What did it feel like to be inside the World Trade Center at the time of the 9/11 attacks?
For reference, the North Tower (1 WTC) was hit first, at 8:46am; South Tower (2 WTC), at 9:03am.
14 Answers
Jonathan Weinberg,
Views · Featured in The Huffington Post and 3 moreFeatured in The Huffington Post, Slate, Inc, and Observer
Most Viewed Writer in World Trade Center
I arrived for work that morning on the 77th. floor of World Trade Center tower 2 (WTC2) around 8:00AM. It was a bright beautiful morning, and you could see seemingly forever out the floor to ceiling windows of the building. My company had offices on the 77th. and 78th. floors. My office was on 77 facing WTC1 (the north tower).
I was standing in the hallway outside my office talking to a co-worker, when I heard a tremendous explosion at 8:46AM. I looked into my office (office wall was floor-to-ceiling glass) and saw a gaping hole in the South side of WTC1. We had no idea what had happened. No part of the plane was visible (it had hit WTC1 from the North--the opposite side from where my office faced).
Eventually word filtered in from somewhere that it was a plane that hit the building. We didn't know whether it was a commercial jet or a private plane like a Gulfstream. It also didn't occur to me at the time that it was a terrorist attack. I just assumed it was a terrible accident.
At some point I saw people appear at the edge of the gaping hole. Smoke was pouring out, and while I don't recall seeing much in the way of flames, it was clear that there was a raging fire going on inside the building. I saw a number of people jump to their death, desperate to get away from the heat/flames.
It's hard to express what I felt at that point, because I can only describe it as shock. Your mind cannot really comprehend what is happening--almost an overload state. You see it with your eyes, but you are somehow mentally detached from it at the same time.
I called my wife to let her know what was happening. She was just walking out of Penn Station on her way to work. I quickly apprised her of the situation, and told her that within a few minutes there would probably be pandemonium as people learned what had happened. I assured her that I was OK, and my building was not impacted. I told her I'd call her again when I could.
Many of my co-workers began to leave the building immediately after the plane hit. For various reasons, I decided to stay. This was partially because I believed that it was an accident and I was in no immediate danger. I was head of technology for a financial information firm at the time. Based on what I was seeing, I figured it might be days or weeks before we could return to our offices, so there were many things I needed to attend to so that operations could be moved to an off-site location.
At some point, I left my office and took the escalator in our space up to the 78th. floor. We had a large conference room there with a projector and cable TV, so I wanted to get the news on to see what was happening. I turned on CNN. Information looked pretty sketchy, but I decided to return to 77 to inform my remaining co-workers that I had TV coverage on upstairs if they wanted to come up.
I returned to my office and decided to call my mother. A few seconds after hanging up the phone at 9:03AM, I felt a violent jolt, and then a falling sensation. I remember thinking that the building was coming down and it was the end. The impact caused the building to sway heavily. It was actually designed to sway to a certain degree as the towers have to withstand high winds on a regular basis, but this was far beyond anything I'd ever felt before.
Eventually the building stabilized. Much of the ceiling had come down, and I could feel the breeze from blown out windows on the other side of the floor. This felt oddly disconcerting since none of the windows were designed to open in the WTC.
At that point I honestly didn't know what had happened. Strangely enough, my first thought was that WTC1 somehow exploded and what we experiencing was the impact of that.
I found myself outside my office with a number of co-workers. There was tons of dust and debris in the air and the electricity was out. While I was covered in dust and other particles, I was not injured. We (about 10 of us) made our way to the stairwell on the NE side of the building.
Upon arriving at the stairwell, we ran into some people who had apparently just come down from the 78th floor. One woman had a severe laceration on her arm. While the wound was quite serious, it did not appear to be life threatening. There was some brief discussion about going up (I cannot recall why), but the injured woman or someone she was with mentioned that everyone was dead on the 78th. floor.
I later found out that United Airlines flight 175 had slammed into the southwest face of the tower, creating an impact hole that extended from the 78th to 84th floors. Apparently the conference room that I had been standing in just a few minutes before was now obliterated. Had I decided to stay up on 78 instead of returning to my office when I did, I would not be alive today.
