Personal experiences

Jersey City, NJ
Back in 2001, it was my second day of my junior year of high school at St Peter's Prep, Jersey City, NJ. As on any other beautiful fall morning, the World Trade Center towers, so uninspiring from close up, looked spectacular from across the harbor when I got to school. Then, in the midst of my second period US History class, my former biology teacher, whose room was directly upstairs from where we were sitting, burst in, asking (in the sort of inanity we all perpetrate when faced with something incomprehensible) "Does anyone here have a camera? Two planes just hit the World Trade Center!" We all rushed over to the window to see what was going on. Despite being back-lit by the morning sun, the shadowy towers were glowing ghastly orange where they'd been blown up. Someone handed me a camera and I leaned out the window to document what was happening (it didn't seem to occur to any of us that this would be documented all too well).

We drifted through the rest of the school day--with the trains stopped dead in their tracks and half the streets closed except for emergency vehicles, there was nowhere to go anyway. While putting some books away in my locker, I heard from my "neighbor" at the next locker over that one of the towers had fallen down. "Sure it did," I said. Like my bio teacher who had broken the news that morning, this kid wasn't always the most reliable source of information, and from where we sat on Grand Street in Jersey City, just three blocks from the opposite shore of the harbor, less than a mile and a half from what was happening, we couldn't see anything but smoke. I assured him he'd probably just lost sight of the building behind the grayish plume that filled the sky.

I called my mother, elsewhere in Jersey City, from a payphone before I went to class, just to let her know I was all right and see if she knew anything more than I did. "The World Trade Centers [sic...some people used the term in its plural form at the time, although it's less common now] collapsed...they're just gone," she said. Funny how you remember individual sentences.

Meanwhile, on the western end of 57th Street in Manhattan, my father's 53rd birthday was, to put it mildly, ruined. He had watched the events unfold from a conference room window at WCBS-AM news-radio, where he worked at the time. To his amazement, his colleagues had gathered around a television set to see what was going on despite the fact it was going on just 75 blocks away out the window. Times like this, he reminisced whenever he looked back on the day (he passed away last year, unrelated of course), brought out people's most basic instincts, and the most basic instinct among most at CBS, even in the radio division, was apparently to watch television.

The school day got weirder and weirder as it progressed, understandably. Our principal reminded us that none of us could fix everything ourselves, so we shouldn't overreach and try to help stranded classmates get home unless they first contacted their families and made clear where they were going and when. His remark "There will be no heroes today," rings in my ears when I think about it. Obviously, he didn't mean none at all, but it's a small glimmer of accidental dark humor in what was otherwise an unbearably dark day. By day's end, the cafeteria had developed, as Simon and Garfunkel might put it, "an atmosphere of freaky holiday." Students, teachers, parents who had come to escort their kids home and see if there was anybody else they could help with a lift, janitors, everybody sat and jabbered mindless jabber, trying to find some shred of normalcy. A friend and fellow New York Giants fan quipped, however tastelessly (I've learned that in times this dark, the impulse to laugh to keep from crying trumps all decorum) "This is the only time the Jets will ever beat the Giants."

My mother met me outside the school at day's end, and as F16's shrieked overhead (I remember thinking they were scarier than anything else going on), we headed through what open streets we could find, through the Greenville neighborhood where she'd spent her early childhood in the 1950s, where my immigrant grandfather had owned a print shop for many years, west to our home in Union County. It was only as we cruised along the eerily empty (even for mid-afternoon) Pulaski Skyway that it even occurred to me to cry, and cry I did. On the way home, we picked my dad up at the train station, and set a record for the longest group hug in history.

What makes the day so surreal to me, whenever I see or read anything about it, is that I realize how different it must have been for anyone who wasn't here, wasn't right on top of it, didn't smell the smoke. My cousin's now-wife was coated in soot when she got home, having been downtown for an audition. She was lucky she wasn't hurt, and I consider myself lucky that I wasn't any closer than I was. But let me tell you, whatever rhetoric the politicians were already starting in with by the end of the day, that was a million miles away from what it was like on the ground. The minutiae of tragedy: How do I get home? How do I find out if my friends and family are all right? What's going to happen after all the hospitals are full? That's what mattered.

It came as news to me that America was under attack, which is what the TV told me when I got home. As far as I knew, it was our backyard, our mother-city, our own corner of the world that was under attack. And while I have no doubt that the events of 9/11 and their aftermath have had a profound effect on all Americans, and indeed all citizens of the world, I believe it is important to bear in mind, especially in a country as large as the US, that there is a big difference between the feeling that comes with knowing some distant corner of one's country, bound mainly by a common flag and currency, has been attacked, and the primal fear that comes with a head full of sirens, a nose full of soot, and a sky full of smoke. Let us never forget the small things, because, as 9/11 as well as my father's sudden death last year reminded me, we are, ourselves, small things.

West Plains, MO
I woke up to go to school and my family was glued to CNN and NBC because of the attacks, and I was asking, "What is going on?"
"What is it?" "What are these buildings?" and similar questions. I was almost a kindergartner and i had NO idea what was going on, so I went ballistic. Then I found out more about the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and Pennsylvanian attack area on Wikipedia. I then realized that all of those minutes passing that the United States and Americans' lives were changed forever.

Sault Ste Marie, Ontario Canada.

I remember this day being a typical day in grade 6, same old boring routine during the time of year where the school usually sells chocolate bars to raise a bit of money. The rest of the day is a blurr besides when our principal Mr.Cherra came into our class and told us that the world trade center's had been hit by two airplanes and just collapsed into dust and the Pentagon was also hit. I guess living in a Canadian society teacher's were allowed to talk about it and we did through-out the day, even though I thought the pentagon was the capital building back then, and imagining a typical 1930's foggy New York city being turned into chaos. Needless to say i was way off. When i walked in the door 5 hours later after school was out, I discovered my father glued to the TV taping news reports from CNN,ABC, and NBC saying "This is history, someone needs to preserve what's happened today." After dinner I was a bit surprised to discover that my mother was the person who called the school to tell them about the event's that had just taken place, and prior to that she called my father saying "We're under attack Len." Of course he just laughed it of not realizing what has happened. After learning all of this I couldn't really comprehend what happened, but i remember feeling really empty inside, or it seemed like more and more with each passing minute after the buildings collapsed, the world was changing.

Los Angeles

I awoke to my father telling me, calmly and coolly, that "we're under attack." Nothing more. He left the room, and I got up and went to brush my teeth. I looked out of the window, half-expecting to see Chinese ships on the beach with troops streaming out, content just to conquer my small corner of the country. Instead, the clouds were reflecting the sunrise in a very normal manner. It was morning. It was any morning.

I didn't understand what he had meant, and even I got in the car for him to me to the bus stop, I didn't ask. He didn't offer. He just turned on the radio and let NPR explain. I went to school, where only one of my teachers was willing to talk about it. While the rest were content to ignore history all around us, my math teacher told us that she was scared, and we shared the now absurd rumors that were going about that day. That there were more planes in the sky. That it wasn't over. S.11 was over, in fact, but it was perhaps a tipping point we'll think about for decades.

México DF

En ese tiempo yo era estudiante de cine en la Universidad de Columbia. El 11 de septiembre, un amigo vino a decirme que fuera con él al Bronx porque estaban bombardeando Manhattan. Yo no le creí, por supuesto, pero mi roommate Carl me dijo que era verdad, me llevó a la sala y me mostró en la televisión el Pentágono ardiendo. Están atacando a Estados Unidos, al país más poderoso del mundo. Nadie sabe quién. Yo pensé que era el fin del mundo, que era la Guerra Mundial que temía cuando era niño (¿qué hago yo aquí, en Nueva York, justo al momento de la 3a Guerra Mundial?, pensé). Le pregunté a Carl, pero quién nos está bombardeando ¿los chinos? No lo sabemos.
Mi amigo tenía afuera un taxi. Nos subimos a él y nos condujo hasta el puente que lleva al Bronx. Desde ahí se veía la imagen, una enorme estela de humo levantándose en el cielo de Manhattan. Pudimos salir de la isla porque mi amigo enseñó que vivía en el Bronx. Caminamos y caminamos. La gente comentaba en la calle, mis paisanos mexicanos seguían trabajando. Eran los únicos que seguían trabajando haciendo la masa para las pizzas. Todos los otros meseros y cocineros estaban viendo la tele. Decían: dicen que están atacando con nuestros propios aviones. Hay más de 300 aviones volando por encima de nosotros. Sentí terror. En cualquier momento podían comenzar a caer aviones sobre nosotros.
A mi amigo le dio un ataque nervioso de ambre. Nos sentamos a comer una pizza y a ver la televisión. Entonces nos enteramos que todo había sido planeado por un grupo terrorista.
Cuando llegamos a casa de mi amigo, revisé mi correo. Mi mamá me decía que sabía que yo estaba en un lugar lejos del WTC pero que me cuidara mucho (vivía yo en 125th con Riverside Drive, en un edificio de Columbia). También me escribieron amigos. Todos muy preocupados. Mi amigo que le daba por comer por nervios, volvió a desayunar. Entonces yo le dije que fuéramos al Ground Zero, que yo tenía una cámara digital y que como estudiantes de cine era nuestro deber documentar lo que estaba pasando. Le hice jurar que no grabaríamos nada que atentara contra la vida, esto es cadáveres ni nada truculento. Pasamos por la cámara a mi departamento como a las 12 del día y después de un largo caminar pudimos acercarnos al Ground Zero por el lado del Barrio Chino.
Varias veces nos dijeron que nos saliéramos. Yo tengo alguna experiencia como reportero porque he trabajado en eso desde que tenía 19 años. También estuve en los terremotos del 85 en México, con mi papá, ayudando a la gente bajo los escombros. Me uní a un grupo de obreros (tal vez me confundieron porque yo era mexicano y estaba lleno del polvo que seguía cayendo sobre todos nosotros). El caso es que con ellos entré al Ground Zero. Mi amigo no pudo entrar y regresó a su casa. Hice un pequeño documental/homenaje que al día siguiente transmitieron en NBC. Después hice otro para ABC. En ninguno de ellos muestro nada que pueda atentar contra la dignidad de los inocentes muertos.
Me gustaría publicar algunas de las imágenes que tengo de ese documental. Para mí, haber visto a esa gente ayudando, levantando escombros, fue muy importante. Me recordó cuando mi papá me llevó a que ayudara en el terremoto en mi propia ciudad, México.
Si el espacio aquí me lo permite, pondré más fotos. Por lo pronto, pongo esta imagen de un bombero que me parece que resume en su mirada lo que todos estábamos sintiendo ese día tan terrible y tan especial.
Cuando volví a mi casa en el metro, estaba todo lleno del polvo blanco que seguía cayendo del cielo. Estaba como ido, como si fuera un zombi. Al día siguiente, en la iglesia de Columbia, asistí a la misa para los estudiantes que murieron (soy católico). Ahí, comencé a llorar. Lloré muchísimo, lloré con mis compañeros, con todos. Parecía que no pudiera parar.

Fernando Zamora

File:Bombero de ojos azulesaa.jpg

Arlington, VA

I was living in Arlington when the Pentagon was hit. I got into my van to drive over to my mother's house. Upon leaving my condominium building and turning onto the main street, I noticed traffic was backed up from Washington, DC from the previous attacks. I lived minutes from Key Bridge. In front of me, stuck in traffic with the rests of us, was a black Mercedes SUV with tinted black windows. The license plate read "BIN LADEN" (Virginia tags). As I sat behind them, I debated with myself whether or not I should ram the vehicle and have the police determine if there was any link between the occupants of the SUV and any of the terrorists. Then, I remember thinking about the Japanese-Americans who were put into US concentration camps after Pearl Harbor was attacked. I struggled with trying to make a decision that, on one hand, might be a matter of national security, and on the other hand, might involve and potentially victimize a fellow American who had a vanity tag that was suddenly made politically incorrect that day. About an hour later, while on the FBI webpage, I reported this on their site. Later, I learned that Bin Laden was supposedly a common name and the likelihood of there being a connection with the occupants of the SUV was slim. But, I'll always wonder if I made the right choice not to intervene when I could have during that brief window when our two paths crossed and our world forever changed. John Thomas

Chicago IL

I was driving in to work from Evanston and heard the report on NPR that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. At that point, they didn't know if it was an accident. When I got to work at the University of Illinois at Chicago, I didn't listen to the radio or anything. My colleague came into my office, all wide-eyed, and asked if I heard the news. I said yes. She said she had had a nightmare the night before about fire and flames. At that point, I think she mentioned they thought it might be terrorists.

At that point, I realized that I worked less than half a mile from the Sears Tower. I walked down to another colleague's office and she was listening to the radio, I believe. We looked at each other with disbelief. Then the office manager and head of the department arrived. I went back to my office and decided I was going home. I went down to my office manager's office and she said that the department head said the university was open, we should all go back to work. I said, "I'm going home." She said, "Okay, but you'll have to take a personal day." I said, "Okay," and left.

When I drove home, the Kennedy expressway was pretty barren. As soon as I got to the first stop light off the expressway, I looked over at the car next to me and the driver, a middle-aged woman, and I looked at each other in disbelief. I thought about my family and did a mental checklist that no one was flying that day. I went home and called all members of my family. Everyone was okay. I could not watch the news. And I didn't until several years later.

I still wonder how many people in those buildings were told to go back to work.

Place (me): Greensboro, NC
Place (my dad): Goteburg, Sweden

I was in fifth grade, just another 10 year old in a small city going to a small school, as with any other school day. My mom and brother were at the same school, my brother in kindergarten, my mom teaching her 3rd grade class. My dad was on a work trip in Sweden, across a sea, across an ocean, across numerous countries, not even in the same hemisphere. Thousands of miles apart from each other. I thought little of it, since he was supposed to return that Thursday, two days from September 11. He didn't get back Thursday. And I didn't find out what had happened until 6 hours afterwards.

An announcement was made over the intercom saying that teachers were not allowed to turn on the television, causing my teacher to improvise a class, since we were going to watch a video. In AL class at about 11, the instructor gave us a sheet of paper, face down, and told us to put it in our folder without reading it. I read it, but only after school. At the end of the day, I went to the cafeteria, where we usually gathered before going to our afterschool activities. My mom was standing there, along with the afterschool coordinator. There were no afterschool activities that day. Everything was cancelled. But why? I still didn't know.

We had just gotten in the van when my mom broke down crying and told us about the attacks. It took me a few moments for the information to sink in, but when it did, I opened the door and almost threw up, joining my mom in tears. My brother, who was to young to really understand what was going on, just sat there. We rode home in silence, not wanting to talk or turn on the radio.

My dad called home that night and told us he was getting home, even though all US flights were cancelled. He was given permission to leave early from what he had been doing and took a flight down to Amsterdam, in the Netherlands. From there, he took another flight, this time to Mexico City. Once there, he stayed the night with some relatives, after an exhausting 12-hour trip. The following day, he took another flight on my uncle's airline to Monterrey, closer to the border, where he got on a bus and rode on it for many hours, until he arrived at Houston, Texas. He stayed the night there at a Motel 6, leaving on another bus, arriving at Charlotte, NC, many, many hours later.

By now, it was Thursday, and he should have been home. Our church held a special service for all those who had been murdered, and all those who had been separated from friends or family. Crying, my mom and others prayed the rosary. Thursday night dragged on. We went home, and my dad wasn't there.

