine, a relative, or me myself. Realizing all this I broke down, and for the first time cried over the events. I sobbed. Uncontrollable. I didn't know any of these people. I wasn't related, I wasn't even directly affected. My my fellow humans were, they were people too, in my age group especially. The grief was undescribable. This was not only a horrible thing done to humanity, and to America, it was a horrible thing done to people my own age. People with the same hopes and dreams as me. People who wanted to make something of themselves, make their parents proud, be the best person they could be. They were going about their every day lives. And now that was over.
September 11 will always be with me, just like it will be with every American. I can't imagine how it will be to describe the events of that day to a younger generation. To those that weren't born yet, or too young to remember what happened. I'm sure it won't be as horrible for them, just at Pearl Harbor never seemed as horrible to me. It does now. I wish I hadn't gotten the reminder. And I hope generations to come never get one either.