Tragically two co-workers who I considered personal friends, took an opposite path that day, making their way from the 77th. floor to their offices on the 78th. floor just before the impact. I never saw them again.
Seemingly insignificant decisions a person made that day determined whether they lived or died. It's still something that's a bit hard to fully come to terms with.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, my wife had arrived at work at the midtown financial firm where she worked, right around the time my building was hit. The WTC towers were clearly visible from the trading floor of her firm. While we'd spoken earlier and she knew I was OK, that was before the second plane hit WTC2. She knew I was still in the building at the time, and she knew what floor I worked on, so at that point, she had no idea whether I was still alive.
Once we got into the 77th floor stairwell, I recall jet fuel pouring down the stairs. I mentioned previously I was definitely in some form of shock at that time and not thinking rationally. Having worked as a baggage handler at JFK airport for a summer (ironically for United Airlines of all companies), I knew what jet fuel smelled like. Still, I could not put one and one together and make the connection that a jetliner had just crashed into the building only a few feet above my head and split open, spilling the contents of its fuel tanks into the building core.
We slowly made our way down the 77 flights of stairs. A woman there who worked for me at the time was about 6 months pregnant, so we went slowly in order to stay with her and help her down.
At some point, I remember passing a number of firefighters heading up the stairs. They had a full set of gear on, and they looked weary and frightened, yet they continued up past us. It's hard to put into words what I feel for the firefighters who sacrificed everything that day in order to try to help others. Reverence is about as close as I can get.
Eventually we exited the stairwell and made our way into the mall connecting the WTC complex. I recall thinking that we were still alive and basically were out of danger. It was then that I saw police officers or firefighters yelling and waving at us frantically to get out of the building, and we quickened our pace.
We exited the mall in the NE corner near the Millennium hotel. We were standing on the street and it was chaos. I was with a colleague and my boss at the time. There was debris falling off the building, and my boss suggested we get out of the area.
We began walking North. We had gotten maybe 5 blocks away when we heard a large rumble and saw a massive dust cloud to the South of us from the direction we came. Word eventually filtered up through the crowd that WTC2 where my office resided, had just fallen. It was a strange and surreal experience. Thoughts flooded through my mind like, how many people just lost their life? Do I still have a job? Even a mental inventory of the things that were in my office that no longer existed.
Words with my co-workers which I cannot recall were exchanged, and I decided to set off on my own to try to get home and reach my family to let them know I was OK. I eventually walked over the Williamsburg Bridge, caught a bus in Brooklyn heading for Queens, and then flagged down a gypsy cab in Queens to take me to my home in Port Washington, Long Island.
I eventually got through to my family via phone to let them know I was safe. I also spoke with the president of the company who was down in Florida at the time. He later told me that I was speaking very quickly and not making much sense. I guess the events of the day had taken their toll on me.
I made it home a number of hours later. My mother-in-law was there with my daughters, but my wife was still trying to make her way home. I walked in and hugged my two daughters like I had never hugged them before.
The rest of the night was mostly a blur. I spent most of it on the phone trying to account for every employee in the company. It was emotionally draining, but necessary work. I think I collapsed for a couple of hours, and then was picked up by one of the guys that worked for me to head to Philadelphia where my company had a smaller office.
I recall driving down the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and passing the downtown area, seeing a massive plume of smoke still rising from the WTC site. I can only describe it as surreal.
At some point during the trip I received a phone call from a relative of an employee who had not yet been heard from. I tried to remember where and when I had last seen the person. It was one of the most difficult and emotional conversations I've ever had in my life.
We arrived in Philadelphia later that morning to ensure that we had accounted for all of our employees to the best of our ability, and then to set about the task of trying to resurrect a business that was basically in tatters.
I still had not had a chance to really process what had happened, but I realized that unless we immediately got to work, hundreds of people were going to lose their jobs.