Friday morning. We went to school, the three of us, with no sign of my dad getting home. Somberly, we made it through the day. And that night, after almost 80 hours, my dad arrived, having taken yet another bus to Greensboro and then a taxi home. Around the world in 80 hours. And this was one of the happiest tales.

He came home wearing the only clean shirt he had left, a shirt with the logo of some sports team or other across a background of the New York skyline. With the Twin Towers proudly standing out. I remebered the last (and first) time we had gone to NYC. I had wanted to go to the top of the Towers and see the view from there. We had climbed the Empire State Building, but the World Trade Center captivated me even more than the dusty old Empire State. My mom promised me that the next time we went to New York, we would climb the Towers, all the way to the top, and see the city from there. We still haven't returned, but someday, I will stand on the ground where they were and enjoy the beautiful surroundings from the ground, made all the more beautiful by the dark background, the ground which was burned on the bleak Tuesday, so long ago, yet not long enough ago. I will return.

Andrew C. Bowman now (almost) 15, from High Point, NC

Place: San Juan, Puerto Rico

In September 11,2001 I found myself in my bed with the flu missing another day of school. When I woke up I turned on the television and instantly I knew something was very wrong. The north tower was on fire, and they kept saying the word "accident" and replaying the video over and over again. I called my mom who was making breakfast. We sat there watching the television in awe. Soon after the second plane hit. It was clear now that it wasnt an accident and that NY was under attack. That day I spent the whole day in my room watching the news wondering about a guy they called Osama Bin Laden who was a suspect in the attacks. I couldnt at that moment grasp the fact that the world would no longer be the same.

The next day I had to go to my school. In every class we talked about the attacks, and I found out that it had been announced in all the classrooms that something horrible happened in NY and that the World Trade Center Towers had collapsed. I had the opportunity to see it unfold live but there is nothing more worse than feeling powerless and knowing that while I was standing there in the comfort of my bed people were fighting for their lives.

The mother of a classmate of mine had booked a seat on one of the flights that crashed into the WTC. She decided to change the flight date at the last hour. She was lucky. Today (Sept 11/05) we honor all those who died in the WTC. NEVER 4GET.

Ali
--65.218.144.187 23:35, 11 September 2005 (UTC)

Personal Experiences for the day September 11, 2001
●Place: Seattle, Washington
●Time: 7:45 am PST

To fully understand my September 11th experience I need to provide some background about what I was up to at this point in my life. The previous year I had decided to take a break from my legal career and return to school to obtain a degree in computer science, ostensibly so I could become a patent attorney. Accordingly, I returned to the life of a student and moved in with a couple of, for lack of a better term, wannabe hippies.

I had moved my TV into my bedroom. On the morning of September 11th I was awoken by a phone call to one of my fellow roommates. This roommate epitomized the absurdity of the people who would later blame America for September 11th. He worked for an international shipping company negotiating shipping rates by day, and plotted anti-WTO activities by night. Apparently the contradiction never occurred to him. So I hear him say, “No, I have not checked the TV.” When you hear someone say, “Check the TV," this is not good. So I turn on the TV and I see one of the towers burning and a replay of a plane hitting the other tower. It did not really sink in as to what was going on. Then, I see pictures of people jumping out of the towers to their deaths. At this point I realize what is going on and its magnitude. So there I sat in bed, 3000 miles away, watching people die.

The things I remember about that day apart from lying in bed are the following:

1) I remember an audiotape of a woman, in fact a very attractive woman, calling home in terror that she was going to die. It really saddened me that this woman was never going to see her family again. I almost started to cry.

2) The eerie quiet in the city of Seattle, no planes were flying, no people on the streets, just quiet. The only noise was that of an F-15 Eagle flying circles over the city.

3) All websites showing pictures of the towers burning on every webpage.

4) A US Navy Frigate in Elliot Bay (Seattle’s harbor) on patrol.

5) Calling friends in NYC to make sure they were okay, and having all the phone lines blocked due to everyone else in the world doing the same.

6) Realizing that this experience would change America for years to come . . .

A story from me in Brabant, the Netherlands

I don't live in America, but I was really shocked when I heard about it.
I just came home from school, I remember my dad standing outside talking to some neighbours. I asked if what they were all doing outside, he told me to go inside and watch tv with my mom. So I did, I could not believe what I saw on tv. I kept watching tv till 11 pm that night. I coudln't turn away. the next day at school people were talking about it but dudn't seemed that shocked as i was. Maybe that's because I was thinking about going to New York with my mom. Maybe i felt more connected then my classmates did.
A year after the attacks I went, I saw Ground Zero. I couldn't believe that there once were those big building. It seemed so small.

White Plains, New York-Lynne Sydelle Russo-Gordon

Its been over two years now, but I still remember every detail of that day. It was a beautiful warm sunny clear sky day that Tuesday. I had to go to work and then had class at Hunter College that night. Little did I know what would await me that morning. I worked in Lower Manhattan, less than two blocks East of the WTC. I got off the 4/5 Express at the Wall Street Station, which is right across from 115 Broadway and Cedar Street where I worked. I found that my building was being evacuated and no one could tell me why. I could not find anyone that I worked with. There was hundreds/thousands of people just walking or milling around. Noone knew exactly what had happened. Then someone said that the Twin Towers were on fire and that a plane had hit them. I suppose in retrospect that I should have turned around and tried to get back on the subway and go home. But a police officer shouted out to "go stand over there", a get out of the way kind of order. Many of us who were there just walked over to the Helmsley Plaza directly accross from Liberty Plaza and just stared dumfounded at the towers on fire. I found out later that even had I tried to get back on the subway that they had already been shut down. I had taken the last subway allowed to go to that area that morning. Then the first tower to fall exploded in a burst of white clouds of billowing smoke and slowly started to slip downwards. The same officer who had directed us to stand there now shouted, "run" and we did. But not fast or far enough. We all were caught in the debris fallout. Most of us made it out, some did not. The world went totally black and soundless, I never heard the buildings fall, I could not see, nor hear, nor feel, just smell and taste were left. I could not breathe or think, nothing, the world just dissappeared in an instant. I eventually made it out and home, but I have never been the same since. I lost a major part of me that day and I am still trying to find her. Peace/Lynne

**Lynn, Massachusetts USA. Wikipedia User: Saint-Paddy**
It was three years ago this September day that will live in my in my mind forever.

It was **9/11**. This is my story.

It started out at my old school, I was doing some BASIC during some freetime on the classroom Apple IIc. All the sudden the principal popped his head in and calmly said "Could you please go over to residential" So we got up and everyone was heading over to the building. One kid said "I heard the Palestinians did it." Although I was always interested in world events, I didn't have a clue what was going. Then we got in the building and the TV in the kitchen was and what I saw would burn in my mind forever. The Twin Towers were on fire. So we sat down and started watching the plane hit over and over. I was there when the first tower collapsed. I didn't see it though because I was asked to "Take 5"(pretty much a time-out. I have autism and behavior problems) cause I was acting up. But I heard gasps. Then we went back to class and did our work. One class was watching the events on the TV in their room but we didn't have so we couldn't see what was happening. I got home at 3 o' clock and the news was on. I went on the net and read up on that day's events.

I am a U.S. Navy Veteran, that served on active duty from 1984-1993, in various hot spots of the world, including the Persian Gulf, during the Oil Tanker War.

One month prior to the WTC Attacks, I was walking around, more or less homeless in Pittsburgh, PA near the Federal building. I smelled smoke, and heard screams, and Helicopters. These images were so powerful, I could not ignore them. It was like they were there, but they weren't. I was confused. I kept smelling smoke, but didn't see any fires, or helicopters. I was thinking this was some weird flashback, to my experiences as a 1-inch gun operator on board a U.S. Navy ship in the gulf, or the SFO Quake of 1989, my ship was in SFO that day.

I had had problems sleeping, mood swings, crying fits, for the last ten years, but did not want to go to the VA, and get help, only to become a burnt-out war vet, locked in a ward somewhere. I remember thinking, "Damn, this is some weird stuff, man, I got to just give in, and go to the VA, screw it." I sort of came out of it when I was almost killed by a Pittsburgh city bus, because I was wandering in the street. That was a real eye opener. For real, I now knew it was a flashback, or something, I was having. I had to get help.

I got to a VA shuttle. I went to the VA, PTSD clinic, in a fog. I had to pull out my driver's license to remember my name. I made an appointment for further treatment, and some medication, I got a job referral, from a VA outreach program. 3 weeks later, I was working for a legal firm, scanning documents for companies and firms in new york, mostly corporate briefs and emails for pending legal cases. People that we emailed to, back and forth, every day, worked in the WTC. Sept 11, I was at work, Some girl came into the room, saying World War III had started, and New York City had been hit. I remember thinking "That's bullshit, it's not a military target like D.C., the missile fields in Montana, or any other strategic bases." She kept crying and screaming. Everyone was running out the door. I figured "What's the rush? Pittsburgh is in the top 20 hit list, and if it's true, we got a half hour to get out of town, and we'll never make, it, the bridges will be jammed. We'll be vaporized." Our supervisor came in, and took charge, he told everyone to keep calm, to go home, and try not to panic. Some people continued to keep working, but he told them, "We're closed, go home, you'll get a full day's pay." I had a friend, a gal at the next desk from me, she asked me what I thought. I said "We won't know for quite some time." I walked with her to the bus stop. By now, the streets of downtown Pittsburgh were as predicted, a madhouse. Every bridge jammed. Cars trying to go out on the inbound lanes. It reminded me of The Loma-Prieta Quake of Oct 1989. Total panic, end-of-the-world stuff. I thought, "Wow, no shit, this is what I trained for my whole 9 years in the Navy, and here it is." And so, being there, I was not scared.

I decided to walk, because my bus ride home was not happening. All the while, looking up in the air, wondering if I would see the flash, through the clouds. Well, I kept walking, got hungry, figured I'll go to the Hotel across the street from the Federal building. People were RUNNING left and right. nearly hitting each other with cars, horns honking. Bedlam. Chaos. Sirens. I walked into the hotel, they had a T.V. on in the lounge. Lots of male business travllers in suits, shaking their heads. Women in business suits, crying into cellphones. I saw the WTC on the tube, burning. I though, "Oh, Plane Crash. Man, wow. Hard core. No survivors. Not a war, and the day off." No thought at all that the building would go. Then as we watched, the second plane came, LIVE, and went for the second tower. I KNEW, before it hit. Jihad. Holy war. US vs THEM. The World Was Going To Be Very Different, After Today.

I remembered things I had been told in counter-terrorist courses over, and over, and over. We were vulnerable. But everything I had been taught was small scale: car bombs, grenades in a trash bag full of coke bottles. A couple of bad guys with an AKM, or an Uzi SMG. Nothing like this. I felt that Pittsburgh was safe, but that New York was not going to be safe for any U.S. citizens with brown skin for many years. I thought, "Now maybe the civilians can understand, what military veterans have had to go through, in combat." We watched, as people were diving out of the towers, just all the horrible stuff we have all seen of those images. Women started SCREAMING in the lobby, totally freaked out.

I thought, "Holy war. Clinton should have taken out Iraq. My time there was wasted."

I looked around, and thought, "Now you all can wonder, 'Will I live through tommorow?' Like I used to. Welcome to hell, welcome to war. Welcome to The Real World of Geopolitics. Your Previous Clinton Administration has failed you. The people get the government that they deserve."

I then realized, my three weeks ago experience, was some kind of precognitive flash to these events. To this day, I believe that. I had similar experiences in the Gulf, that saved my life, many times, just a "Knowing" before really bad situations came up, like Vietname-era Jungle patrol point men army vets had told me about. The VA says it is just a symptom of my illness. When I talk about it, they want me to increase my medication dosage.

U.S. Navy Veteran, now diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, at 70% disability.

I am just from a small town in Northern Indiana named Dyer. You probably have never heard of it, although it lies about 30 miles southeast of Chicago. Well, I work in Chicago for a computer consulting firm, and my assignment for September 10-14, 2001 was in New York City, World Trade Center Tower 1, 57th floor.

I was not worried about being in the Tower that was bombed in 1993. As a matter of fact, before I left for my trip to New york, I recall saying to my father, "Don't worry Dad, lightning never strikes the same place twice." How terribly wrong I would be.

I arrived in New York on a flight from Chicago around 10 a.m. on Moday, September 10, 2001. I immediately went to my client's office in Tower 1 because I knew I had to accomplish much during this week. I left the offices around 8 p.m. that night knowing I had to get in early to get my work completed by the end of the week.

I arrived at approximately 7:45 a.m. the morning of September 11th. Picked up a cup of coffee and headed down to the server room on the 57th floor. I was just starting to load some software, when at 8:46 a.m. the plane hit.

It was a large "THUMP", followed by the longest, and most intense explosion. The floor which I was standing on raised up about a foot and dropped me back down. Then the unimaginable happened, the building began to sway violently from South....then North......then South again.

During this time, I kept saying outloud, "OH MY GOD!"..."OH MY GOD!" I thought the building was going over and I had absolutely nowhere to run.

Once the building stopped swaying, I knew I had to find a stairwell, not an elevator, a stairwell. Once I arrived at the stairwell, maybe 5 minutes after impact, a stream of people from the upper floors was filing by me.

I joined the procession and proceeded downwards. We were no more than 10-15 stories down when the second plane hit Tower 2. "Booooommmmmmm" muffled but strong through the stairwell. Women began to scream and cry. People stopped walking.....then some yelled, "GO", and we began our procession down the stairs.

It took approximately 30-40 minutes for me to get out of the building that day and come out on the street next to St.Pauls Chapel. When I turned around and looked, both Towers were burning and bellowing black smoke. I was shocked and relieved that I made it out alive....now I had to contact my family back in Indiana.

My wife, she was 5 months pregnant at the time, and my first son was about to celebrate his 2nd birthday. By the time I got through to her, almost two hours had past. Both Towers were down and she knew nothing.

I recall her answering the phone saying, "hello".....I said, "I am alive, I am o.k." then we both broke down in tears. It took me quite a while to compose myself.

Now, almost two years afterwards, I still have every moment, every image frozen in my mind. I will never forget the sacrifice of those innocent people that day, and please, please, Never Forget.

Don

**Colmar / France**

I came home from school at 4PM that day with a friend of mine, we settled in front of my computer, and fired up ICQ. As soon as I came online, a friend in Mexico contacts me: "Have you heard?? - What? - A plane has smashed into the World Trade Center in New York!"

At first, my friend and I thought it was a joke, some kind of lightning hoax. He told me to turn the TV on and see. As I tune into TF1 (a French national channel), the first thing I see is "EDITION SPECIALE: NEW YORK" in the top left hand corner of the screen, and people speaking about a video being aired live. At first, the camera is zoomed right in to what seems like a smoking hole, similar to what a terrorist bombing would blow in the side of a building.
Then, as the view zooms out, I realise that the hole was blown into the top quarter of one of the WTC towers.

At that point, I felt numbed more than anything else. I just sat and attempted to ingurgitate the waves of information pouring in.

I am not quite sure at which point in the overall strike I tuned in. I seem to remember that I saw the second tower being hit live, but the reports were running in all directions simultaneously, so the second hit was almost inserted in the flow of the first, as was the crash on the Pentagon.

For the rest of that evening, I stayed in contact with internet friends while watching the news, and one word slowly started to emerge more and more: "WAR". That was the most frightening prospect for me. I could almost picture the world entering a third global conflict, with all the consequences that would have (nuclear weapons among other concerns). That prospect dominated my feelings much more than the thousands killed during the attack -- The millions that may start dying the next day worried me most.

