My 9/11 Story

It was a beautiful, crisp fall morning. I rode my bike to the Hoboken ferry with zeal as I was still in the first month of my new job. I rode across the Hudson River admiring the World Trade Center's twin towers for what would be the last time. As we crossed, I couldn't help but think how great it was to be in New York City. It was the greatest city in the world!

I stepped onto Salomon Brothers' fixed income trading floor--the same floor that Michael Lewis wrote about in Liars Poker-- to start my first day of rotations as a new Associate. The energy and buzz of the trading floor was electric. We had just finished a month of classes, and we all wanted to see the real thing. I started my day with the desk I would eventually wind up on 4 months later. To this day, many of those people are still among my closest friends.

As I made my way down the row, the news unfolded of the first plane crashing into the tower and people stared in disbelief. Huge spikes in the market were occurring as people tried to decipher what had just happened. Chaos was in full swing. As new employees, we didn't really have assigned clients or duties, so many of us went outside to see what happened just a few blocks south of us. As we stepped out into the sun, I remember thousands of pieces of paper lazily raining down from the sky. I looked at the North Tower and stared at the burning, smoky, gaping maw of a hole. In person, this hole was larger than any picture on TV could ever depict. This is when I first really felt any fear of what had just happened.

As the morning unfolded, I made my way up to midtown with 2 of my Associate Class friends. We hopped a cab with a father and son and their office assistant that were running up the street. It turns out they had escaped tower 1 just before we joined up with them. The cab driver sped up the West Side Highway and dropped as in midtown (it was as far as he was wiling to take us). We all threw money into the cab (probably around $100 for what should normally be a $10 ride, but we were all relieved that he actually stopped and that we got out of downtown). As we got out of the cab, the father, son, and their assistant hugged each other so hard with relief, that I was shocked. Such raw displays of emotion are uncommon in the city.

As we walked west into the heart of the city, we passed by some homeless men that just stared south. We looked at what they were so amazed by and couldn't believe our eyes when we saw that the twin towers had fallen. It was incomprehensible. We trudged on to find our "safe house" with equal feelings of anger and despair. At this point, I was more worried about the fact that I had been unable to get in touch with Roseann or my Mom and Dad.

We holed up at my friend's sister's office. As we struggled to all get in touch with our families, we soaked in as much news about the day that we could. We laughed about what we bought on our way. We became survivalists on our trek and bought gallons and gallons of water, nuts, and chips. (Somehow, this would have been enough to sustain us if the city went black for up to 3 days).

One of our group had actually joined the Associate Training program straight out of the FBI. Turns out he was an Arab linguist. He still had connections in the FBI and was getting information from his network. In the days after 9/11, he would leave our training program to join the Counter-Terrorism effort in NJ breaking down doors in Paterson and interrogating suspects. He would go on to action in Afghanistan in the early days. One year later, he returned to NYC and regaled me with pictures from his time in the field. Heady stuff.

About 5pm that day, things started to relax (relatively speaking), and I made my way back to Hoboken. The ferries were packed with commuters that were making their way back to their homes. The stench of electrical fires filled the air as we all stared in silence at the cloud plume hanging over downtown Manhattan. As we debarked the ferries, fire crews were on the pier hosing everybody down as the fear of asbestos contamination was on their mind.

As I walked up First Street, the length of the day bore down on me. I stopped at our neighborhood deli to grab some beer. The deli owner seemed genuinely excited to see me-- somebody coming back from the city! For weeks after, the community would mourn those that never returned. Our pizza guy would tell me a story about a month later of one of his customers that became one of his friends: a young guy (probably in his early 20s) who would stop by for pizza every night around 10pm on his way home. He would always get the same thing-- 1 regular and 1 sausage (It's odd the things you remember). That guy never stopped by again. Our pizza guy was crushed, though he never even knew the guy's name.

My Mother-in-law and sister were coincidentally visiting from the Philippines and South Carolina, so my family was not alone. I walked into our apartment and into all of their armsas they squealed with joy. They had all been huddled around the TV hoping, as millions of us were, that the first survivors were going to come out soon. As I sat down to try to relax the first time that day, I passed out with exhaustion (beer in hand, of course!) to the din of the newscasters.

I remember taking Ashley, Maddie and our dog, Noelle, for a walk with my sister, the next day. As we stared across the Hudson from Pier A Park, Hoboken, NJ, a veteran who had a bunch of American flags came up to give us a couple of flags, and I broke down in tears as the enormity of what had happened the day before sunk in. How could this happen to the United States (to us!)?! What could we do to make this right?!The days that followed (the day after, especially) were much tougher as reality sunk in.

That day is one I will surely never forget. I hope that this is true for many of us. So much time has passed since then, but the memories are still as vivid as ever. 23 years later, it is important to remember that a generation that never knew the pain and anguish of this day is growing up and will soon be young adults. These memories will never be part of the experiences that they use to view the world.

God bless you all as you reflect on where you were and what you were doing on this fateful day.