It wasn't until later that night when I checked into my hotel, about 36 hours after it had all begun, that I had a chance to turn on the TV and watch a full account of the events. Sitting there in front of the TV, it was like a floodgate had opened, and my mind finally had a chance to deal with the tragedy and all the emotions that went with it.
I lost four friends and co-workers that day who will forever be in my heart. I try to live every day to the fullest, to honor their lives, and the lives of others who perished that day.
EDIT on 5/2/11 follows:
Yesterday Osama Bin Laden was killed in Pakistan. As a survivor of the 9/11 attack on the WTC, I'd like to personally thank the US armed forces and our intelligence community for their relentless pursuit of both Osama Bin Laden as well as other extremists who carried out acts of aggression against Americans.
As the President pointed out, the American people did not choose this fight. It came to our shores and started with the senseless slaughter of our citizens.
While nothing will ever bring back our friends and loved ones, it's a testament to the resilience and fortitude of the American people that we were finally able to gain some measure of closure following this dark event in our country's history.
We must remain vigilant, and most of all, never forget--both to honor those we lost, as well as to protect our loved ones, fellow citizens and future generations from similar tragic events.
I was standing in the hallway outside my office talking to a co-worker, when I heard a tremendous explosion at 8:46AM. I looked into my office (office wall was floor-to-ceiling glass) and saw a gaping hole in the South side of WTC1. We had no idea what had happened. No part of the plane was visible (it had hit WTC1 from the North--the opposite side from where my office faced).
Eventually word filtered in from somewhere that it was a plane that hit the building. We didn't know whether it was a commercial jet or a private plane like a Gulfstream. It also didn't occur to me at the time that it was a terrorist attack. I just assumed it was a terrible accident.
At some point I saw people appear at the edge of the gaping hole. Smoke was pouring out, and while I don't recall seeing much in the way of flames, it was clear that there was a raging fire going on inside the building. I saw a number of people jump to their death, desperate to get away from the heat/flames.
It's hard to express what I felt at that point, because I can only describe it as shock. Your mind cannot really comprehend what is happening--almost an overload state. You see it with your eyes, but you are somehow mentally detached from it at the same time.
I called my wife to let her know what was happening. She was just walking out of Penn Station on her way to work. I quickly apprised her of the situation, and told her that within a few minutes there would probably be pandemonium as people learned what had happened. I assured her that I was OK, and my building was not impacted. I told her I'd call her again when I could.
Many of my co-workers began to leave the building immediately after the plane hit. For various reasons, I decided to stay. This was partially because I believed that it was an accident and I was in no immediate danger. I was head of technology for a financial information firm at the time. Based on what I was seeing, I figured it might be days or weeks before we could return to our offices, so there were many things I needed to attend to so that operations could be moved to an off-site location.
At some point, I left my office and took the escalator in our space up to the 78th. floor. We had a large conference room there with a projector and cable TV, so I wanted to get the news on to see what was happening. I turned on CNN. Information looked pretty sketchy, but I decided to return to 77 to inform my remaining co-workers that I had TV coverage on upstairs if they wanted to come up.
I returned to my office and decided to call my mother. A few seconds after hanging up the phone at 9:03AM, I felt a violent jolt, and then a falling sensation. I remember thinking that the building was coming down and it was the end. The impact caused the building to sway heavily. It was actually designed to sway to a certain degree as the towers have to withstand high winds on a regular basis, but this was far beyond anything I'd ever felt before.
Eventually the building stabilized. Much of the ceiling had come down, and I could feel the breeze from blown out windows on the other side of the floor. This felt oddly disconcerting since none of the windows were designed to open in the WTC.
At that point I honestly didn't know what had happened. Strangely enough, my first thought was that WTC1 somehow exploded and what we experiencing was the impact of that.
I found myself outside my office with a number of co-workers. There was tons of dust and debris in the air and the electricity was out. While I was covered in dust and other particles, I was not injured. We (about 10 of us) made our way to the stairwell on the NE side of the building.
