Ground Zero + 40 blocks
There is a blog effort to remember the victims of September 11, 2001 called Project 2,996. Their main website is inundated and seems to be down for the day, so instead I'm linking to Beth at Cup of Coffey, has links to other bloggers who are participating. Bloggers are taking time today to write a little bio and pay tribute to the people who paid with their lives when the planes downed the WTC, smashed the Pentagon, and hit a field in PA. My heart aches for their friends and loved ones, who have to live with this sadness the rest of their lives.
I'm so sorry.
I didn't get my act together to enroll, so I don't represent one of the 2,996. Instead, I'm going to tell you my story. I don't talk about this often...even if you ask me directly...and I'm unlikely to start anytime soon. But I think of it. All the time. It informs everything I do. It's one of the happy stories. I am lucky. I am charmed.
I ramble, so this is long. You don't need to read it. But I feel like getting this out tonight.
9 Sept 01 - my company was doing a multi-million dollar presentation for a financial services customer on Monday the 10th and I had to be in New York ...since I hadn't seen Tom and George in ages, so I decided to fly in a day early. Took a Sun Country flight full of Jehovah's Witnesses to JFK. They gave me hershey's kisses and a copy of the Watchtower to read. Had a nice chat with the lady across the aisle, and wished her a friendly farewell when we parted in the terminal. My friend Tom (CP to those who know us through blogs) picked me up and took me to Brooklyn. Georgie and Tom and I went for all you can eat sushi. We belly-laughed and had classic TomandMindy time. We talked about how cool our lives were, now that we were jet setters. Went home and pressed our suits. Slept well. I was happy.
10 Sept 01 - Tom and I rushed around in our undies and ate breakfast and got dressed. Tom had an interview at a law firm about 10 blocks from my office, so we were sharing a car into the city. Just as we crossed into Manhattan my phone rang. Presentation delayed...instead of doing it in our offices uptown today, we were doing it at the WTC on Tuesday AM.
Cool! Another day in the city! Amid promises to call Tom if I had time, we kissed each other for luck and said goodbye...Tom jumped out of the car and waved me off. "Love and Miss You!" he shouted...our traditional farewell.
I called my folks, who were in Minneapolis for a few days and were expecting me at dinner that night. "Sorry, won't be there until tomorrow night...but I get to present tomorrow at the WTC...how cool is that?" They were excited for me.
Spent the day working on the proposal and took a late lunch at a funky Italian place where we had too much wine for a Monday afternoon. Strolled back to our offices where all hell had broken loose. Our sales account manager and the client were in the middle of a huge row on the phone.
She told him to "go fuck himself"...if he was going to steal our ideas he could bloody well come uptown and get them himself. Bad call, Hillary. Never use the F-word with a customer.
Called Tom to cancel our plans for the night. He'd had a good interview, and was bummed we couldn't celebrate. Next time. Love and Miss You!
The presentation was off, then on, then off again.
Final score at 7PM - We'd won this round...Presentation ON, in our office building on Sixth Ave, just south of Radio City Music Hall, 9AM sharp. Not sure if the clients would show, but the plan was set.
I was glad I'd remembered extra underwear. Slept well. I was happy.
11 Sept 2001
The clients started arriving around 830. We chatted over coffee, and then opened a conference call with a woman who had to stay in her office at the WTC because she had another meeting. More small talk...and then she stopped talking and started saying, "Oh MYGOD!" Echoing all over the conference room....OHMYGOD, OHMY GOD! She told us a plane had hit the other tower and they were being evacuated. She said a fast goodbye and hung up. We're thinking Cessna. What a moron!
We wanted more info. We went upstairs to our main office where there was a TV. Couldn't get any reception. I left them to work on it and called my mom. I was thinking she'd be worried, and I wanted to tell her I was okay. She didn't know anything about this plane-into-building thing. She turned on the Today show. Told me what she saw.
Oh my.
I promised her I was fine. I was 40 blocks away (though she doesn't know New York and I later learned that meant nothing to her.) Told her I loved her. Lost cell phone service after that, so didn't talk to her again until I was somewhere in Pennsylvania.
We found a Spanish language channel that gave us a picture, and my colleague Paul tried to translate since he speaks Italian. We had a radio with English updates. Our clients were panicking....their offices were there...their friends were there....they felt helpless and freaked out. The second plane hit. The towers fell. The Pentagon got hit by a plane from NYC.
Oh no. Tom was flying to DC this morning. Where was he??? Was he okay????
