Memories of Yesterday: How A Typical Day Suddenly Turned Unusual
20 years later, I still remember being in New York on September 11th
I remember, yet can’t believe it has been 20 years since 9/11. As a New Yorker, I will never forget that day. I was a college student; and it was only the second week of my freshman year at the Fashion Institute of Technology.
It was a beautiful Tuesday morning. The weather was picture perfect on this September 11th. Bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. As I stepped off the escalator from Penn Station 7th Avenue and 33rd Street, I headed downtown to 27th Street to make my 9am class. As usual, I was early and the first to arrive. But that was cool. I’d rather be early and wait than late and rushing. The time? 8:30.
The door was locked, so I sat on the floor and waited for the professor and other students to come. Based on the prior week, it wouldn’t have been long as other commuters would start to show up shortly after my arrival. But today, that day, it was different. My wait was longer than usual. I looked at my watch. It was well pass 9am. The professor was late. And so was everyone else. I started to wonder if class was cancelled until a few people began trickling in one by one. Then two other students walked in saying, “A plane flew into the World Trade Center!”
Class was on the lower level of the building, basically the gym area. I couldn’t see or hear anything from outside. I was so unaware of the sudden and tragic events that had unfolded. But I would soon find out.
“What? A plane flew into the World Trade Center?” My initial thought was how could that happen? Was something wrong with the plane or the pilot? I thought it was an accident. But he said both towers were hit. This was intentional and probably a terrorist act. My heart dropped. I was in shock. My bewilderment now turned into fear, as school security came around and ordered everyone to evacuate the building immediately. We are under attack.
I exited the building with a few other students from class. Our voices were soon drowned out by the loud sounds of emergency vehicle sirens. We stood around for a moment, but we were told to leave campus grounds. A few of us decided to walk up 27th Street to 5th Avenue. The streets were flooded with people and bumper to bumper traffic. The time now is 10am. As I approached 5th Avenue and looked right, there it was. The most horrific sight I had ever seen. The Twin Towers on fire, smoke filling the air and now clouding the sky. I stood in awe and disbelief, eyes glued to the scene for minutes. And then it happened. I witnessed the North Tower fall, collapsing before my very own eyes. “Oh my God!,” we screamed. My classmate and I looked at each other with watery eyes.
I didn’t know what to do or where to go at this point. There was no cell phone service and trains were suspended. I felt stranded. I walked with my classmate, Stephanie back to Penn Station. People were asking when the trains will run again. We all were very anxious to get out of the city. But the Police Officer quickly reminded us that service is still shut down. Her words, “We don’t know if they are done yet.” Done yet? I heard a loud noise above. I looked up and saw F15 fighter jets grace the Manhattan skies. I look at my flip phone. Still no service. The line for the pay phone was a mile long.
Stephanie was from Jersey and needed to catch the bus from Port Authority, but we waited together. We sat near Madison Square Garden with hundreds of others waiting and observing. We saw one man in his business suit covered in dust from head to toe. We knew immediately he was caught in the aftermath. After about an hour Stephanie was able to get service on her phone. She called her family and allowed me to use her cell to call mine. Hearing my mom’s voice in that very moment meant so much more that day than it did days before. I told her I loved her and I would see her soon. I meant it.
Stephanie and I split up; she went to Port Authority and I stayed at Penn Station. She wished me well. I did the same. She told me she will not be returning to school due to the terrorizing events of that day. It was just too traumatizing. I got it. I almost questioned my enrollment. But I was so glad I was able to connect with her that day. Though, it wasn’t under the best circumstances, I was grateful we had stuck it out together.
Finally, the trains were operating. I hopped on a standing-room-only packed train, staring out the window trying to process the day. When I got home I hugged my family so tight. It was such a relief to be home in their presence. But I still felt uneasy, sad. Sad because I knew there were families who wouldn’t be hugging their loved ones again. That the “see you later" they told them that morning, didn’t happen. I was heartbroken for those families and for all the lives that were lost. That night, I cried. Prayed. And cried some more.
The days after 9/11 in New York was quiet, eerily quiet. It took a while to get back to “normal.” Things just weren’t the same. The city wasn’t it’s usual bustling, full of life self. People were still on edge. But New Yorkers are resilient. America is resilient. We pushed through…one day at a time.
9/11, that day in America taught me that life truly is precious. That every day is a gift and nothing should be taken for granted. Absolutely nothing!