Upon arriving at the stairwell, we ran into some people who had apparently just come down from the 78th floor. One woman had a severe laceration on her arm. While the wound was quite serious, it did not appear to be life threatening. There was some brief discussion about going up (I cannot recall why), but the injured woman or someone she was with mentioned that everyone was dead on the 78th. floor.
I later found out that United Airlines flight 175 had slammed into the southwest face of the tower, creating an impact hole that extended from the 78th to 84th floors. Apparently the conference room that I had been standing in just a few minutes before was now obliterated. Had I decided to stay up on 78 instead of returning to my office when I did, I would not be alive today.
Tragically two co-workers who I considered personal friends, took an opposite path that day, making their way from the 77th. floor to their offices on the 78th. floor just before the impact. I never saw them again.
Seemingly insignificant decisions a person made that day determined whether they lived or died. It's still something that's a bit hard to fully come to terms with.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, my wife had arrived at work at the midtown financial firm where she worked, right around the time my building was hit. The WTC towers were clearly visible from the trading floor of her firm. While we'd spoken earlier and she knew I was OK, that was before the second plane hit WTC2. She knew I was still in the building at the time, and she knew what floor I worked on, so at that point, she had no idea whether I was still alive.
Once we got into the 77th floor stairwell, I recall jet fuel pouring down the stairs. I mentioned previously I was definitely in some form of shock at that time and not thinking rationally. Having worked as a baggage handler at JFK airport for a summer (ironically for United Airlines of all companies), I knew what jet fuel smelled like. Still, I could not put one and one together and make the connection that a jetliner had just crashed into the building only a few feet above my head and split open, spilling the contents of its fuel tanks into the building core.
We slowly made our way down the 77 flights of stairs. A woman there who worked for me at the time was about 6 months pregnant, so we went slowly in order to stay with her and help her down.
At some point, I remember passing a number of firefighters heading up the stairs. They had a full set of gear on, and they looked weary and frightened, yet they continued up past us. It's hard to put into words what I feel for the firefighters who sacrificed everything that day in order to try to help others. Reverence is about as close as I can get.
Eventually we exited the stairwell and made our way into the mall connecting the WTC complex. I recall thinking that we were still alive and basically were out of danger. It was then that I saw police officers or firefighters yelling and waving at us frantically to get out of the building, and we quickened our pace.
We exited the mall in the NE corner near the Millennium hotel. We were standing on the street and it was chaos. I was with a colleague and my boss at the time. There was debris falling off the building, and my boss suggested we get out of the area.
We began walking North. We had gotten maybe 5 blocks away when we heard a large rumble and saw a massive dust cloud to the South of us from the direction we came. Word eventually filtered up through the crowd that WTC2 where my office resided, had just fallen. It was a strange and surreal experience. Thoughts flooded through my mind like, how many people just lost their life? Do I still have a job? Even a mental inventory of the things that were in my office that no longer existed.
Words with my co-workers which I cannot recall were exchanged, and I decided to set off on my own to try to get home and reach my family to let them know I was OK. I eventually walked over the Williamsburg Bridge, caught a bus in Brooklyn heading for Queens, and then flagged down a gypsy cab in Queens to take me to my home in Port Washington, Long Island.
I eventually got through to my family via phone to let them know I was safe. I also spoke with the president of the company who was down in Florida at the time. He later told me that I was speaking very quickly and not making much sense. I guess the events of the day had taken their toll on me.
I made it home a number of hours later. My mother-in-law was there with my daughters, but my wife was still trying to make her way home. I walked in and hugged my two daughters like I had never hugged them before.
The rest of the night was mostly a blur. I spent most of it on the phone trying to account for every employee in the company. It was emotionally draining, but necessary work. I think I collapsed for a couple of hours, and then was picked up by one of the guys that worked for me to head to Philadelphia where my company had a smaller office.
I recall driving down the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and passing the downtown area, seeing a massive plume of smoke still rising from the WTC site. I can only describe it as surreal.
At some point during the trip I received a phone call from a relative of an employee who had not yet been heard from. I tried to remember where and when I had last seen the person. It was one of the most difficult and emotional conversations I've ever had in my life.
