Old 9/11 Blog ~ Morning of Mass Destruction

Edited note: This is my experience of 9/11/01.  I wrote this five years later, for the blog I used to have on Myspace called 'LYD'.  Transferred it to Blogger in 2013. 

Woke up that morning in high spirits.   It was a beautiful, warm September day.  I had taken the day off in order to wait for the AC unit to be serviced. I was looking forward to a relaxing day at home.
Hubby was on his way to work, and the kiddos were at school. 

The house was deliciously clean and quiet. 

With a smile on my face and a swing to my hips, I walked out my front door to grab the paper, my dogs, Teddy and Dakotah, followed happily behind me to do their morning business. I couldn't help but admire and relish the absolutely glorious, cloudless day. 

I glanced at my cell phone, it was 8:28 a.m.  I'd already missed some calls from work and several text messages from my girlfriend, Maria.  She was freaking out over every single detail of her upcoming nuptials. It was 4 days before her wedding, and she was concerned that one of the bridesmaids was unresponsive to calls and messages.  

I'm no wedding planner, however, as her Matron of Honor, I felt it was my duty to help sort things out.  I wanted everything to go smoothly.  We were all looking forward to this wedding.  That morning, I couldn't stop thinking about how in a few more days the gang would all be together again, and my best friend would finally be married.  

Back in the house, the coffee maker was brewing. The aroma wafted throughout the kitchen and family room.  After pouring myself a cup, I sat on the tufted chair, swung my legs onto the ottoman with my paper in hand.  I picked up the remote to turn on the television, but my dogs started barking, and within a second, the doorbell rang.  It was the AC repairman.  I let him, exchanged pleasantries, explained the problem, and quickly led him out the back door to the AC Unit in the yard.  Then, I calmly went back to my chair, grabbed the remote (again), and turned on the television. 

The HBO channel came on immediately. Obviously, the last channel watched the previous night.  I ignored the movie that was playing and instead picked up my cellphone. I hit send and automatically got Maria. 

Maria was walking to the subway en route to work, she said, she was happy...the flower samples looked amazing… she finally heard from the bridesmaid …all is well…" 

Then Maria said, "I'll call you later, something's going on by the subway entrance, and there's no service in the whole city".  She also said something about being annoyed that she was probably going to be late to work.

I thought that was unfortunate, but not weird. I rode the subway in the city during my college years and survived a myriad of delays. 

My hubby was calling on the other line anyway, so I hung up with Maria and picked up hubby's call.

He seemed agitated. 

He asked me if I was watching TV.

I said no, and began to casually explain that I had just turned it on and HBO was on, blah, blah, blah...

He cut me off. His voice was strange. There was static.  He said, "I'm stuck on the bridge, I see smoke everywhere.... the radio station says one of the WTC towers is on fire... Lydia, Are you watching the news?" "I think it's a bomb again."

I nervously fumbled with the remote to find a news station. 

Hubby, very agitated now, said, "put the news on and tell me what you see!"  

I turned to a local news channel and then I heard it... 

      “A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center". 

It was 9:01 a.m. There were a few video feeds of the burning north tower and people were being interviewed.  

Now I was the one agitated.  

I told my hubby "…it's not a bomb, a plane flew into it!  I could hear that he was still speaking, but I couldn't make out anything he said because of the static, and then he cut off completely. 

I started to panic because I also couldn't get a hold of my mom or anyone from our family in Queens or Brooklyn. 

At this point,  Joe, the AC repairman, was standing by the backdoor visibly upset.  

I let him in. 

He told me that he had been speaking with his brother who was trying to leave the city, but he also lost his cell phone signal. 

I poured him some coffee.

We sat in the family room and watched the newly aired video feeds of the first plane crash in complete silence. 

We had questions.  What happened?  Was it pilot error? 

At 9:03 a.m. we watched in horror as the second plane approached and exploded into the second tower. 

We were both crying and absolutely certain we were being attacked by terrorists. 

We had been strangers, yet, quickly become comrades. Bonded in our pain and patriotism. For an hour we just sat, watched, listened, and prayed.

We heard about two more planes en route to Washington, DC.  We were terrified, imagining a slew of planes plummeting into every American city.  

We felt weak.  

How could this happen on American soil?  Who was responsible for this?!

My husband made it home and that is when we heard about the attack on the Pentagon. 

I drove to the high school and picked up my kids early. My daughter confided that she couldn't take the screaming in the building.  

The rest of the day is a blur. 

At about 10:30 p.m., I finally heard from my family in NYC.  My aunt Toni and my mom called me from landlines at home.  

They recounted a day that seemed surreal.  

My aunt Toni, a prosecutor for the City of NY, and founder of a rescue organization, (Stray from the Heart.org) had to walk all of Manhattan into Queens over the 59^th St. Bridge. She was able to phone my mom at home using a payphone. My mom met her with her car at the foot of the bridge.   They then spent the entire evening taxi-ing the elderly and the disabled to their homes. 

So many gave of themselves that day in order to make the best out of the most awful situation we'd ever lived through in our lives.  

It still hurts. 

I cannot recall how many times I gazed at those beautiful towers.  We knew so many people who worked there.  My husband worked there for a time. My mom was there the night before. She supervised a night cleaning crew in the North Tower. 

Maria's wedding went on as planned.  Somberly, of course, but it went on nonetheless. (She's now on marriage # 2, but that's another blog. :)

As our limousine drove on the BQE (Brooklyn Queens Expressway) past the Promenade Deck which is directly in front of that area, we automatically turned our heads in the direction where the towers once stood.  This was one of those awesome spots in the city where you could always get a great look at them.  

The area was still burning.   

On the morning of Saturday, September 15, 2001, the air finally got chilly. Everyone in that wedding party came to terms with the cold, hard fact that the Towers were really gone. That over two thousand people died and thousands more lost their loved ones right there. 

Yes, we'd watched the planes, the devastation, and the proud towers fall on TV  4 days prior, but it was another matter entirely, to actually SEE this blazing hole within the landscape.  

We witnessed how the thick, grayish-black smoke billowed up in the morning air and felt it enveloping us as we drove past the sacred spot where so many lives were lost. 

The stench was awful. It felt physical. Like a chokehold.  

I will never forget that smell of death, charred steel, and murky dust.

We drove by in silent reverence. There was a deep hole within our hearts.  

A collective pain that has probably never fully healed. 

Never, ever forget.