The next day, things were eerily quiet at school. I met up with my friends and we had a brief round of "have you heard the news?" before going into class. I was surprised how little they seemed affected on the outside, but I reckon that we had silently agreed that there was no use speculating and panicking - we were too far away to do anything at this stage, so we would wait and see.
The teachers had obviously heard, though they kept very quiet about it. They simply said things in the line of "I know what we all feel today, but the show must go on".

For a further week we had nothing but 24 hour coverage of the cataclysm on all national channels, which I believe dampened the impact on us: being constantly fed live coverage, playing the same five second footage over and over again, saying the same things every ten minutes made us less receptive to new information.

I must admit that I still cannot really visualise the present state of NY. When I thing of Manhattan, I still see the two towers rising high above the skyline for a few instants, before I remember that they are no longer there. I don't think I will completely believe that it happened until I actually see ground zero for myself.

**Frankfurt am Main, Germany / Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA**

I was on a two-week vacation in Germany, visiting family & friends, and attending a wedding. Two days after the wedding, my mother and I decided to go shopping before visiting some of her friends. That afternoon, we drove to her friend's place for coffee. We parked, and walked up to the door. The minute we stepped inside, our hosts asked us if we had heard "the terrible news", which we had not. A plane had flown into the World Trade Center, and was on the news stations.

We stepped to the television in the living room, and sure enough, the news station was replaying the first crash. As I watched, the second plane flew into the WTC. It was only then that the scope of what had happened hit me. I immediately thought of friends living in the area. And as news announcers spoke of terrorists, I found myself thinking "OK, we need to go to Israel and Palestine, and set up a 'Green Line' like in Cyprus, and tell those two communities to stop squabbling like toddlers." It struck me just how unproductive such unilateral action by the USA would be. The Pentagon was attacked next, and I was thinking the word "war".

Shock set in. My elderly grandmother, who I saw later that afternoon, had seen the news. Due to her senility, she did not comprehend what had happened. I felt more distant from her right then, not five feet from her, than I ever did when growing up thousands of miles away in the United States. My mother and I returned to the house where we were staying during our visit. One of the residents of our host's apartment house had been en route to Washington, DC that day, only to return due to the closure of all US airports.

I spent the next few days attempting to reschedule my flight home, which had originally been planned for the Friday following. I used the Internet at every opportunity to keep track of German- and English- language news sources. I contacted friends, my brother, and my partner, all via email. I channel-surfed, bouncing between CNN Atlanta, BBC, CNN Europe, and Germany's NTV. As I calmed down, and had my flight rebooked, I was able to note the differences in reporting from the various stations and languages. Observing the differences helped me to come to terms with what had happened.

I arrived back home, safe and sound, a week later. At work, I learned that my coworker's cousin had been on one of the flights to crash into the WTC. Another's sister had been scheduled to be on one of the two planes, but missed it due to filling in for a sick coworker on another flight. A friend had a former colleague who worked on the 94th floor of one of the towers.

I still grieve, still have not fully come to terms with the event, even six months later. I doubt that I ever will. Where does man's inhumanity to man end?

Bellevue, Washington. It was very early in the morning over here. I had just woken up when my telephone rung. I answered it and it was my step-sister, Erin, who is serving in the Airforce stationed in Sacramento, California. As she told me the horrific news, I couldn't believe it. She said she may have to go over to New York, and she wanted to tell her dad, but he wasn't there. When I hung up, I ran to the television.

I turned it on to see the horrific scene of the first plane crashing into one of the towers. Ignoring that I had school in an hour, I sat down and watched the news. At that time, they said anywhere from 5,000 to 50,000 people may have been in the towers. Of course, this number decreased as time went by. Then I saw the second plane hit live on TV, I couldn't believe it.

When I got to school, all the students were speaking about the terrorist attack. Teachers weren't allowed to talk about it. Feelings of unease and vulnerability were felt by everyone. It was really hard to comprehend. People here were scared that a terrorist attack could happen everywhere and everyone was in danger. Luckily, another major terrorist attack would not happen in the US.

My story may not be that exciting, but I'm glad it is how it is. I was on the opposite side of the United States from the attacks. I had not lost any friends or family. My deepest sympathies to all those who have such stories to tell, or all those who would have those stories if they were alive right now.

Breukelen, Holland, I was working at the time, having fun. My friend walked in and told me two plaines had crashed and WTC had collapsed. I thought she was joking, but she wasn't. I went home at 18.00 (our time) afraid to watch television, afraid to find out that it was all true. 3 hours later I still couldn't believe that it was true. I couldn't sleep that night, I kept thinking about my family, who live in the USA. The following morning I remembered a poem, I don't know who is the author but I know it can give some of you the comfort they need.

```
memories keep those we love
close to us forever
although words seem to say so little
I hope they help in some small way
to ease the sense of loss
that you're experiencing today
hold fast to your memories
to all of the cherished moments of the past
to the blessings and the laughter
the joys and the celebrations
the sorrow and the tears
they all add up to a treasure of fond yesterdays
that you shared and spent together
and they keep the one you loved
close to you in spirit and thought
the special moments
and memories in your life
will never change.
They will always be in your heart
today and forever more...

```

my thoughts are with you... kim de jong

September 11th was a day of surreal chaos. It's funny the ways in which these things hit you. I wasn't struck by the magnitude of what had happened until I walked out of the battlefield wasteland that used to be the financial district and saw a makeshift blood donation center in a park. A few ambulances and gurneys. People lined up. Other people holding up handwritten signs for AB-, O+ and such. Beyond that some construction workers gather supplies, presumably for the rescue efforts. There were tables set up with fresh water and snacks for people who needed them. I saw a table in front of a fire station with a phone sitting on it and sign saying, "Need to make a phone call?" Finally I come to the police barricade set up to hold back the throngs of gawkers trying to get a closer look. It was at this point that I started wandering the streets of NYC struck by the reality that 10,000 people probably just died, close enough for me to watch it happen. Wandering the streets covered in dust, catching snatches of conversation about the fucking Arabs, noticing people looking at my dust-covered clothes.

At one point earlier in the day, I broke down crying thinking about my friend Jas. Jas works in one of the builings directly adjacent the WTC, and the very real possiblity existed that he might be dead. Jas might be dead! The thought of that was more than I could bear. (I just heard word from him about and hour ago. Thank God.)

It was another banal day at work yesterday morning. I came in about 8:35am, five minutes late again. Had a voice mail waiting for me from my boss from last night. Something that needed doing first thing in the morning. She wouldn't be coming in until later. Check my email. More drama from an exgirlfriend I thought would be a good idea to get back in touch with. Settle down to get started working. Someone comes running down the hall blabbering something about the World Trade Center and an airplane. Typical over-reaction, it's probably nothing. Regardless, I wander over the window to see what's going on and see a gaping hole in the side of the building belching flames and smoke. All I can think about is the movie Brazil. Almost all of the debris fluttering around my office building is paper, files dislodged because of the explosion. When I see the second plane buzz by my office, bank around, and smash into the other tower in a huge explosion, I feel like I'm watching a movie. Everything was in slow-motion, huge fireball, very spectacular. Watching the events on TV, complete with comentary, then seeing the actual thing out the window somehow adds to the unreality of it all.

The other people in my office are milling about confused. Should we stay and get back to work? Should we go home? I think most of the people feel the same way about it as I do, most of them preferring to watch the events on TV rather than out the window. It feels so far away even though it's so close. Sarah is fighting to hold back tears fucking terrified and babbling about how we need to get the hell out of here. I put a hand on her shoulder and tell her to go home; it's ridiculous for us to stay here. She stands transfixed by the news reports, hugging herself, holding back tears.

I go back to my desk wondering what to do. It's announced that the office is closed and we should go home. I call my dad to tell him I'm okay. I figure the worst is over. The attack is done. I'm safe. I'll wait until the chaos of people trying to get home dies down before I try to get out of there, so I talk to my dad a bit, respond to some emails from people asking if I'm alright, try to get a hold of people who might be worried about me.

Eventually, I go downstairs and outside, start smoking a cigarette. There's still a lot of people milling about in front of the building. I try to call some friends on my cell phone. All circuits are busy at this time. I'm pondering the mob in front of me when everyone starts running. No one knows where to run to. Everyone is just following everyone else. I hear people talk about how the tower has collapsed as they scurry by, and I feel a twinge of real fear thinking that the skyscraper has actually fallen over. It's tall enough that it would have fallen very close where I was. I'm not sure what to do seeing the futility of just blindly running. When I see the cloud the dust billowing towards me, I hurriedly make my way back inside.

Back in my office on the 38th floor, it's dark as night outside. The dust obscurs everything. We are all asked to gather in the 37th floor conference center. I talk to someone covered in debris. He was caught in the dust cloud trying to walk home and forced to come back to the office. Other people are relating their stories of coming out of the commuter train station in the basement of the WTC when the first plane hit. Slow trudging up the escalator turned into frantic running as rescue worker yell at people to get the hell out of there. Others are trying to figure out how to get home to New Jersey or upstate New York as much of the city's public transit and roads are shut down.

We all sit in a conference room drinking coffee and munching pastries. CNN is continually blaring on the projector TV giving constant commentary on what's happening right outside. I start crying thinking about Jas. All I want is to be among friends, drinking a beer, ignoring the reality I'm caught in, but I'm stuck in this building until the smoke clears enough outside for me to be able to breathe. I'm reminded of Burning Man, and I wish that I had the mask and goggles that were a constant accessorie out in the desert. I just want to get the fuck out of there.

People are lined up to use the phone. All circuits are busy at this time. When It's my turn, I pull out my palm pilot and try to call everyone I know. Reaching people in Idaho, Oregon, California is no problem. Reaching people in NYC is nearly impossible, but I manage to get through to a few. Everyone is relieved to know I'm still alive.

Milling about the office waiting for the dust to settle. I manage to sneak onto a computer for a bit and reply to emails from people asking if I'm okay. Everyone is eerily calm. Reality hasn't really sunk in. People are more concerned with how they're going to get home.

By 2pm the air is fairly clear, even though smoke is still rising from where the WTC once stood. I'm one of the last people to leave the office. Outside, I smoke a cigarette then tie a t-shirt from my gym bag around my face. None of the buildings where I am are damaged, but everything is covered with dust and debris. Very few people are out on the street. The entire landscape is transformed.

Walking out of the disaster area police usher me away from the location of primary destruction, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a pile of rubble obscurred by smoke and fire. I'm in a slight state of shock. I'm just walking without any definite destination in mind.

After the blood donation center, after the police barricade, back in the "normal" world, I find myself a couple blocks from Deborah's apartment. It takes about five or six tries, but I finally get through to her on my cell and invite myself over. Once there, she's throwing things into a bag on her way out of Manhattan. She's spending the night at a friend's in Brooklyn. He freaked her out with thoughts of continued terrorist attacks, anthrax, nerve gas, and insisted that she spend the night with him, away from the epicenter of these phantom attacks. She's in a panic, the valium she took just muddying her mind and not calming her nerves. I calm her down and walk her to one of the few subway lines that are running. She promises to take me out for drinks tomorrow night.

I go to Edward's next, not wanting to take the long journey home. He has spent all day watching the news, popping valium, and drinking beer. I join him in the valium and beer and ask that the TV be turned off. I'm sick of thinking about what's happened today. We watch Golden Girls instead.

It's about 8pm and people are finally starting to be able to get through to me on my cell phone. My roommate calls and is glad to know I'm not hurt. She tells me I've got a ton of messages and my boss called to say there would be no work tomorrow. no shit A few other people call. Erin is on her way to Canada with her boyfriend and Tae is spending the night in a hotel in Manhattan. The city is still mostly closed off.

Edward lives on 10th street and the city has been closed south of 14th. We go out looking for some food and McDonald's is about the only thing open. There's line going out the door and down the block. We manage to find a bougie little bistro selling over-priced hamburgers. I enjoy my first meal since breakfast.

I spent last night on Edward's couch being too exhausted to want to try to get home. I got up late this morning to coffee, more news of what's happening, and more emails from people wondering how I'm doing. Part of me is happy about not having to go to work today. Edward's boyfriend had to go in. He works in mid-town. The reality of what happened still hasn't fully sunk in. Stuff like this happens every day in Beirut, right?

It's strange not seeing the twin towers rising above the NYC skyline anymore.

**From my point of view:**

I was feeling more upset than I had realized, and after spending the day picking through my feelings I went home to my uptown apartment feeling much better. Once there, I got a love letter from Katya, and that made me feel much better. So, I climbed up to the roof of the apartment to write sonnets and read Rilke, dressed appropriately.
After a while I called Katya, using my new ultra-swank headset / microphone, so I could leave my hands free and chat about nothing and everything for hours on end. And, of course, standing on the rooftops I felt that I was compelled to shout out "She Loves me!!!" at the top of my lungs -- when one is presented with the opportunity to shout it from the rooftops, one really must, I feel.

**From the Neighbors' point of view:**

The day after the WTC tragedy, where more people were killed in an instant than I can even imagine, they see a guy dressed all in black climb up to the top of the roof. He sits for a while, writing a long note, and then gets up. He starts pacing back and forth right on the edge of the roof. He is talking to himself with great animation, and at one point even starts screaming...

**From my point of view:**

So I look over the edge of the roof during the phone conversation, and notice a cop car... turns out all the cops are staring at me... I smile and wave to show them that I'm not tresspassing, and the cop shouts back "Just stay right there!" Then I turn around, and notice two of the nicest, least-threatening policemen I've met slowly walking towards me, at which point I realize what happened and become quite embarrassed. All told, in addition to the four cops on the street (to catch me in their arms?) there were eight policemen and women on the roof with me! I apologized profusely, and they were really good about the whole thing. One of them said that it "broke up the day" and gave them a chance to chat to each other... I guess it must've been a bit of a relief for them to get a call that wasn't a life or death situation at all. The head cop had to keep repeating himself to the dispatcher, "There is no EDP on 78th st. That's a negative -- no EDP". Whatever an EDP was, I'm glad I wasn't one. Wheeee!

(ed: acronymfinder.com reveals EDP to stand for Emotionally Disturbed Person)

*Note: I posted this with the author's full permission.*

* Name: Fritz Swanson
* Location: Ann Arbor, MI
* Experience:

I teach at the University of Michigan, and my days at work are Monday, Wednesday and Friday. My first class is at 9 am. So, my alarm is always set to 7:30am every morning so that I can get used to the fall routine of getting up early. It's a radio alarm which I have set to NPR and I wake up every morning to Morning Edition and listen to what is happening. It's a GE alarm clock, and I don't know about other clocks because this one is old an dthe only alarm clock I have ever had, and the reason I say all of this is to say that it only plays the radio for one hour. I guess that is so that it will turn off after you have left. GE figures you will wake up when the radio comes on, and before the hour is over you will be out the door. GE market research must have determined that most people set their alarm to, like, forty-five minutes before they have to leave or something.

Anyway, what this means is that on Tuesday the alarm turned the radio on at 7:30am. But I didn't have anything to teach, and my girlfriend doesn't need to be to work until eleven, so we just rested in bed listening to NPR. Now, right now, I don't know what was on. I don't remember anything about the program. I just remember being in bed with my girlfriend, waking up slowly to the sound of Todd Mundt and the other NPR people and just sort of relishing how relaxing the day seemed already. I had almost no grading to do and nothing scheduled at all. So I just laid in bed for an entire hour until the radio turned itself off. The radio figured I should be at work by now and I didn't feel like arguing.