We arrived in Philadelphia later that morning to ensure that we had accounted for all of our employees to the best of our ability, and then to set about the task of trying to resurrect a business that was basically in tatters.
I still had not had a chance to really process what had happened, but I realized that unless we immediately got to work, hundreds of people were going to lose their jobs.
It wasn't until later that night when I checked into my hotel, about 36 hours after it had all begun, that I had a chance to turn on the TV and watch a full account of the events. Sitting there in front of the TV, it was like a floodgate had opened, and my mind finally had a chance to deal with the tragedy and all the emotions that went with it.
I lost four friends and co-workers that day who will forever be in my heart. I try to live every day to the fullest, to honor their lives, and the lives of others who perished that day.
EDIT on 5/2/11 follows:
Yesterday Osama Bin Laden was killed in Pakistan. As a survivor of the 9/11 attack on the WTC, I'd like to personally thank the US armed forces and our intelligence community for their relentless pursuit of both Osama Bin Laden as well as other extremists who carried out acts of aggression against Americans.
As the President pointed out, the American people did not choose this fight. It came to our shores and started with the senseless slaughter of our citizens.
While nothing will ever bring back our friends and loved ones, it's a testament to the resilience and fortitude of the American people that we were finally able to gain some measure of closure following this dark event in our country's history.
We must remain vigilant, and most of all, never forget--both to honor those we lost, as well as to protect our loved ones, fellow citizens and future generations from similar tragic events.
Ashton Lee,
Views · Featured in The Huffington Post · Upvoted by Bill Stein, Former Air Force Security Forces Augmentee, third-generation Law Enforcement and Kevin Shomura, 28+ years in Law Enforcement. Retired as a Senior Special Agent
I was living and working at the World Trade Center on that day, and this is what I remember.
I was a consultant at the time and my office was in Tower Two on the 43rd floor. I had a meeting that morning that was cancelled just the night before. When the first plane struck I was on the 18th floor not yet at my office, I remember looking at a nearby digital clock that read 8:46am. You could feel the building shake, and it was scary, not because the building moved but to the degree that it did. I was used to working on the higher floors of both towers and the Twin Towers were made to sway and move ever so slightly. You could sometimes feel it just a little during periods of heavy wind.
But this time it was different. This was not caused by wind it was a sudden jolt. I looked outside the window and saw what I thought was a piece of metal flying by. My heart and my mind raced. Strange to say this now but I felt VERY ALIVE, while a deep and sudden fear also crept over me.
Fear was soon replaced by a driving need to act. My body was full of adrenaline and my mind was factoring over different scenarios within what must have been a few eye blinks. I recalled seeing a cable show a few weeks back that talked about how the towers were built, their structural make up and particularly their height. I recalled the narrative saying the buildings were so tall that if they were to tip over it would hit or shake New Jersey, I don't recall the exact words but the meaning stuck with me. It became a dominant thought in my head.
I ran for the stairs. I was not the only one. I could hear someone shout that there was a fire. It became very crowded but the exit at this early time was still orderly.
A small crowd started congregating outside the Marriott WTC which was situated right between the two main towers of the World Trade Center area connecting the two buildings. People were dismayed and trying to figure out what was going on. Across the street was the Hudson River. My mind was still in worst case scenario mode; I thought if anything really happened to the buildings here it would be safer by the water than close to the buildings, and I imagined myself jumping in. To prepare myself mentally.
I looked around, people were not moving. Even worse, joggers and nearby pedestrians were heading TOWARD the buildings to see what the commotion was about. I thought, this is madness!
I shouted as loud as I could, "If this building falls it will hit New Jersey! Run!" A lady screamed. I then started running toward the waters of the Hudson alongside Northern Battery Park and others did too. I just wanted to get away far enough to assess the situation from a position of safety.
And I kept running. Looking back I could see dark smoke start to form, it wasn't a good sign. The fear came back but so did the need to act. It was still early and the mobile phone networks had not yet jammed up. I called my sister to let her know that I was ok, that she may see New York in the news but that I was not in the towers, more importantly that I loved everyone and that she should relay this message to our family members and especially my mom.
