5 Years Later

I'm going to post this, not out of any need to re-visit that day or get closure or anything, but because I've been bombarded by media broadcasts that won't let me move those memories to the back of my mind where they belong. People who were at Pearl Harbor never had to go through weekend marathons of one of the worst fuckin' days of thier lives played over and over again.

I was there. Close enough, anyway. Too close for my tastes.

September 11th, 2001, 8:46AM. A Monday.

I'm getting off the F train at West 4th Street and heading for work at Inviva, which is on Hudson Street not too far from WTC. Close enough to see the towers looming above from 7th Avenue as I walked. I saw the smoke from the first tower, and one of the guys from Black Belt Locksmith looking up at it. I walk over and speak to him, since I gave them a lot of business with our company and felt comfortable doing it.

"What's up?"

"Some asshole flew a plane into the World Trade Center."

We both had a recollection of something like this happening before back in the 30s, when some dumbass flew thier plane into the Empire State building. It was an accident, and although tragic always seemed stupid to me. To the locksmith too, I guess.

"Stupid fuck" we laughed.

So I continued walking to work. By the time I got off on the 2nd floor and enterted the office, everyone was huddled around the television in the media room. Apparently, another plane had hit the second tower and word from Washington had come in that the Pentagon was hit as well.

Needless to say, we were fucking terrified. We didn't know how many more planes were going to hit the city, or if something else was on the way. One of the CEOs (this company is run by a husband/wife team) realized her sister was still at home in a building really close by to the towers and wanted to rush over there to get her. it took everything everybody there had to convince her not to go, since we knew either she got out or didn't.

Then the towers fell, and we really got nervous. See, it was one thing to consider splitting, another because all phones were knocked out and cell phones were useless due to high police and emergency traffic. We were cut off. We had no idea what to do next. The T.V. wasn't doing anything but relaying more horror, definately no evacuation information. They did mention all bridges were now locked down and subways shut down. So we were fucked unless we could find a way out anyway.

After a few hours and making sure the building was locked and some of the execs had managed to find someplace to go, I bailed. I was the office manager, but I didn't want anything to do with the city anymore at that time. I had just watch thousands of people running for thier lives down Hudson Street, covered in debris, along with emergency vehicles and buses carrying as many victims as they could. It was crazy.

I walked. And walked. And managed to get across the Williamsburg Bridge to Queens. Over in Queens, I found the 7 train was still running in limited shifts inside Queens, so I made the rest of the trip home on the train. At my stop, instead of going home right away, I went into the church my wife and I had taken our vows in and sat there for a while, not really praying but in shock.

The next day, I returned to the city to make sure the office was okay and to help any way I could. I found a Red Cross station to help at, but after a while there was nothing left to do for anybody and went home. Three days later, the company started trying to get tings back up and running, even though some services were still iffy and transportation was a nightmare due to military and police crackdowns.

I hated a whole lot as a result of that day for a very long time. I still do, some days. Especially days when the news has nothing better to report so they bring out the footage again, which makes me sick.

I was also in the '89 earthquake in San Francisco, but nobody brings that up anymore. A lot of people died there too. Two blackouts in this city too, one in '76 and one in '03. They were also also terrifying. But I guess those doesn't sell memorial coins or whatever.

I want some peace. Is that too much to ask?

I'm not going to speak about this anymore, not in conversations, not online, not anywhere. I'm tired of feeling helpless whenever I think about it. I'm sick of knowing we haven't done shit about, not really. Not what needs to be done, anyway.
So just cut the fucking televised memorials out, okay? Those of us who were there hate them, especially when some elected official shows up to give a pep talk. For some of us - maybe many of us - this shit's just too much to keep digging up.

I will never forget. I can't forget.

That's all.

Happy 9/11.