Phones didn't work. Planes were bombing us at one every 15 minutes. We were under attack. I'm in a room of strangers...people I'd met the day before, people I'd only known from a few hour-long meetings in a conference room. The world was ending, and I felt completely alone.
But I couldn't cry.
I finally got a phone line. I called our office in MSP. We'd checked out of the hotel we were in, so I asked them to get us rooms somewhere for the night, preferably out of the tourist areas that might be targets for more attacks. We stayed in our offices until noon, then figured we had to go somewhere....we felt vulnerable, and our clients were in shock and wanted to get home. It was a long walk ahead of them to Long Island and New Jersey.
We went into the street. It's noon on a Tuesday. It's Sixth Avenue. It was silent. Hundreds and hundreds of people walking north, in total, utter silence. No honking of horns. No pushing, no shouting. Silence.
Buses went past with white, sooty people pressed against the windows. Blood on their foreheads or arms looked really red against the ash. People clustered around mailboxes, listening to boom boxes for news of the world. You could whisper a request for an update, and someone would tell you the latest in a hushed tone.
We moved to Fifth Avenue and started walking towards the park. The shops had their riot windows down. People were sitting on curbs, resting their feet. Crying. No one would look downtown.
Silence.
It was a clear day, warm and sunny...but there was something in the air that made it hard to breathe so we decided to walk at a slower pace. We had about 50 blocks ahead of us. No hurry. Nowhere to go.
Where was Tom???? Verizon mobiles were still working, so I borrowed Brenda's phone. I called his mobile. Left a message. Please call me to tell me you're okay...you'll get voicemail, but eventually I'll know. Love and Miss You.
I didn't cry.
We strategised as we walked. I got directions to a car rental place and made Paul run the 10 blocks out of our way to get a car, ANY CAR they'd give him. Stand there, don't move, MAKE them give you keys. There are five of us...I don't care if we cram in like clowns....we'll get something bigger once we're out of the city. It would be our only way out.
When we got to our hotel, we looked out over the Queensborough bridge at the slow-motion marathon of people slowly walking home. Thousands of them, crossing the bridge, miles to go before dark.
It was a sunny day.
I didn't cry.
Got a call through to work. Gave my friend Mark a few family phone numbers and asked him to call people to tell them I was okay. He sent me to my voicemail. I changed my outgoing message for callers so they knew that I was safe. I listened to my messages.
Message one...my mom. Mindy, where are you? You said you were four blocks from the WTC....are you okay?
Two...Tom. Crying. Panicked. Desperate. Please tell me you're okay. Please tell me you weren't in that building. Please. Love and miss you. Please be okay. Love and miss you. Love you.
We sat in the lobby with other lost souls, watching CNN for updates. The bridges were closed. No one was leaving. We went to a restaurant on Second Avenue for lunch. They'd decorated with angels everywhere we looked. This made us feel better.
Paul showed up with the car. A Mercury Marquis we nicknamed the Silver Bullet. Brenda and Lisa were panicked at the thought of leaving, Paul, Jean and I were not about to stay. We agreed to part ways, with B&L hanging out to wait for flights and P,J, and me hitting the road.
Drove the wrong way on a one-way through the Bronx. By the time we got to the GWB they'd closed it again...explosives in a Ryder truck in the middle of the bridge....We headed north to the Henry Hudson Bridge and were the last car they let out for the night.
Once we reached the Tappan Zee Bridge, we had no choice...we had to look down the Hudson at the city behind.
The smoke and dust and fire made for a beautiful sunset, silhouetting the city in a burst of colour. I took a picture. Never got it developed. Don't need to.
We drove through the night, taking turns at the wheel while the others called their loved ones to tell them we were okay.
Still couldn't find Tom. Had he gotten my message? Did he know I was fine? Where was he? Was he okay?
Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, Jean said it. What we'd been thinking for 15 hours. What no one wanted to say. We were supposed to be in that building. We were supposed to be in that building, only a few floors from where the plane hit. We were supposed to be there.
But we weren't.
Pulled over in Ohio to get some sleep. Turned on the tv. Saw people jumping. Saw flames. Saw planes. Saw buildings tumble. Again. And again. and again.
Called my voicemail. Tom had left me a message. He was okay. He was so glad I was safe.
Finally, I cried. And in some ways I haven't stopped.
I'm so sorry.