So I got up. It was 8:30 am and I got. Normally when I get up I go to watch the weather channel, but because I had listened to so much radio, all of it so wonderfully calming, and because I had no where to be that day, I didn't turn on the TV. I just picked up the new issue of WIRED magazine and started to read an article about Programmable Matter. There was stuff about quantum wells and semiconductors and all kinds of sci-fi possibilities for matter that could change its actual elemental make up. Gold to lead. Alchemy. Transmutation.

And then my friend David Nelson called. Sara answered the phone and she said, quickly, "Dave says that the internet is down and that we need to turn on the TV."

So I did. And there was a shot on CNN of two smokestacks, one of them smoking and the other not. And I had no clue what I was looking at. It was a moment where the perspective was all shot and it was unclear how big anything was supposed to be. Out of the right side of the frame came an airplane, and it seemed like it must have been a model, because of its apparent size as related to the smokestacks. And then the plane hit the second smokestack, which, at that moment, became the WTC. I could see that it was a pair of buildings and the second one was detonating, and then I could hear what Aaron Brown was reporting.

And at first I laughed. And I thought, this is like some movie. And now, days later, I realize what I meant in my mind when I thought, This is like a movie.

What I meant, what I think every one means when they think, this is like a movie is this: They mean that this is NOTHING like a movie because it is happening.

And everything was sort of out of whack.

New York, New York.

On September 11th, I woke up late to get to the school bus. School buses in the city are an oddity, but I was going to school on the far end of Brooklyn, and so I took the bus every day. I missed the bus, and quickly got to a stop of a bus on a different route with a minute or two to spare, and was whisked away to school. We got there at about 7:45, starting off the worst day of my life. I had drama first, and I actually fell off the stage, backwards onto the front row of chairs. It was really painful, and looking back at it, it must've happened around the exact time of the first hit. Going to my next class at 9:15, a kid stopped me and said "hey, did you hear? A plane flew into the twin towers!" I thought he was joking, trying to scare me. I went into my classroom where my teacher was standing there, looking worried. When everyone settled down, which takes awhile in a class of 7th graders, she said "Ok, we have to go to the theatre for an emergency assembly". That shut us up quick. As I walked in, I saw one of my favorite teachers talking to another teacher. I went to talk to him, but heard him say "This is world war III. We're going to fucking nuke them". Those words truly still haunt me. I did not talk to him, or say hi. I went to a seat, and sat down to listen. The headmaster began to talk.

The majority of what he said is a blur, but he was very official about it. He laid out the facts, said things like "Our information is limited" and "We're working very hard on getting you all home". Someone raised their hand and asked about kids from Manhattan, accessible from Brooklyn only by tunnel, bridge, or subway, all of which were shut down. He said "You will not be able to get home". I burst out in tears, doing my very best to hide it from the other kids around me. 7th grade boys don't cry, not if they don't want to be made fun of. It was my 5th day at a new school, i had no friends, nowhere to sleep. I milled around my school, looking into various rooms to watch CNN being played on staticy TVs meant only for DvDs and VHSs. I called my parents from cell phones, but the reception was staticy and the connection went in and out. They sounded scared, which scared me further. I was sent home with a teacher. We ate all night, lots of things, and tried to watch happy, funny movies to make ourselves feel better. It didn't work, the fear and anger and sadness in our minds much stronger than Billy Madison. I spent the most of the night lying in an unfamiliar bed, crying and shaking.

The next morning, September 12th, was a beautiful one. Except for the large cloud of dust rising over my home. My mom came out on the subway to pick me up, and brought coffee and donuts for the family that had housed me. She came in through the front door, and i ran to her, crying and screaming. She held me and cried with me. Our subway ride back took more than twice as long as usual, riding back underneath the chaos that had been our city.

Harry Marker, Manhattan, New York.

The phone rang very early in our apartment in San Francisco. I wondered who it was. Jeremy went to answer it. When he came back he was very quiet. "Who was it?" I asked.

"Bryan," he said. "Terrorists have flown planes into the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon. The Pentagon's on fire, and the towers have collapsed."

"You're joking," I said, but he wasn't.

Durban. South Africa. A colleague rushed into my office to tell me that a plane had just crashed into one of the WTC towers. She was quite excited because she had just returned from New York two weeks previously and had stood atop the one on a lovely summer's day. I went to the net immediately but could not access CNN. I tried the BBC instead. No luck. Eventually a lonely pic of the tower with a hole in it presented itself on CNN.com. It looked almost like a model someone had dummied up with a shoebox. I phoned a friend who didn't know and minutes later he got back to me to say that he had heard on the radio that another plane had ploughed into the second tower. I didn't believe him and tried to access CNN.com a second time. This time it took even longer to get a hit. But when I saw it I believed...and rushed through to our company pub to take it all in on CNN. People just sat there gob-smacked...as though watching a surreal Schwarzennegger movie...and believing no doubt that they would wake up and it would all be over. An hour later the name Bin Laden was first mentioned...
Chris Rea.

New York, New York.

I live in a co-op on West 103rd St. and Riverside Dr. I woke up late on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 unexplainably tired. I left my building at 8:50 a.m. or so and took the Number 1 subway at the West 103rd Station. Everything seemed normal when I got off at the West 50th St. station; I really do not remember the details because there was nothing exceptional about the morning commute.

I went up to the 4th floor of my firm?s building on Ave. of the Americas. As I was entering through the glass doors to the office, I heard someone ask someone else, ?Did you hear about the plane that crashed into the World Trade Center??
One of them laughed; I thought they were kidding and as I headed to my office I said to myself, ?It is disgusting to make jokes like that, they are creating bad karma for themselves.

I turned on my computer and got ready to start my day, when my officemate, a lawyer on exchange from our London office, asked me, ?Did you hear about the accident??
It was then that I knew something was wrong and that this was no joke. He was watching the news report from the BBC on livestream video on his computer. And then I saw the images and could not believe my eyes. We watched it all happen on the Internet, from the second crash to the collapse of the first tower.

I immediately became concerned about my boyfriend, who works on Fulton St. I called his office repeatedly but there was no answer, not even the voice mail picked up.

There were no security announcements in my building, which is quite tall, so I decided that the best thing to do was to leave and head down to the East Village, where my boyfriend lives, hoping that he would have evacuated the area in time. I met a friend at the corner of Ave. of the Americas and West 52nd St. and we made our way down Park Ave.

There were thousands of people leaving their buildings. Everybody looked concerned. Tears formed in my eyes every time I thought of my boyfriend. I tried using my cell phone repeatedly but it was not working. It must have taken me an hour or so to make my way down to St. Mark?s Pl. I entered my boyfriend?s apartment and I found him there, watching the news on TV. I cannot describe the sense of relief I felt upon seeing him.

The following days were gut wrenching as the images played over and over on TV and as the pictures in the newspapers showed the extent of the destruction. There is one image I cannot erase from my mind: The New York Times ran a picture of the big gaping hole in one of the towers, and if you look carefully there seems to be a man standing by a window. Even if it was an illusion, this is what I saw in that picture and the thought of him dying, whoever he was, still makes me want to cry.

It has been more than one week now after the attack and we try to return to normal. But it will never be normal again. Everywhere I walk I see flyers of people who disappeared in the rubble. I feel like I am living in a different world now.

S., Maine

This is my experience of that day, at least some of it.

I had just biked over to the gym here and when I walked in I heard people saying that "they" had bombed the WTC and then the Pentagon. What?? That's crazy! We all crowded into the maintenance closet where we watched a b&w tv. I had an overwhenlming compulsion to call my husband at work - the company should go on high security (as if my thoughts on that were necessary), and my Mom. We had just been in NYC that weekend to see the Wayne Thiebaud exhibit. We had not been there for twenty years or so. As we were leaving on the train I pointed out the WTC to my husband and mentioned the 1993 attack.

As I wandered about the gym, I remembered that my friend's husband flies for American out of Boston. I tried calling her. No answer. Got home and tried again. And, again. The video of the building collapsing made we want to throw up, or faint. I told my husband I needed him to come home. I called my friend and she answered the phone cheerily. They were in the yard working and had no idea what had happened, no idea why their crazy friend was hysterical on the phone - hysterical with relief. It's not any better that it was not my friend's husband, it is still too awful for thought much less for words. My relief was that my friend would not have the pain of her family coming apart.

I got a shower, my husband came home. I stopped being hysterical, although I was still crying and sick at heart. I keep watching the tv trying to actually believe this has happened. Removing those buildings from the skyline of NYC that lives in my head is like removing some vital part of language from my vocabulary.

My day had pretty much started out the same on September11, 2001. I got up and took my shower and left for school. I went to English first period and turned in my research paper on the British poet Robert Browning and had class as usual. As I came out of first period(about 9:30am central time) one of my friends came up to me and had this blank expression on her face and all she could say was "Can you believe this!!" I had no idea what so was talking about so she finally told me that two planes had just crashed into the World Trade Centers and one had already callapsed and that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon. To tell the truth I never really worried about what was in New York because I live way down here in Alexander City, Alabama. So I didn't really know how big the trade centers were and how devastating this terrorists attack was; on the other hand I did know what the Pentagon was so that got me worried. See my father works in Washington D.C. and he often works in government buildings. Luckily this day he was working at one of the CIA buildings.As we came into Second Period the whole class was in front of the television watching the other trade tower fall. I was speechless as I watched these people run for their lives. It was worse than any movie because this was real people and it was here in America "the beautiful",my home. We spent the whole class period just watching these videos of the planes crashing into the towers and people jumping out of windows. No one knew exactly what to say or even think about the whole situation. I know a lot of us were thinking that all we want to do is graduate high school before all our friends end up being drafted, this is our senior year, what we have been waiting for. I get out of school at 11:30AM and as I came out my boyfriend was waiting for me out by my car(he's 19 and was supposed to be at the community college).He was feeling the exact same way I was feeling, confused and a little scared of what else was going to happen. We went on to my house and just hung out together with my family. Then when 7:30PM came we all sat down together as a family and watched President address our nation. Bush did excellent and it touched my heart especially when he quoted scripture from the bible. I was glued to the tv for a couple more days and I still can sit there and listen to it for hours but sometimes you just have to get away.

from an alabamian

I am a lawyer in Massachusetts. On Tuesday September 11, 2001 at about 8:30AM I arrived at a local courthouse to deal with several pending cases. A court officer came up to me in the hallway and told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center; I assumed it was a small plane that had perhaps gone off-course. I retreated to the court officer's lobby where I saw on TV the damage wrought by two commercial jets. At that point it was apparent that the attacks were intentional; we also then learned that both planes had been hijacked from Boston. I stared in disbelief at the burning buildings. Shortly after this, we learned of the Pentagon and Pennsylvania hijackings. We watched as the buildings collapsed, not believing what we were seeing. All courts in Massachusetts were then ordered closed by the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court. I went home and contacted family members in New York and Florida.

In May of 2001 I took my wife to the top of Tower 2 for a drink at club called "The Greatest Bar On Earth". We each had a glass of Veuve Cliquot champagne and watched the sunset. The view was astounding. If you told me then what would happen to those buildings and those people I would have laughed in your face.

Perth, Western Australia

I was just drifting off to sleep at about 9PM when I heard my mother, who had been listening to the radio, come storming down the hallway and flicking through the channels on the TV. Curious, I dragged myself out of bed, and came into the lounge room. Mum had found CNN being relayed through the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation), who had suspended regular programming.

I could see an image of the World Trade Center with smoke billowing from both of the twin towers. Soon, they flicked to images of the Pentagon on fire. My whole family sat on the couch, glued to our TV screens. The images seemed impossible, less real than the movie Independence Day. We were terribly shocked, even more so because our Prime Minister, John Howard, the leader of Australia, was in Washington at the time, and none of our TV news networks knew if he was alright. It turned out he was fine, but he was close enough to see the plane slam into the Pentagon from a window. We sat, watching the unfolding tragedy, for hours.

The world will never be the same again.

God Bless Australia, and God Bless America.

Chicago, IL

I had a job interview--I had been part of the dot-bomb world, terrified of not getting a job--and I was driving on I-290 on my way to Westmont when Noah Adams broke into a fluff piece on NPR about young teachers in Chicago. A plane had hit the World Trade Center, he said, but it wasn't clear why. Maybe the navigation system broke? Maybe it was a commuter plane? Maybe a private one? maybe... maybe...

I arrived at the company building for my interview, got out. I was early, so I wandered into the cafe. A second plane had hit. It wasn't an accident, it was on purpose. I sat there for 20 minutes, just watching, in shock. I took out my cell phone, to try to reach my brother, but I couldn't get through. So without anything better to do, and because operating on autopilot was easier than figuring out how I felt, I went into my interview.

I didn't get the job.

By the time I came out, the towers had collapsed, the pentagon had been hit, and a plane had crashed in Pennsylvania.

It's odd how a futile hour and a half, with people I'll never see again, changed the world.

That night, I was sitting at home, after having been glued to the TV all day, when I saw it for the first time. The camera panned across people hanging out the windows above the fires, before the buildings collapsed. Tons of them. You could pick out the colors of the suits they wore. They were at the windows, just standing there, wind whipping the skirts and the hair and the ties. And then one fell. And another. And another. Like popcorn beginning to pop. Now, a month later, those are the images that won't leave my head.

New York, NY

I was at the World Trade Centre (I work at the World Financial Centre building, across the highway from the WTC) on Tuesday morning.

I walked out of the WTC just minutes (probably 8 minutes) after the plane slammed into the first tower.

As I got out of the PATH train (which runs through the bowels of the WTC) I could smell something burning. There is a restaurant at the same level and I thought they must have had a minor accident. Sure enough, the fire alarm lights were blinking. People usually ignore these lights as these are a frequent occurrence. Of course, people at the restaurant were ignoring the alarm.

I took the escalator that takes me to street level. As we approached that level, I suddenly saw people on the escalator above me running away; there was a great deal of commotion and shouting. I thought it must be a hostage situation and dashed toward the exit I usually take. I saw a man being supported by a policeman. It looked like he was bleeding. I assumed he had been shot and took off like a mad man. I slowed down when I realised that all the shops around me were closed -- and the scene outside the glass door some 50 feet before me was a little murky. There appeared to be some smoke outside. I wasn't sure what was happening.

I walked to the exit and stepped out. It looked like a scene from a war movie. The street looked like a war zone. I immediately drew parallels to Beirut. Then another thing struck me -- the smell of burning had not gone away at all! How could a restaurant fire deep down smell all the way up here? I wondered. Then I saw the debris all around me -- some of it was still burning. I chanced to look up -- then the horror of it dawned on me. The WTC was burning! I whipped out my cell phone and tried to call my wife. No signal. Obviously everyone around me was using up the cell sites -- not enough network bandwidth to get my call through.

Usually I turn right and go to my office. But the way towards my office appeared to be impassable. There was just too much debris there. So I crossed the road in front of me and then turned right to my office. Still no go. There was a police officer blocking my path. I stopped. But several others pushed through. He told me the only way was to go one block and then try to turn right. I did just that. That road had debris. I was pushing along when I saw -- right in front of me -- a huge hunk of what appeared to be freshly hewn beef sitting on the windshield of a car. I was shocked! What kind of person would store freshly cut meat -- even temporarily when taking it out of a truck and putting it into cold storage -- on the hood of a car? Just then a couple of people put a sheet of white cloth on that. Then I heard some women screaming and pointing to something below. I looked down, and a scant six inches from my foot I saw a foot.

I managed to cross the highway that separates my office from the WTC. I struggled up a small embankment and watched as people poured out of my office building. I still did not know that a plane had crashed into the WTC. Then I heard someone say so. I just did not believe him. I thought to myself, this is a small fire -- these people should be able to contain it quite easily. Why would my building be in danger? I walked up to the security staff at my building and asked them if they were planning to evacuate the building. They said 'Not yet, but it could be any moment.' Decision time. Should I go up or go home? I decided foolhardily to go up. Since I work on the sixth floor -- any emergency exit would not be quite as painful as, say, an exit from the 38th floor (which is where I used to work). I pressed on up, took the first elevator.

Just as I got off the elevator, I saw a couple of people rushing out of an adjacent office, saying they had just seen a second plane hitting 'our' building. Oh no! All I wanted to do at that time was call my wife and tell her I was coming home. I opened my office -- which I share with three others -- dialed home, only to find that I could not get through. I dialled again. In the meantime I heard the people on my floor rushing to the emergency door. I managed to get through to my wife and told her the WTC was burning, that there had been another plane crash and that I was trying to return home. Then I left.

I was the last person on my floor to leave. As I wended my way down the stairs I was struck by how calm people were. This New York resilience is something I saw time and time again today. We left the building and I got out -- now I realised the second plane had slammed into the other WTC tower. Someone standing by said to me he had seen the plane coming from near the Statue of Liberty and slamming into the tower.

I kept turning back to see what was happening. I saw at least three or four people jumping from what must have been the 40th or 50th floor of the WTC tower. They were flying out only to slam into concrete -- which I fortunately did not witness. They were obviously jumping from the fire and willing to take a chance with the jump. I was horrified. I looked at the pavement below me and saw many, many empty high heeled shoes. Did they come from the explosion? Not possible because they were all in pairs and undamaged. Then I got it -- this must have been people watching while the second plane crashed into the building.

By now I was numb. It was almost 9:15 am. Or 9.20 am. I wasn't looking at my watch. I saw a few people with digital cameras taking videos and pictures of the building going up in flames. I kept walking until I reached a subway station I knew existed. I got into the subway numb with shock and escaped from the area.

I got off the subway at 14th street and 4th Avenue and trudged all the way up to 33rd street and 8th Avenue. A mighty long walk, considering that each street takes about a minute at a brisk pace and each Avenue takes about 4 minutes. I reached Penn station at around 10 am. I got into what would be the exit train for me, the 10:43 am going home. Unfortunately they evacuated Penn station so I had to wait outside for about four hours before ultimately reaching home by the same train around 3:30 pm.

I am glad to be alive. I hope and pray the thousands of souls that died there today go to heaven in peace. It was never their fault. It never is.

* **Name:** Mike A.(Filipino)
* **Age:** 13
* **Date:** Nov. 17, 2001
* **Location:** Quezon City, Philippines
* **Reaction:** WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENIN!!!???

It was Tuesday Evening here in our country, and I had just finished my hw. in school.
Time for me to relax so I went to my chair, got the remote and started clicking on the channels. Suddenly, I saw on CNN,that both Twin towers are on fire!!! The first thing that came into my mind was just an accident from above maybe an electrical current got short and caused fire or the stove was left and began burning all the things nearby or a computer exploded or whatever minor accidents. But when I thought about it, I realized if it's that minor, why would it be featured in CNN , an international news channel, or why is the fire so big? And the reporter just said that two hijacked planes crashed on the towers. I called my mom, my brothers and sisters to check out the news. My mother even questioned me if that's a movie or a spoof! We could NOT believe what just had happened and we just sat together watching on the news with horror in our eyes. 20 minutes later, our uncle called who was a steward for the Philippine Airlines who just got back from a flight in US, and told us that our father WORKED there! ( on the 21st floor in the north tower ). I know it may sound strange knowing only where our father works but to straighten things up, we just knew it because he was got a work job in NY since moving from LA, he lives in NJ together with my other relatives and goes to NY to work. Anyway, to get back on our unforgettable to what seems to be a horror movie, we all knew that our father migrated to the US and worked there, and 1 of a hundred filipinos working in the towers itself! Our eyes were full of confusion, grief horror, hearts sank deeply on the ground trying to build a grave out of our blood, and asked ourselves, "of all the things that could be done, WHY THIS?" We all waited for the telephone to ring, hoping our father will call uninjured. And an hour later, one of the towers collapsed! I can't believe it! And I was really expecting a great loss of life there!!! Even though I am about 12,343,213 miles from there, I can feel the horror!
And later BOTH TOWERS COLLAPSED!!! Our father still in our minds and hoping he's still alive.
It was 11.00pm here in the Philippines when both towers collapsed. I can't believe it, it was really true, it says on the tv LIVE! I didn't want to sleep that terrible night, but my body cant handle it and I prayed and I prayed wishing my father'll still be alive and I suddenly slept on the chair. I woke up at 5:00 am in the morning our time to prepare for school, and at last my mother talked to my father and he said he was safe. All those anxieties are finally gone but I thought about the people still waiting for their loved ones . I felt very sorry for them and the Sept. 11, incident will forever be sealed in my mind.

Papa, if you are reading this right now, I just want to tell you that I love you and I dont want to lose you!...

My mom called me and woke me up about 10 AM EST. I didn't have to be at work early, so I was sleeping in. I answered the phone and she said to turn on the TV, they attacked New York. I put on CNN and watched the planes hit the buildings over and over again.

I drove to work, but we didn't work. We sat on the couch in my boss' living room, switching back and forth between Headline News and CNN and all the other channels. It didn't matter which one, they were all showing the same thing over and over. From different angles. From a tourist's camcorder, with a guy saying, "HOLY SHIT!" as the first plane hits. The people running from the dust cloud as the building collapses. Over and over.

We went out to lunch, everyone numbed, talked about driving to New York to help. No idea how, we just wanted to do something. I bought a book from the shop next door to the restaurant, and boss' wife was shocked that I could think of shopping right now. The extremely neat man with the affected lisp who ran the shop asked me what her problem was, and I told him that she's upset about the whole planes flying into buildings thing and doesn't see how I can think of shopping. He shrugged and said something to the effect of, "well, life goes on."

We drove by the blood donation place, but the line of cars was so long we couldn't even get close. We got some beer, all sat around and drank in front of the TV.

My boss and I would occasionally make sardonic remarks about whatever news footage or talking head was on TV, much to his wife's chagrin. There was footage of an unexplained fire in Kabul. A military spokesman was asked about the fire; he responded, "We have a number of contingency plans ready for any eventuality." Boss commented, "One of those contingency plans being, 'bomb Afghanistan'." I laughed. His wife was horrified that we could find levity in anything.

I went to bed that night horrified that there could be people so evil in the world who could do such a thing. Horrified at the ignorant rednecks who were going around blowing the heads off of Middle Eastern gas station owners in calm retribution. Every time I think I've seen the worst of humanity, I find out that there's more.

*Freiburg, Germany* (tillwe)

In the afternoon (local time, which is morning in the US), I was learning for my exam sitting in front of my computer in my room. In a break, I switched on some online news and was absolutly shocked by seeing the news on WTC. The next hours I tried to find every information I could about the incident, talking to friends and family. A friend of mine was visiting the USA then, and only three days latter I found out she was well. As it became known that the Pentagon was hit, too, my thought was that the US, wounded as they felt, would react immidiatly military (which didn't happen, what I didn't know then). The next morning I woke with the thought the world may be in WW III, in a big clash-of-civilization-like scenario.

Washington, DC

At the time, I was commuting to work from Baltimore to Washington every morning on the train. That particular morning, I woke up feeling very disoriented and generally very weird. I ended up missing my train. Once I boarded the next train an hour later, I quickly fell asleep. I woke up and overheard a woman talking about a plane flying into a building. Still half-asleep, I figured they were talking about a new Schwarzenegger movie, and went back to sleep. Next time I woke up, people were crying and trying to get cell phone calls out. This time I stayed awake. One woman on my train was an employee of the WTC in Baltimore, and was trying to reach her collegues in New York. One person who got through on his phone announced that DC was under attack, and that the Pentagon was bombed and the National Mall was on fire. We were stunned for a minute, and wondered if Union Station was be the best place to be if the city was being attacked.

We finally got there, and were quickly ushered out of the station. Being miles away from my office, I trepidatiously boarded the Metro at the next station over. I met up with my boss outside of my office, and found out what really happened. Hoards of people were in the street - every building in the city had been evacuated. We walked to the bus station. Along the way, entire streets had been blocked off because of bomb threats. My boss drove me home, because none of the trains were running.

I was really struck by how brave people were, and how people were supporting each other throughout the day, despite how devestated everyone felt inside. I don't remember much of the next week or so, except that I cried and prayed a lot.

El Segundo, CA

I?m a licensed private pilot, and my recollection of September 11th 2001 and the days immediately following turns largely on how those events affected aviation.

The grounding of all aircraft flying in the United States airspace was unprecedented. But that?s what the FAA ordered on that morning, when it became obvious that the crashes of commercial airliners into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and into the ground in Pennsylvania, were not accidental.

My husband and I live near Los Angeles International Airport (LAX), and there?s a constant stream of air traffic arriving at and departing from LAX. In daylight hours you can see them arriving, spaced in some cases only moments apart, a carefully-choreographed dance that brings the aircraft down onto LAX?s four runways. At night you can see the chain of airplanes like a chain of glittering diamonds shining in the night as the arriving traffic is formed up into a line in trail for landing at the airport.

Well, as my husband and I drove down Hawthorne Boulevard to work on the morning of September 11th, there were no aircraft in the sky at all. Nothing was arriving at LAX. Nothing was departing. The sky was empty and silent, eerily so.

The grounding continued for several days, the FAA re-opening the airspace only gradually, first to commercial flights. One of my recollections of that time was watching a 747 flying a tight pattern to land at LAX the second or third day after the 11th. This was the first aircraft I?d seen land since the 11th.

The Fixed-Base Operator (FBO) (the business entity that rented me the aircraft I flew and provided other services to me and to other private pilots) that I flew with was in a world of hurt because of the flight restrictions. Because of fears, all unfounded, that terrorists might try to use small private aircraft to carry out further attacks against the United States, the FAA was loath to allow private non-commercial aircraft to resume flying within crowded metropolitan areas. This meant that those who depended for their livelihood on aircraft rentals, sales of fuel, and other services to the private pilot community were badly hurt by the flight ban. Aviation businesses are mostly a labor of love; the way you make a small fortune in aviation is by starting with a large one. Every FBO in the metropolitan LA area that was covered by the flight ban was hurting.

That?s what I remember most about the events of 9/11 that directly impacted me: the way the people who depended on aviation to make a living were hurt by the flight ban. To me, many of these people represent another sort of casualty of the attacks: the businesses and people who were hurt financially (in some cases hurt so badly they never recovered) by actions growing out of the aftermath of 9/11.

Silent skies and the silent, unseen despair of the people who lived by aviation were the aftermath of the attacks.

I'm a 14 year old from small town Houghton, Michigan. And although this terrible event happened 2 years ago, I remember it like it was just yesterday.
I found out what had happened while I was in my Aspects of Sports class. Normally that class is terribly boring, and Mr. Powell said he was going to turn on the TV, so I was happy to hear that.

I watched as they showed the footage of the first plane hitting the tall structure. Then out of nowhere the second plane hit. Just then I felt a horrible shock run through my body...

After we all saw what had happened, Mr. Powell turned off the TV. We had a short discussion about the sickening events that had just taken place. For the rest of the school day we kept asking teachers to turn on the TV's to see what happened, but they weren't allowed. They weren't even allowed to talk about it.

When school was over I got home fast as I could and turned on the TV. Then I heard the shocking news.. both buildings had collapsed. And another plane had hit the Pentagon.

As soon as I heard that the buildings had fallen I remembered that I had friends in New York.

I knew 5 people who worked in building 1. Only 2 are alive now to tell their story.

R.I.P. guys.

I was 32, my mother said me I had to go to the dinning room for eat a spanish omelet (two egs with potatoes, all mixed) and lettuce. My father was watching the TV, the afternoon news. Then I saw how the second plane impact the tower, I look to my father (rare, because I hate him) and I said: "They are crazy", while I smile slightly. I finished my omelette and I went to my room for watching all the TV channels. Most of them was showing the live images. Then the towers fell...it was serious. Today I still think it was a TV joke because
the live images and people reactions were like a Spielberg film. The new world order must prevent all those TV shows, most people is not prepared for judge heavy metal music.

Sincerely,

Antonio (Spain)

Bucharest, Romania

I came here as a Peace Corps Volunteer in 1998. My mother and I had a silly fight in July, 2001, and she stopped speaking to me... one Tuesday in September I gathered my courage and called home, around 4:15 p.m. Romania time. My father said, "Are you calling because of what's happened?"

"No, I'm calling to talk to Mom. Why, what happened?"

"Planes just hit the Twin Towers. We're under attack."

This seemed so unreal that I said "Oh" and asked to talk to Mom (who refused to take the phone, btw). After that I went downstairs to a neighbor's who had a TV, and it was only then that I realized how serious things were.

I wear a memorial bracelet with the names of two Romanians who died on 9-11, Alexandru Stan and his wife Corina. They won the visa lottery, emigrated to the States, and got jobs at the WTC.