I didn't get my act together to enroll, so I don't represent one of the 2,996. Instead, I'm going to tell you my story. I don't talk about this often...even if you ask me directly...and I'm unlikely to start anytime soon. But I think of it. All the time. It informs everything I do. It's one of the happy stories. I am lucky. I am charmed.
I ramble, so this is long. You don't need to read it. But I feel like getting this out tonight.
9 Sept 01 - my company was doing a multi-million dollar presentation for a financial services customer on Monday the 10th and I had to be in New York ...since I hadn't seen Tom and George in ages, so I decided to fly in a day early. Took a Sun Country flight full of Jehovah's Witnesses to JFK. They gave me hershey's kisses and a copy of the Watchtower to read. Had a nice chat with the lady across the aisle, and wished her a friendly farewell when we parted in the terminal. My friend Tom (CP to those who know us through blogs) picked me up and took me to Brooklyn. Georgie and Tom and I went for all you can eat sushi. We belly-laughed and had classic TomandMindy time. We talked about how cool our lives were, now that we were jet setters. Went home and pressed our suits. Slept well. I was happy.
10 Sept 01 - Tom and I rushed around in our undies and ate breakfast and got dressed. Tom had an interview at a law firm about 10 blocks from my office, so we were sharing a car into the city. Just as we crossed into Manhattan my phone rang. Presentation delayed...instead of doing it in our offices uptown today, we were doing it at the WTC on Tuesday AM.
Cool! Another day in the city! Amid promises to call Tom if I had time, we kissed each other for luck and said goodbye...Tom jumped out of the car and waved me off. "Love and Miss You!" he shouted...our traditional farewell.
I called my folks, who were in Minneapolis for a few days and were expecting me at dinner that night. "Sorry, won't be there until tomorrow night...but I get to present tomorrow at the WTC...how cool is that?" They were excited for me.
Spent the day working on the proposal and took a late lunch at a funky Italian place where we had too much wine for a Monday afternoon. Strolled back to our offices where all hell had broken loose. Our sales account manager and the client were in the middle of a huge row on the phone.
She told him to "go fuck himself"...if he was going to steal our ideas he could bloody well come uptown and get them himself. Bad call, Hillary. Never use the F-word with a customer.
Called Tom to cancel our plans for the night. He'd had a good interview, and was bummed we couldn't celebrate. Next time. Love and Miss You!
The presentation was off, then on, then off again.
Final score at 7PM - We'd won this round...Presentation ON, in our office building on Sixth Ave, just south of Radio City Music Hall, 9AM sharp. Not sure if the clients would show, but the plan was set.
I was glad I'd remembered extra underwear. Slept well. I was happy.
11 Sept 2001
The clients started arriving around 830. We chatted over coffee, and then opened a conference call with a woman who had to stay in her office at the WTC because she had another meeting. More small talk...and then she stopped talking and started saying, "Oh MYGOD!" Echoing all over the conference room....OHMYGOD, OHMY GOD! She told us a plane had hit the other tower and they were being evacuated. She said a fast goodbye and hung up. We're thinking Cessna. What a moron!
We wanted more info. We went upstairs to our main office where there was a TV. Couldn't get any reception. I left them to work on it and called my mom. I was thinking she'd be worried, and I wanted to tell her I was okay. She didn't know anything about this plane-into-building thing. She turned on the Today show. Told me what she saw.
Oh my.
I promised her I was fine. I was 40 blocks away (though she doesn't know New York and I later learned that meant nothing to her.) Told her I loved her. Lost cell phone service after that, so didn't talk to her again until I was somewhere in Pennsylvania.
We found a Spanish language channel that gave us a picture, and my colleague Paul tried to translate since he speaks Italian. We had a radio with English updates. Our clients were panicking....their offices were there...their friends were there....they felt helpless and freaked out. The second plane hit. The towers fell. The Pentagon got hit by a plane from NYC.
Oh no. Tom was flying to DC this morning. Where was he??? Was he okay????
Phones didn't work. Planes were bombing us at one every 15 minutes. We were under attack. I'm in a room of strangers...people I'd met the day before, people I'd only known from a few hour-long meetings in a conference room. The world was ending, and I felt completely alone.
But I couldn't cry.
I finally got a phone line. I called our office in MSP. We'd checked out of the hotel we were in, so I asked them to get us rooms somewhere for the night, preferably out of the tourist areas that might be targets for more attacks. We stayed in our offices until noon, then figured we had to go somewhere....we felt vulnerable, and our clients were in shock and wanted to get home. It was a long walk ahead of them to Long Island and New Jersey.