Light at the end of the tunnel
Local man begins to find peace after nightmare of 9/11
By Kathy Manetti

For many Americans, every day since September 11, 2001 has been a struggle just to simply get out of bed and trudge along in the normal rhythm of life. What happened that day marred our vision of a safe and sane world, and life as we knew it, would never be the same.
Jeff Seide of Weston has certainly had his share of nightmares, since that fateful morning, when he sat at his desk atop the 84th floor of WTC 2. ?I just knew,? stated Mr. Seide, recalling his instinctive reaction to leave the building after the first plane had struck tower 1. ?Having been a 1993 Trade Center veteran, I just knew this was very serious and so I just yelled for everybody to get out.?
An employee of Tradesoft / Euro Brokers, a Bond Brokerage company that lost 61 employees that day, Jeff rallied many of his coworkers to leave the building.
?I was eye level with the explosion in Tower 1, the wall was engulfed with flames. Black smoke and debris billowed out of the building. I knew I had to get out of there. There were others that weren?t so sure.?
As Mr. Seide and a large number of fellow workers streamed down the stairwell, fear seemed to grip their every move. More and more people seemed to have received that same instinctive message and poured into the stairwell for escape.
?When I was on or about the 35th floor, there was a second blast,? said Mr. Seide. ?This time, the building shook, and the lights dimmed for awhile.? Little did he know that at this time, his entire office building (floors 79-84) had been seared through by the second plane.
<The nightmare worsens>
What ensued for the next few hours was a daze of smoke, primal fear, and a close up view of death. After being directed uptown for a few minutes, he decided to retrace his steps and head back to retrieve his car that was in parked in the Battery Garage. As he attempted to escape, he soon noticed that all the roads were closed and traffic was at a standstill.
?As I was standing outside of my car gazing at the burning towers I suddenly heard a bang. It was the tower collapsing. The sound was shocking. Like a deck of cards, I watched floor after floor as if in slow-motion falling to the ground.?
People were running and screaming as an enormous black cloud enveloped the entire financial district.
?I recall thinking that I was testing fate for the second time that day. Like the others, I darted into the park, briefly ducking behind a tree and hoping that I wouldn?t be a victim of flying glass, much like the body I stepped over just minutes before.?
As the cloud of black smoke encircled him, he found himself running toward the water, among a sea of hysterical people struggling for their lives. Finding a resting spot for his trembling legs, he waited for what seemed like hours until he saw a spot of sun in the black sky and he knew that the wind was drafting the cloud out to sea. This encouraged him onward, back into his car. Hours later, he was in the arms of his loving family.
Unsure of the number of lives that he helped to save that day, Mr. Seide is certain of only one thing? it was his faith that has helped him to deal with the horrific pain that came from experiencing such devastation.
?It?s all about faith. I don?t know how anyone can get through something like this without God.?
He encourages people to stop and listen. ?This was our wake-up call. Regardless of your religion/denomination, it?s essential to benefit from this disaster and renew ones devotion.?
< A humble hero>
Heralded a hero by those whose lives he saved through his quick thinking and proactive resolve to leave Mr. Seide was most touched by his wife Cindi and their four children, whose view of that day was very clear. Chad, the oldest, sent him a special message that he read at the service.
?Dad, last year I almost lost you. Before the 11th I never even thought of something like that happening. Within moments my life changed. You are a hero. You have shown more strength that I can ever have, and I hope that one day I can be like you. You have a family that loves and cares about you more than you can imagine. Today is not only a day of reflection, but a day to remember how fragile life is. I am grateful to have a family that cares. My love for you all surpasses words. I am 3000 miles away, but you are always on my mind?
<The memory lives on> Love, Jeff

I'm Alex Wright, I'm now 17, and like in Liss, a village in en:Hampshire near the town of Petersfield and a half-hour train ride from the city of en:Portsmouth, in South en:England. On Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I was a 14-year-old schoolboy. I'd come home from my secondary school at about 3pm and bought a book for my English class (en:Lord of the Flies) before going to my mum's shop. I remember I first heard about it when a friend of mine came into my mum's shop in Petersfield babbling something about a warzone in New York. I didn't know what he was on about and laughed because I thought he was joking. That made me rembember later that loads of people had been watchoing TV when I walked past a pub. I was very annoyed I didn't have a radio with me, I went into my mum's office and looked at the low graphics BBC News site excrutiatingly slow Web connection. Then I remembered a local shop had a TV showing Sky News. When in there I saw a man walk in, see the TV, and freeze. The really freaking think is my dad has visited New York and the World Trade Center before so if thinks had gone differently.
I've now realised 9/11 was probably a sort-of turning point in my life. Obviously not in the profound, devastating way that it would be for victims. Although I had read a bit on the Internet about the African embassy bombings trials and was opposed to the death penalty, but I'm sure I don't remember being as interested in politics as I am now, or as passionate about things like the Palestinian and Chechen causes (i don't think I knew much about them at all then), or so against war crimes and terrorism against civilians whoever has done it. I had a shock a few months ago when I was looking at the 9/11 In Memorandam Tributes to victims list. The youngest victim of 9/11 was a two and a half year old baby girl, Christine Hanson of Groton, Massachussetts, on her way to Disneyland with her parents on one of the planes. How could any murder a two-year-old baby girl?
Wikipedia ID Kingal86 12:02, 16 Jul 2004 (UTC)

**Julius**, from Amsterdam (not the New Amsterdam, the old original, in The Netherlands)

In our time the events took place around tea-time, people were wide-awake and we all fully experienced it right away. I had the day off from work, I remember it was a strange day, even before the news hit me. Somehow, looking back at it, I must have felt some type of eery tension I couldn't really put my fingers on until it all started. It was a sunny day here as well. I was at my dentist about an hour before the first plane hit the WTC, for annual inspection, but he needed to do a lot of clean-up so it wasn't a pleasant experience. Away from the dentist I stepped in our city-subway (metro) and took a ride to the Amstelstation, I remember looking out of the window during the ride, thinking how strangely wild the weather appeared to be getting all of a sudden. I was determined to buy a set of speakers at RAF HiFi in the Rijnstraat, since they were having a bargain sales week or something. I must have been inside the store, checking out some speakers, for 5 minutes when I heard some loud dutch cursing from the front-side-room of the store, where some TV-set was tuned in on CNN. I went there to look what the fuss was all about, customers as well as the entire sales crew were walking towards the same room where the TV-sets were. Walking in I remember people all looking at the same large screen with shock beaming from their eyes and their mouths open, some were explaining each other what fragments others had just missed. My first words in the room were: "Is this for real?" (in dutch) Yes, this was no movie, these were no special effects. several unknown people replied. So I added "but.. this is New York, right?". Someone was tuning a third TV-set to yet another station. I was somewhat flabbergasted and numb about it, just couldn't really believe this, I thought I was having some bad dream, wanted to go home fast and check it out in detail on my own TV. In the midst of all the turmoil I managed to buy the speakerset I had my eyes on. They were small, but the boxes were quite large, and I had to carry them all the way home. I had to take a tram. It was really full of people when I stepped in. People inside the tram were talking about it, you know, it's strange how events like this bring people together in cities. I recall standing in that packed tram with my speakers (all seats were taken) thinking there are so many similarities between New York City and Amsterdam, people were feeling really uncomfortable about it, New York is very close to us, we love that city, we grew up with it, pretty much, if not from TV or movies, then from being so much alike. This is a freedom loving city as well, with a lot of anonymous humans, all living in their own mini cosmos. I have lots of american friends whom I worried about since most live in NYC. These were weird minutes, some people could barely hold themselves together, public transportation is tense enough as it is when it's the busy hours, full of people trying not to lose their minds. I could tell this news caused and extra tension in that tram. Half of the people knew, the other half learned about it right then and there. "you're joking, right?" "No, I'm not." "No he isn't!" another anonymous person added. Slowly it sinked in, this was all really happening. Traffic outside the tram was panicky as well. More people were honking their horns than usual. Impatient, shocked. Walking from the tram to my home was grim, it was getting clouded, I was carrying the weight of the speaker-boxes as fast as I could. Inside I dumped the boxes on the floor and ran towards my TV's power-button, had a coat on that I didn't put off for at least an hour, as I sat there frozen in front of my TV holding the remote control in both my hands. As I understood what had happened some more I managed to ease down a little, and noticed that my answering machine blinked with 4 messages. I played them, friends were warning me about the news, "woah.. put on CNN! NOW!.. you will not believe your eyes!". I stayed in all evening, skipped everything else, watched the news from everywhere, went to chat and e-mail with parents and friends on the web about it. I missed that one girl I was in love with, wondered where she was, what she was thinking. I truly felt pain, anyone touching New York New York is touching me personally. I knew this would change life as we knew it back then. And it sure did...

Whitehaven, Cumbria, England

In 2001 I had just started to study my A-levels at my local secondary school. Being so early on in the school year, there wasn't much work to be done outside of class hours, so this was generally spent wandering around the sixth-form and library areas. At lunch a friend and me went to see who we could find hanging around. About one o'clock (UK time) we walked into the library to find two friends of ours. One - who studied English Literature and was sat with a writing pad in front of her, pen in hand - turned and said "have you heard the news?". Of course, we'd been at school all morning, so we hadn't heard much about anything and said no. "A plane's crashed into a world trade building" came the response. Thinking she was writing a story we didn't really believe this. "Yeah?" and "Really?" came our responses, "you're just writing a story" was the third. "No, seriously, they've got the TV on round there, go have a look." So we went to see.......how wrong were we? On BBC news 24, they were looping the picture of the first plane crashing. WE sat and watched it through our free period, then went to our last lesson, where it was all that was being talked about.
At home, it was on the TV all night, total devastation everywhere...
Although I didn’t know anyone that was injured or killed, I feel for the people that did, and am totally shocked by this action.
Peace to all Selphie 15:15, 12 Aug 2004 (UTC)

Texas, USA

I was 18. On the morning of September 11th, I was going to an event in our local civic center, a food expo for my high school hospitality class. I was listening to a morning show on my car radio, and they were letting a young, new artist (I think it was Michelle Branch) play her song on the show to help her get publicity. When that song ended, everything changed. The main DJ politely thanked her, then informed the audience that they hadn't wanted to interrupt the girl's song, but that something terrible had happened. An airplane had crashed into the WTC. With that statement, they had to cut to commercial break. I can remember driving along, thinking, "What...? What a terrible joke to tell, that's not funny at all! They shouldn't joke about something like that!" When they came back from commercial, they began to give more of the details as they knew them, and all I could think was, "This must be joke, it has to be." But they never started laughing. It was real. I parked my car at the civic center, but I couldn't go in. I thought to myself what a terrible accident it was, what a strange thing to happen. And then they said that a second plane had hit. There is no coincidence like that. It was intentional. One of the DJs began to cry as he reported, and I broke down with him. Eventually, I gathered myself up and went inside to the food event. I met up with my class and we asked each other in hushed voices, "Did you hear about the airplanes?" It didn't seem real at all. It was so distant and numb. We had a good time at the food fair, putting airplanes out of our minds as if that would make it disappear, but as time went on, everyone's heart became heavier. I went on back to school where the reaction was much the same. Numb shock. One of my teachers and many fellow students made bizarre jokes, trying to joke it out of existence too. I crawled into my car after classes and cried harder than I had before... my Dad was away on a business trip, and I didn't know where. That part made it even worse -- I hadn't even cared to ask where he was going. Once I went to work, I found out to my great relief that he was alright, only stuck far away because of the groundings. For the first time that day I saw the footage because my boss had brought up his tv so we could see. That's when it was really real. For weeks afterward, I kept dreaming about blood flowing from the side of the Statue of Liberty. For me and so many people around me, all sense of safety was suddenly stripped away. Our beautiful nation had been so badly hurt, when I had thought that nothing could ever really hurt America. Buildings just aren't demolished in instants. Thousands just aren't supposed to be killed in the blink of an eye. My strangest memory from the entire event is about Jane Eyre. My English teacher had assigned this book for us, and had set us at a pretty vigorous reading pace. The night of Sept 11 I was reading Jane Eyre because I had to, and I had never been angrier in my life. It felt like nothing mattered but what was happening right now. How I had treated the people I loved who could have died like those thousands. How little the day-to-day worries really mattered. How little it mattered what political party someone was, or whether someone had insulted me a week before. We were alive.

A letter home on 9/11/01 by *Szuki*

I took the early train into NY this morning and was ensconcend in my
office at One Liberty Plaza, across the street from the World Trade
Center by 7:15. Had to prep for a presentation at 9, right after a
departmental call at 8. It was sunny and clear, promising to get up
to 80.

As the departmental meeting was wrapping up, we felt a shake and a
bang. Sounded to me to be withing the parameters of normal NY city
noise, but the speaker on the call (possibly on the other side of our
building) interpreted it as an explosion. And he was right.

Look out any window, and you saw papers fluttering down - not the
small stuff you see when the yankees win - big sheets of various
colors along with bits of ceiling tile -- falling like heavy rain on a
beautiful morning. Crane your neck up though, and the damage was
unmistakable. Fire, smoke and burned out windows on the north tower
of the world trade center. Still raining litter.

We were instructed to move to the other side of the building, and stay
away from windows. Most of us called home. Cell phones were still
working. From the behind an emergency exit door, I could hear people
running down the stairwells to the lobby. We stayed put. Lights
still on, no smoke visible anywhere near us. I gathered my knapsack
and cell phone -we were anxious but not panicky. Grabbed the scooter
too - no telling when or how I was going to get home.

Second explosion shakes our building. Soon the instructions changed -
we are to leave the building. So down we go. On the other side of
the double stairwell, two colleagues are helping a very pregnant third
colleague down the stairs. Our eyes met as we rounded the stairs at
each landing, and at each floor the sense of urgency is growing. Can
I help - no, capable people are helping her. Near the bottom, we
heard that the cause was not an accident, and that the second
explosion was not gas -- instead it seems that twice the towers have
been hit by terrorists. This thing now seems to have no limits - what
other landmarks might attract Osama or Saddam?

Ground level - thank god no trampling or panic of that sort. On the
street it is fairly chaotic. I notice the litter. I notice a
photograph of two men - business types - taken in London with one of
the queen's guard in the background. This photo has fallen three
blocks away from the tower now spewing smoke. This represents to me a
somebody's life snuffed out. I can't drop the picture, and fold it
into my pocket, and now I am very sad.

Amulances, police cars of all sorts, come streaming and screaming down
the avenue to the WTC. A huge bus brisling with antennas, labelled
"metropolitan crisis command center" com hurtling down the avenue.
Naturally a cab or two follow in the wake of the last emergency
vehicle.

I met another colleague, who takes the same commuter train, and we
struck out together to try to get home on the other side of the river.
I figure the PATH train that terminates in the WTC is a bad bet. The
ferry that terminates there is also not likely to be running. Subways
will be iffy. So best to hoof it. We aim for the PATH station in
Greenwich Village, seeking the side streets, away from large buildings
and away from landmarks (police plaza, the courts where the other WTC
terrorists might have been tried). At every corner we can look back
at the two towers, still standing, spewing smoke and some fire, like
huge roman candles. Now the north side of number 2 is visible, and
the hole seems quite small, and does not have any sort of airplane
shape to it. There are still boundaries to this thing - just two
buildings and they are only damaged in the upper floors.

Thank god the PATH train is running and guess what, it's a free ride.
To Hoboken we go, slowly, and when we arrive I hurry to the commuter
train platforms. It seems they have wisely set up one long train on
each line. I hop aboard and begin to hear the stories from the other
passengers, one of whom has a big dirty smear on his forehead. All
are healthy.

First shock is that the Pentagon was also hit. This thing is getting
bigger and bigger.... Now it seems that the second tower was also hit
by an airplane - a commercial flight at that (definintely a United
plane)! One guy tells his story that includes the first really gory
bits - he has seen body parts, hands and legs, four blocks from the
WTC. (And it was a TWA flight.) A guy monitoring his news-spewing
beeper says that there was a third plane - but this is not confirmed
(airline not mentioned).

Now the towers have collapsed they say. We talk about Pearl Harbor.
They were lucky since the bad guys were flying clearly marked planes.
Who could have done this? August 11 - things are going to change.
Just the thing for a stalled economy? Going to be a lot of funerals
in Montclair. How many could have been killed?? Are there traders
even now loading up on defence stocks?

Remember the metropolitan disaster command center bus? It is probably
buried under the rubble.

The train will depart, they say, when it is full. Gives us time to
walk to the head of the train and look at the huge cloud of smoke
about a mile away - so dense that nothing at all of the towers are
visible. But there must be something. I am afraid that it will be
nothing more than a very large pile of rubble. The smoke trails is
probably visible from Spacelab, streaming off towards the south Jersey
shore. Obscuring, I might add, the statue of liberty (something
poetic there.)

How are my friends doing? One works in number 2 WTC. One was on the
street when it happened and left me a message. How many others are in
that mess?

From the station hear sirens and turn to see ambulances, tons of them,
from Kinnelon, Montville, Florham Park - these are communities an
hours drive from NYC - streaming into downtown Manhattan to help.

At the home train station, people look for friends, and news is shared
about who works in the WTC, who is accounted for, who is not. The
woman that Jerry was worried about is here, and they embrace - she is
getting teary, and says she's okay until she tries to talk. She was
in the World financial center just across from 1 WTC, and has had a
hard time of it.

A short ride home, down green tree lined streets and beautiful homes.
Is this what they want to destroy? How will this street change? How
will we change?

This is a very sad day first for the vicitms and their families,
second for the many more who will die in the fight that is sure to
come. Suddenly the future looks a bit iffy.