We went into the street. It's noon on a Tuesday. It's Sixth Avenue. It was silent. Hundreds and hundreds of people walking north, in total, utter silence. No honking of horns. No pushing, no shouting. Silence.
Buses went past with white, sooty people pressed against the windows. Blood on their foreheads or arms looked really red against the ash. People clustered around mailboxes, listening to boom boxes for news of the world. You could whisper a request for an update, and someone would tell you the latest in a hushed tone.
We moved to Fifth Avenue and started walking towards the park. The shops had their riot windows down. People were sitting on curbs, resting their feet. Crying. No one would look downtown.
Silence.
It was a clear day, warm and sunny...but there was something in the air that made it hard to breathe so we decided to walk at a slower pace. We had about 50 blocks ahead of us. No hurry. Nowhere to go.
Where was Tom???? Verizon mobiles were still working, so I borrowed Brenda's phone. I called his mobile. Left a message. Please call me to tell me you're okay...you'll get voicemail, but eventually I'll know. Love and Miss You.
I didn't cry.
We strategised as we walked. I got directions to a car rental place and made Paul run the 10 blocks out of our way to get a car, ANY CAR they'd give him. Stand there, don't move, MAKE them give you keys. There are five of us...I don't care if we cram in like clowns....we'll get something bigger once we're out of the city. It would be our only way out.
When we got to our hotel, we looked out over the Queensborough bridge at the slow-motion marathon of people slowly walking home. Thousands of them, crossing the bridge, miles to go before dark.
It was a sunny day.
I didn't cry.
Got a call through to work. Gave my friend Mark a few family phone numbers and asked him to call people to tell them I was okay. He sent me to my voicemail. I changed my outgoing message for callers so they knew that I was safe. I listened to my messages.
Message one...my mom. Mindy, where are you? You said you were four blocks from the WTC....are you okay?
Two...Tom. Crying. Panicked. Desperate. Please tell me you're okay. Please tell me you weren't in that building. Please. Love and miss you. Please be okay. Love and miss you. Love you.
We sat in the lobby with other lost souls, watching CNN for updates. The bridges were closed. No one was leaving. We went to a restaurant on Second Avenue for lunch. They'd decorated with angels everywhere we looked. This made us feel better.
Paul showed up with the car. A Mercury Marquis we nicknamed the Silver Bullet. Brenda and Lisa were panicked at the thought of leaving, Paul, Jean and I were not about to stay. We agreed to part ways, with B&L hanging out to wait for flights and P,J, and me hitting the road.
Drove the wrong way on a one-way through the Bronx. By the time we got to the GWB they'd closed it again...explosives in a Ryder truck in the middle of the bridge....We headed north to the Henry Hudson Bridge and were the last car they let out for the night.
Once we reached the Tappan Zee Bridge, we had no choice...we had to look down the Hudson at the city behind.
The smoke and dust and fire made for a beautiful sunset, silhouetting the city in a burst of colour. I took a picture. Never got it developed. Don't need to.
We drove through the night, taking turns at the wheel while the others called their loved ones to tell them we were okay.
Still couldn't find Tom. Had he gotten my message? Did he know I was fine? Where was he? Was he okay?
Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, Jean said it. What we'd been thinking for 15 hours. What no one wanted to say. We were supposed to be in that building. We were supposed to be in that building, only a few floors from where the plane hit. We were supposed to be there.
But we weren't.
Pulled over in Ohio to get some sleep. Turned on the tv. Saw people jumping. Saw flames. Saw planes. Saw buildings tumble. Again. And again. and again.
Called my voicemail. Tom had left me a message. He was okay. He was so glad I was safe.
Finally, I cried. And in some ways I haven't stopped.
Comments
But even knowing the little I do of the special relationship you and Tom have from your blogging exploits made this especially poignant. I'm glad it turned out the way it did for you.
I remember getting tired of hearing baby boomers telling me about where they were when JFK was assassinated. I imagine in another 20 years we'll be the same way talking about 9/11.
You told me the short version of this story when we were in NYC, I didn't realise then exactly how horrible it was.
Words cannot express how happy that I and the rest of your friends are, that you and Tom both escaped being caught in that nightmare.
I love you sweetie.
I am grateful that Tom called me before he lost service awful that day. I was able to call my parents etc. to let people know he was ok. If I had your # Mindy I would have called you too.
I guess our lives can be defined before 9-11 and after 9-11. How sad