68.36.81.142 04:21, 3 Dec 2004 (UTC)

I remember what I was doing. I was skipping class and attempting to get off school property unnoticed when a friend came up with a discman and said 'listen to this!'. So I did. Then I went down to the smoke pit and sat in plain view of the teachers/administration and used the incident as an excuse to skip class without repercusions while I listened to the radio off and on (not the news) and smoked cigarettes.

Wikipedia user Brent Dax, Irvine, California

The previous night had been a late one. I had spent most of the night working on my first code patch for the nascent Parrot project, and only made it to bed at around four in the morning. At seven, my mother came into my room and woke me, saying something about planes crashing into buildings in New York—the exact words are lost to me four years later. I don't think they knew yet that terrorists had done it.

I got out of bed and wandered downstairs to see what was going on, and ended up being captured by the TV. I saw the first tower collapse, and I remember hoping that maybe the second would cling to the sky, but that was not to be; it followed its sister to the ground. I don't know if I realized there were still people in those buildings when they fell.

At some point, I had to go to school; it was my first day in a new independent study program. I don't remember much of what I did that day, but I do remember standing outside, waiting for my ride home to arrive, staring at the half-mast flag and trying to memorize the date and my grade and age; I understood at the time that this would be something people would talk about for the rest of my life.

05:08, 26 May 2005 (UTC)

From Buena Park, California

I first heard about the attacks a little bit after six in the morning pacific time. I was washing sleeping when my mom knocked on the door and said that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. The term World Trade Center didn’t mean anything to me at the time and I actually pictured in my mind the Empire State Building. As for the plane, I was not picturing a jet liner either. I was thinking of one of the small propeller planes that flew over my house all the time dangling out of the Empire State Building. No fire, no smoke, no chaos.

So I didn’t exactly hurry out of bed even though my mom had told me to come quickly. I rationalized that plane crashes happened all the time, not a big deal. I would soon learn how much of a big deal it was. That time in my bedroom was the last time I would ever live without a fear of America being attacked; I suppose you could say 10 September was my last day of innocence and America’s too.

So when I got out of the bath and saw the television screen I was truly amazed. I had not imagined a great ball of fire or all the smoke. What I imagined in my bed was totally and utterly wrong. The truth was that this was no ordinary plane crash, which was apparent because both towers were hit. So I tried to get ready for my second day of fifth grade the best I could despite the conditions of the morning. Normally, I would watch the news so that I wouldn’t be distracted by cartoons in the morning, but not that day. That day I couldn’t and watched Nickelodeon instead.

The only thing I remember of that morning at home after eating breakfast was walking past the television with CNN on it while carrying my laundry to the kitchen where the washing machine was. It was then that the first tower collapsed. I watched in awe and was intrigued by how it looked like a fountain of water, all the dust and smoke pluming down.

When I got to school that morning one thing that amazed me was that nobody was talking about it. Only one person came up to me and asked, “Did you see the news?” I said, “Yes,” and that was the end of the conversation. I think now that they were just as scared as I. In the class room however, though nobody wanted to talk about the attacks, everybody wanted to know about them so the teacher would turn on the news for about five minutes an hour so we could see what was going on. It wasn’t good.

Later that day or maybe even a couple of days after (it all just kind of blends together) we had assembly where the school principal basically reassured as all that we would be fine. It sure didn’t work with me. For weeks after I seriously thought that I was going to die. I had never felt fear like that before and haven’t since. The fear gradually faded away though I was still afraid for months of going to public places. Gradually, as my fear melted, great anger arose.

After this the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq occurred, the former of which I have no memorably strong feelings about other than that I thought it was correct and the latter I do not even want to touch on due to the controversy surrounding it.

1:00 16 July 2005 (PST)

I haven't found the right place for prayer in the story of September 11th. As an Englishman the recent bombings in London have brought the World Trade Centre attacks clearly into mind. My thoughts and those of many religous and Christian people have been and are with the victims of the attacks and all those affected by them. The challenge, looking back, seems to be: How can we live together as humans without turning to hate? It seems to me that we have to look to exemplars of understanding and non-violence, like Gandhi. May we all live together in peace.

July 28th, 2005.

**Los Angeles, California** - LAX area

On Sept. 11th, I was the Security Director for a hotel in the LAX area. I had stayed up late the previous nite and was sound asleep when I receive a call in the morning, waking me up, saying "You're not at the hotel? Didn't they call you in? Don't you know what's going on? Turn on the TV!" I sat and stared, completely numb. I couldn't believe it. My first instinct was to call the hotel. Everything's ok I was told, you don't have to come in early. I sat glued to the television for a whole five minutes when I was called by the hotel and told, "get in here right away". The adrenaline started to kick in and as I drove down Lincoln Blvd. past the airport, I saw the eerie sight of absolutley no air traffic. Becaue I barely had time to watch tv, I didn't know they had stopped all air traffic. That was the first thing I heard from the staff as I entered the hotel. Oh my God, I thought, we have airline crew who stay here........and I wondered. One of the flights crew (details withheld out of respect) had indeed stayed at our hotel, and the Front Desk staff was pretty traumatized. Then the realization hit that everyone who was due to depart that day wouldn't be able to, including the crews from 4 different airlines. In the hotel lounge, the TV was glued to CNN. Groups of guests and airline crews were huddled in little groups. We tried to help them as best we could.......free phone calls, giving them cell phone chargers left in lost & found, communicating with the airlines. They were clearly in shock, many were crying. We had a manager's meeting and found out that one of the hotels destroyed in Manhattan was from our company. Fellow employees were missing. An announcement was made that they were closing the airport. I will never in my life forget the images of passengers walking down Century Blvd, suitcases in tow, looking for hotels with rooms. Several employees now could not get to work because they were closing all roads leading into and out of the airport area. It was going to be a long day. Now the trouble started. The media was swarming all over the place. We made the decision to restrict hotel access to employees and guests only. Tons of reporters were trying to get in. I had the unpleasant task of telling them they had to leave. I was called more than a few names, told I was infringing on constitutional rights, and other such garbage. I was just trying to protect our guests. A reporter then snuck in, found her way to the bar, then pulled a video camera out of her coat, (no one wears a coat in LA in Sept) and shoves the camera in the face of an obviously distraught airline employee. I informed the reporter that I would physically remove her if she didn't leave. All together, we had to remove almost 30 reporters that day. Now, in Aug. of 05, I still dream about Sept. 11, but as if it is happening in LA. What I don't understand, is that the dreams are becoming more vivid and more frequent. I always wonder why I would be having more nightmares, not less. A portention of the future? I had another dream last night. I am going to Manhattan on a trip next week. My heart goes out to the people of New York. I wonder how they survived such trauma, and feel guilty that I am bothered by my nightmares. -- August, 2005

Allentown, Pennsylvania-
I remember where I was on Sept. 11, 2001 when the first plane hit the World Trade Center: I was in court in Vincennes, Indiana. When the judge came in and expressed his condolences for the families of the people there, and in Washington D.C., a murmur ran through the crowd: what was he talking about? my mom and I looked at each other and we felt sort of clueless, but when we got to the car, it was all over the news.

Everything had stopped: every regular broadcast was pre-empted to cover what became the second of two of the darkest days in American history. we got home in time to see the second plane hit the WTC, and I can honestly say not many things make me cry but as I watched those towers collapse I cried. looking back I am not sure if it was my own pain or the collective pain of the nation I was proudly born into; I may never know but I do know that when the sorrow subsided, something else came forth: anger. a great deal of anger. who did this? where are they? lets kick their &%\*es, I said to myself.

hold on, now, theres more. thats when the reports of flight 93 and the first victory in the war on terror came: I whooped and hollered because I knew that someone had fought back. the fight was on and I had a gut feeling that the pitbull-like tenacity of the American people would prevail. but for months after, it seemed as though all we could do is hurt. that wound ran deep, very deep, and I'll explain how deep later.

a year later, I was in Marysville, California, and I was given the unique opportunity to write an essay in a contest ( the Spirit of Freedom Awards) for my hometown paper, and I gave it everything I had: I pulled all the stops creatively to tell my story and convey a message of hope and strength. to my suprise, i took first place. t6hat doesn't matter, except that victory is for all those who didn't make it in 9/11/01, I won that for them and got the message out. at the award ceremony I spoke only briefly, though some say i am long winded I suprised everyone by simply saying I hoped that the message was worthy of those it was written about.

I think I did O.K.

I also wrote them ( the terrorists) a letter once, but I doubt I can post the whole contents on here because of the graphic nature of the letter and the extreme language I used. but I can tell you how it started and ended: it started "dear stupid idiots without honor," and ended "yours truly, the Angry American (one of millions)". (thank you Toby Keith for that rallying cry). I basically told them off in about 50 different ways, I think it was my way of coping with the deep anger and hurt. I never got to mail it, but some day, I just might. I'll address it to Osama bin Laden and stick a pinless hand grenade in with it. I'll take a fine tip pen and write the name of every person who died on 9/11 (NY,Washington D.C. and Pa.), 5/11 (Madrid) and 7/7 (London) on the grenade before I put it in there so that justice will be done. or, maybe I'll burn it. maybe I'll just hide it somewhere. I don't know I am still coping with that.

in 2004, I went to New York City, and I went to Ground Zero and thats when I realized how deep the wound in Americas' heart was. the silence, the.. the right words to describe it escape me. it was so sad I cried (again). but again, that anger surfaced: we knew who did this, and we were gonna bring them down. but as I passed by Ground Zero, all I could say was, " oh god.. oh god."

how could someone do this sort of thing? HOW? I don't know the answer and I doubt, gentle reader, you do either. as I left the site, I realized there is still much evil in the world, that day it took a physical form and killed 4000+ people at the WTC, the Pentagon, and in Western Pa. but there is much good, too, because I think of those who rushed into those burning buildings with no regard for their own life to save others, I think of those who took back that plane (flight 93) and struck down evil where it stood.

this year, and every year since that horribly tragic morning, I mark a moment of silence and a prayer thanking God for those who would stand against the darkness. I pray for the families of all those lost and I ask he give them some comfort and hope. this year, though, I got 2 patches from the Navy Exchange and put it on my leather jacket: on the left arm, the Operation Noble Eagle patch; on the right the Culpepper Flag. for those unfamiliar with this flag, it is a red and white striped flag with a rattlesnake across it and black petters at the bottom: " Don't Tread On Me." don't tread on me, I think thats a collective sentiment from this country.

if you read this, I hope perhaps I have touched off something in you: not hate, not anger, but hope. hope that good will win the day and already has won the day, that we can't just wave our flags for a year or two and then be content to go back to the way we were.when iron becomes steel it can't go back to being iron, we must not forget how that day changed us for better or worse. that day still echoes within the fiber of my being: it made me stronger.

I especially want to thank those who are overseas fighting to make this world right again. our troops and the collective troops of any nation who fights against those who would kill innocents. I also want to extend my heartfelt condolences to our bretheren in Spain who felt their own loss on 5/11/04 and to our brothers in arms in England who felt evils' sting on 7/7/05.

they awoke the sleeping giants, and P.S., they're pissed. (thanks to Thumper of Thumpers' wavs for that righteous quote.)

Phillip J. Crom, Also known as LTK

Oakville, Ontario, Canada

I remember September 11, 2001 fondly, it happened during my first week of high school, I had no clue what went on during the entire day of school. I had been busily going about my business at school. My father came to pick me up from school and while driving home he mentioned to me that two planes smashed into the World Trade Center in New York. At first, I couldn't believe it, I immediately denied what I was hearing thinking it was a very terrible joke, but then he said this was no joke. As soon as I got home I turned on the TV and practically every channel covered the news and I could not believe what I was witnessing. Immediately many questions came to mind, I wondered if the planes might have lost contact and some how lost altitude and hit the towers. Then I realized that there were two more planes, one that slammed into The Pentagon and the other that crashed in Pennsylvania. I was so sad and angry at the bastards that slammed those planes into the city where I grew up. I waited for the President to address the Nation on television. Though I do not agree with President Bush at all now, at the time I needed leadership and I needed comfort and he delivered it, I feel happy to hear someone take the pulse of the Nation and put it into words.

For the next few days I reflected and could not believe what had happened. The world was about to change, at the time I did not want to fly. But soon, I did gather up the courage to do those things. I prayed for the families who had been affected by this tragedy, and for the brave police officers and fire fighters.

I hope by reading this you did get a sense of a foreigner's point of view from what I say. --207.188.66.33 02:42, 21 September 2005 (UTC)

Houston, TX
The day before the 9/11 attacks, I was up all night arguing with my boyfriend about whether Saddam Hussein could be a redeemable character or not. (He feels the attacks answered the question. http://www.chrisxradio.com) The next morning, I remember waking up from a nap at the school where I was teaching, to see the television images of planes crashing into smouldering flames, right before the buildings collapsed. I had just lost my father July 31, then Sept. 11 hit, then on October 1 the director of our school died, leaving me to run the administration from 6am-11pm for 3 months until the students finished their finals. I did not have time to finish grieving for these back-to-back losses. That fall, I wrote a memorial song as a tribute to the Firefighters and Families of 9/11 http://www.houstonprogressive.org/believe/believe.html. I was in the middle of producing this memorial song for public radio this fall, when Hurricane Katrina flooded Houston with evacuees from Louisiana and, weeks later, Hurricane Rita forced me, along with 2.8 million other residents, to flee from Houston and Galveston. I am still in Austin, feeling the suppressed panic of being stuck in a 100-mile long traffic jam, which I never want to see again. If I cannot even handle the stress of a planned evacuation, think of the families who survived 9/11.

Virginia Beach, Virginia
Hello, I am known as Jeb or even as 'jebbie' by many in northern Virginia, in the Woodbridge area in Prince William County.

I was in Virginia Beach on September 11 2001.
I was conducting a jebwalk along the concrete boardwalk in Virginia Beach on that morning, at about 830am. I was nearing 33rd Street at about 9am when I heard someone say something about an airliner crashing into a building in New York City. I turned and said I thought that was a joke in very poor taste. He replied that it had actually happened. This guy showed me his room at the Thunderbird hotel on 33rd Street, where about 20 other people were watching the TV.

I saw another plane crash into one of the World Trade Center towers. I said, What a terrible accident. Someone in the room said it was a terrorist attack. We watched the towers burn and then people started jumping out of the buildings. I was dazedly thinking that this looked like a Hollywood-produced disaster movie, but the problem was that it was REAL, and ongoing. Then we watched the towers collapse.

At that point it abruptly became too much for me to watch anymore. I stumbled out of there completely devastated beyond words. I wandered around in a fog all day. Later on I found a lonely space between two beach cottages in North Virginia Beach and fell down on my knees and cried my eyes out. I had no idea what else to do. This was way beyond my experience and I could not even begin to cope with it.

Later on I stumbled back to my hotel, still in a daze and numb. I knew our whole world had changed. The people I was staying with were saying over and over, We need to go kick some \*\*\*, over and over again. They were completely ticked off. Some of them never stopped watching that TV until we left four days later.

The next day I noticed something unbelievable: Strangers helping each other on the street. I went out to get a newspaper and found a pile of quarters on the newsstand. I could not bear to use them. I went and got five dollars' worth of quarters, bought one newspaper then left the remaining quarters on the newsstand for others to use. It was amazing and intriguing the way Americans reacted to this disaster: Helping each other out like I have never seen before in my entire life.

When I got home on September 14, I saw people holding candlelight vigils on street corners all over my neighborhood. I had never seen that before in my neighborhood. People were very, very nice, even people I had never met before in my life.

This was a very traumatic but also interesting time.

*Pasadena, California*

At first I had no idea how much this impacted my family. Local time in California is three hours behind New York. I was checking an e-mail list and saw a very short post. It said something like, "Turn on the news right now. I'm not kidding." So I turned on the radio. In the immediate aftermath of the attacks the station management hadn't thought to suspend the commercials. So it was very strange, hearing about the destruction and breaking every few minutes to get advertisements for toothpaste and the like.

My uncle was an engineer who did contracting work for the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. I guessed all the telephone lines would be busy back east so I called a cousin in northern California. He had just heard from New York.

In the next two minutes I learned that yes, Uncle Bill worked in Manhattan. Yes, his office was in the World Trade Center: seventy-second floor, north tower. And yes, he had gotten out alive.

My cousin and I made a telephone tree and called the rest of the family. Over the following days and months I learned more about my uncle's remarkable escape. It never seemed right to pry. I just listened. He had been having a morning meeting with his boss when the first airplane struck. He was a few floors below the impact, close enough that the shock knocked a lot of large objects. That debris killed his boss instantly. My uncle wasn't touched.

My uncle didn't even stop by his desk to pick up his wallet. He went straight for the stairwell, which was what everyone else was doing. So the descent was very slow. When he finally got close to the lower floors the firefighters started coming upward, making the descent even slower. It took my uncle more than an hour to get out.

When he reached the street level the floor was nearly knee deep in water, probably from firefighting efforts or a water main break. The ground floor of the World Trade Center was about the size and layout of a suburban shopping mall. My uncle says it took him ten minutes to wade to the exit.

If you know the timetable for how the north tower collapsed you know that cuts things very close. My uncle escaped less than one minute before it fell. He only had enough time to run across the street before it came crashing down. He ducked into a subway entrance to avoid the debris. My cousins say he saw body parts falling out of the sky.

Most of the people from my uncle's office are no longer alive.

In the chaos immediately following the disaster the streets hadn't been closed yet. So he went to his apartment, took a shower, and changed his clothes. It would be three weeks before he would be able to sleep in his own bed again.

I joined the Navy because of that day.

"Riley-Australa"
I was olny in Year Two at the time of September 11. You gotta remember thogh, that Year twos are not the smartest people. But, on the day, I woke up early, because I had to go to before school care. But, I went out into the TV room of my house and saw that image that I will never forget. I saw the plane crashing into the tower. Dad drove me to school and we went to the Before school care. The thing I remember most was, that everyone was crouded around the TV, and someone walked into the room. The person, who obvisly did not hear about 9.11 before this moment walked into the room, his eyes wide in horror.

I was on my way to an interview at Morgan Stanley. I had stopped off at my school to burn my portfolio onto a CD for the art department. I was goofing off with some friends at the PC labs so I lost bit of time. Eventually I flew out of the lab and ran to the train. After 30 minutesv the subway ride over was suddenly stopped. The conductor announced what happened. A chill went down my spine and I almost broke down. If I hadn't goofed off at school, god knows what wouldve happened if i went in on time
GabrielNYC

I received this email sep. 12, 2001

Re: Hope
It was nice to hear from you. One of my best friends was in one of those flights that crashed into the towers. He was on his way from Boston to LA on a business trip. You may have known him. He was Patrick Currivan.

A great loss. It hits home much more when it is so close.
Peace be with you.

My first reaction was a sense of happiness. America had finally been defeated. We had won. Anonymous 11:06, 1 June 2006 (UTC)

I was only 11 years old when they bombed the World Trade Center, and I distinctly remember sitting on our daycare's green rocking chair, next to the radio. It was really early in the morning, and I was very sleepy. So when CBC radio announced that a plane had been sent into the World Trade Center (North) in New York, I thought it was a joke. I told my mom, who was working at the daycare - about what I had heard. She ignored my comment, thinking I was just joking around, and continued to work. I was scared - I mean, really...what if it happened to us?

The news finally set in with my mom. I had to make sure that none of the younger kids heard anything, because if they did, they'd flip out. I was in way too much shock, and at first, I didn't want to go to school - but, I knew I had to.

When I got to school, the older kids and the kids in my year were talking about "how cool it must have been to see an airplane go into a building at a 'bajillion' miles an hour." Next thing I knew, a boy started beating up another kid because of what he had said. I talked to the boy a few days later, and asked him why he did it. He said that he feared his distant cousin, who worked with FDNY - and was apparently working on that day (as he worked 6 days a week and that was NOT his day off) might have died rescuing someone. He also had an auntie working somewhere on the South Tower, but hadn't heard from her. I had talked to him on September 15th. The last time I saw him - two years ago - he said that his auntie had never called them since.

I know that September 11th was a devastating day in the lives of not just those living in New York, or the States - but a devastating day in the lives of all of us throughout the world. Although we have borders between us, we are all connected - and I know that I certainly felt the brunt of that attack. Not physically, but emotionally.

September 11th has inspired in me a lot of things that I never thought I would do. In any event, I'm sixteen now, and I know that I will be going into government work. I never want to see what happened on that day happen again. And I curse the person who wrote that message above mine - and those who feel that these attacks were justifiable in any way. That is not what people with a heart would write.

God Bless America, and may He bless you, and protect you from all that comes your way.

Place: Chicago, IL

On September 11, 2001, I was like any typical child whose birthday is a couple of days away. That morning I wake up and got ready for school as usually, ready to broadcast nine more days until my 12th birthday. Seating in class, all I remember is the princple coming over the innercom, saying that all students will leave school early. That was after the first plane hit. My teacher turned the tv on in our room and a split second later, we saw the second plane hit the second tower. We left the school early due to threats on the sears tower. When I got home, I cried, I never mentioned my birthday that day or couple of days after, all I could think about was the many people that were killed, and the many people all over the world that were hurt and forever will be hurt by this tragedy.

NW Indiana.

I had been divorced for several years, living in NW Indiana with my girlfriend; my ex and two kids lived a short drive away in Chicago. I was in the first semester of law school, and becoming progressively overwhelmed by the amount of reading. Because it was impossible to spend the day in class and commuting and still get the reading done, I decided to stay home that day, September 11. We had radio and internet but no television. Sometime after 9AM, my ex calls me and says that New York is under terrorist attack, maybe Chicago will be attacked, what should we do? Thinking that this was a pretty typical delusional anxiety attack from her, I decided to humor her. "I'm sure that the terrorists wouldn't attack a Chicago suburb--the kids will be fine." I get off the phone slightly bemused, go look at the news on the Internet. Something is up. I turn on NPR. About 9:30 or so, my girlfriend comes in after having already left for school in Chicago: the trains have been shut down, no one is getting into Chicago today. I think: well, I picked the right day to play hooky. Then while the radio is playing--I'm not sure what time this was--I'm on the Internet and see the pictures. "What's going on with the Towers?" she asks me. Long pause. "The Towers are *gone*." I start ranting loudly about the Israelis and the Palestinians, and how enough is enough and some international force should just impose its will on the both of them, as their insanity seems to have spilled out into the rest of the world (I assume, for some reason, that Palestinians have done this). The rest of the day goes normally--we live in a semi-rural town, the sun is shining. I feel some sort of inexorable, inexplicable need to somehow connect with the events unfolding, and lacking any TV cable service, feel strangely shut off from the world. This prompts me, again, somewhat inexplicably, to race to the video store and rent *The Siege*, which I watch that afternoon at home, to her dismay.

Back at school, sometime that week... The student body meets on the main floor lobby and there is some kind of moment of silence. Things are still sinking in. At lunch, one of the Jewish students comments "of course it was Saddam..." In class, a woman raises her hand and says that someone on her cellphone just said that the Sears Tower is being evacuated because a plane is coming for it from O'Hare. The professor, usually a smug study in aplomb, exclaims "then let's get the hell out of here!" (We are in the shadow of the Tower). We all flee out to the street, mill around, smoke cigarettes and then wander back in after awhile.

Sometime later, I read a Seymour Hersh article about securing nukes in Pakistan in the event of turmoil. In the same class, I kibbitz with a friend and offer, astoundingly enough, to bet him a hundred dollars that nuclear weapons will be used against a civilian population sometime before we graduate. The bet is real and I really believe this. Two years and some months later, I write him a check; in the meantime he milked the story of my crazy bet for all it's worth...

Over the next couple of years, time goes by like nothing has happened. I know no one directly affected. Sometimes I close my eyes, and see horrifying images, as if I have PTSD, just like in a movie, a hard cut to some shocking footage of massive destruction, screams, bodies falling through space. Why is this? I didn't even see it on television. Strangers on the other side of the world have colonized my imagination.

I become obsessed with the coming Iraq War. I tell a friend sometime in late 2001 that war against Iraq is now inevitable. He says "the Democrats will never allow it." I pretend to be a kind of amateur pundit, but in my heart I know: I want revenge. I want people to die. Unimaginable numbers of people. Later when I hear the "Bush lied us into a war" rhetoric, I think: self-deception is sweet--the surging swell of the American collective unconscious wanted Arabs dead, lots of Arabs dead, any Arabs. In the little steel town where I lived, we all had murder in our hearts. American flags everywhere. In the nick of time, I come out against the war before it starts; hundreds of times in hundreds of conversations, I mention "I was against the war." Two blocks away, a neighbor loses a son in Iraq; now yellow ribbons everywhere.

David Bowie releases *Heathen*. In the song 'Sunday,' he says "Nothing has changed/Everything has changed." Whenever I think of 9/11 now, I hear those words.

Waalre, The Netherlands (Holland)

It's now 5 years ago the atacs on sept.11th took place. On the day itself I was working and we had a fire-drill at the school I worked at. I remember everybody leaving the building and outside smoked their cigarettes chit-chatting. 2 hours later sombody bursted into our office: "Two planes crashed into the WTC in New York." There were no TV's for us to watch. So we searched the Internet. We where flabberghasted by what we saw. 1 hour later I went to pick up my daughter (6 months) and went home. The second I turned on the TV I saw the first tower collapse Live on TV.

I collapsed on the couch as well. I could not beleve my eyes. At some time you want to turn off the TV, but you just can't. My little daughter sat with me, unusualy quiet, as if she could feel something was realy off. Now 5 years later I'm still shocked by the documentaries and stories. The last few weeks I've been reading personal stories of survivors, families and friends and others about 9/11. Many times I had to stop, overwelmed by the stories.

It was a day that changed the way of thinking in our world. Even in the smallest corners of the world.

Al people are equal, so stop beïng stupid and accept people for what they are and not change them in to what you want them to be. I'm South-African born, live in Holland and know two cultures. If you can not adapt, then at least take it for what it is.

My thoughts are with all those struck by this terrible day.

Mountain View (SF Bay Area), CA

At the time, I had a long commute so used to get up at 5 am, do chores, drink some coffee, watch the early news to check traffic, then out the door at 6:50. On the West Coast, it was 5:50 am or so when the news first broke - just the shots of the fire in the first tower and still not sure if was a small plane that hit it. I woke up my husband and told him "something bad is going on New York". We were watching live when the second plane hit. To this day, I will remember that my brain simply couldn't process what I was seeing - "Why are planes flying into the buildings?". My husband new immediately - "it's deliberate". That's when I got scared - really, really, really scared. During the first few hours, we really didn't know the extent. My husband and I decided I would not get on the road. We felt the possibility that San Francisco might be in danger and he didn't want me too far from home. At that point I called my parents - "Are you watching TV?" I asked. No, they were in bed. I told them to turn on the TV. And then we just watched, horrified. At some point, we began to hear of/see the jumpers. It still haunts me to this day. I can't even write about it now - the tears start to flow immediately - it is just too much to bear.

At some point my sister called me - she was pretty panicked. I went into the den and tried to talk her down and tell her not to go into work - just stay home - and my husband called me from the living room to tell me one of the towers had collapsed. Again, my brain was simply not processing the information - I was numb. I honestly couldn't accept what was there in front of me. Then the second tower fell and that's when I lost it. I really lost it. All those lives - gone in an instant. It just became real at that point. I screamed and cursed and cried.

Today, I still get chills when I see the film footage. It will never leave me - not ever. The initial shock and fear not knowing how many planes, how many cities. The raw despair as the day wore on and the reality of all sunk in. The compassion as the stories came out. How could you make a last call from that plane? What would I do if it were me facing a horrible death - would I jump? What would I do if my husband were among the missing? The footage of the folks lining the streets as the volunteers from all over poured in. You went from the depths of despair to the heights of pride - from unimaginable anguish to such incredible stories of heroism - from death to life. Emotions were just whipsawed back and forth. And realizing that we were witnessing something so profound in our history - even more profound than the Kennedy, the moon walk - both of which I experienced and remembered. It was so much more.

And now, every year, at 5:45 am, I cross the street to our local fire house and leave my small remembrance. The station has a wonderful bronze sculpture hanging on the station wal. A fireman's hat and coat, as if hanging on a peg hang on the wall, a pair of boots just below - and two dalmation pups playing in the boots. Put up before 9/11, I believe it was meant to be whimsical. For me, it is the gear of a lost hero. So each 9/11, I place a single candle there. In gratitude for all they do and in memory for the lost of that day. It seems so small considering the enormity of that loss. But it's my small way to keep the memory of those souls alive.

Claremont, CA

I was in my sophomore year of college at the time. I got ready in the morning just like any other day, not checking the internet news because of an early class. I went to the suite next door, waiting on my neighbors to go to breakfast together like usual. Within a few mintues one of them got an email from a parent in Texas telling him to turn on CNN. When we flipped on the TV, there were the smoking towers, looming large on the screen. The reporters obviously didn't know what was going on. The morning toothbrushing continued while we waited for the newscaster to offer more information. I think we must have woken up some of the other suitemates at some point, because it seems all five of us were watching by the time the first tower collapsed. It all seemed so unreal, how slow it all unfolded on television. I remember the newscaster talking frantically the whole time, but I don't remember what he said. He really had nothing to add beyond what we were all seeing and feeling. We all thought that a bomb had caused the collapse, and watched the replays closely, speculating in the absence of facts. We went to our class in a little bit of a daze; we didn't have enough time for breakfast anymore.

When we got to the lecture hall, the professor was standing in front of the room next to a radio tuned to the news. He let us sit and listen until a few minutes before we normally started, then announced that class was cancelled, telling the students from New York that they should go call their parents. He was the only professor I knew of that day who cancelled a class, but it was one of the few early lectures. Some friends from New England said that they'd already tried their parents, but couldn't get through. I think it must have been personal for them than us, who were all from the South or Southwest, wondering if any family had been down to New York on business, counting how many friends had moved to the City. We went back to the suite to watch more CNN, but I don't remember much of the rest of the newscast. I think we were a little too numb by the time the second tower collapsed for it to make much of an impact.

## See also

**War on Terrorism** -- **U.S. invasion of Afghanistan** -- **2001 anthrax attack** -- World Trade Center -- Pentagon -- New York City -- Washington -- AA Flight 11 -- UA Flight 75 -- AA Flight 77 -- UA Flight 93 -- U.S. Department of Defense -- terrorism -- domestic terrorism -- Osama bin Laden -- Taliban -- Islamism -- Afghanistan -- collective trauma

## External links

Lefty's September 11th Memorial

http://www.fray.com/hope/pieces/

http://www.yankthechain.com/moon.html

"Heroes in Heaven" Memorial Tribute