I needed to get off the island, that was my dominant thought. I headed toward Chelsea Piers, to the ferries I knew were there. Still seeing more people heading toward the commotion I yelled at them, that I just came from there and that they were headed in the wrong direction. Madness.
When I got to the ferries I ran into another friend of mine who ran over from midtown, Times Square. We were there early enough where people had not caught up with what was going on, we still had to wait in line and pay for the ferry crossing.
I was on the ferry in the Hudson River when the first tower fell... It was gut wrenching and surreal. The darkness of the smoke started to envelop the sky. People were crying, trying to call their loved ones, asking questions. A friend of mine would recall to me getting out of the subway stop for the WTC after 9am, while I was still running, he told me it was an image out of hell. He could see people jumping out of the buildings, everywhere there was a mad scramble by that time to get out. I can't fully fathom what his experience must have been like nor would I want to.
Was our country being attacked? No one knew. My friend and I decided that we needed to go somewhere far away, away from big buildings but with solid communication networks, and food supplies. His girlfriend at the time went to Yale University and I thought there was a certain degree of safety within a closed area like a university in a small town. So that became our destination. Close enough to reach yet far enough to regroup.
When we reached Jersey we found a private car. She charged us 300USD or so cash only. I went to the ATM, came back and paid. As we drove further north the skyline behind us became more and more enveloped in black smoke. It was like a scene out of a movie, that's what I was thinking. Phone lines were jammed up by this time. I would later reconnect with family and friends over email from the Yale campus. I turned on the news.
The world, our world, my own world, nothing would ever quite be the same.
I was a consultant at the time and my office was in Tower Two on the 43rd floor. I had a meeting that morning that was cancelled just the night before. When the first plane struck I was on the 18th floor not yet at my office, I remember looking at a nearby digital clock that read 8:46am. You could feel the building shake, and it was scary, not because the building moved but to the degree that it did. I was used to working on the higher floors of both towers and the Twin Towers were made to sway and move ever so slightly. You could sometimes feel it just a little during periods of heavy wind.
But this time it was different. This was not caused by wind it was a sudden jolt. I looked outside the window and saw what I thought was a piece of metal flying by. My heart and my mind raced. Strange to say this now but I felt VERY ALIVE, while a deep and sudden fear also crept over me.
Fear was soon replaced by a driving need to act. My body was full of adrenaline and my mind was factoring over different scenarios within what must have been a few eye blinks. I recalled seeing a cable show a few weeks back that talked about how the towers were built, their structural make up and particularly their height. I recalled the narrative saying the buildings were so tall that if they were to tip over it would hit or shake New Jersey, I don't recall the exact words but the meaning stuck with me. It became a dominant thought in my head.
I ran for the stairs. I was not the only one. I could hear someone shout that there was a fire. It became very crowded but the exit at this early time was still orderly.
A small crowd started congregating outside the Marriott WTC which was situated right between the two main towers of the World Trade Center area connecting the two buildings. People were dismayed and trying to figure out what was going on. Across the street was the Hudson River. My mind was still in worst case scenario mode; I thought if anything really happened to the buildings here it would be safer by the water than close to the buildings, and I imagined myself jumping in. To prepare myself mentally.
I looked around, people were not moving. Even worse, joggers and nearby pedestrians were heading TOWARD the buildings to see what the commotion was about. I thought, this is madness!
I shouted as loud as I could, "If this building falls it will hit New Jersey! Run!" A lady screamed. I then started running toward the waters of the Hudson alongside Northern Battery Park and others did too. I just wanted to get away far enough to assess the situation from a position of safety.
And I kept running. Looking back I could see dark smoke start to form, it wasn't a good sign. The fear came back but so did the need to act. It was still early and the mobile phone networks had not yet jammed up. I called my sister to let her know that I was ok, that she may see New York in the news but that I was not in the towers, more importantly that I loved everyone and that she should relay this message to our family members and especially my mom.
I needed to get off the island, that was my dominant thought. I headed toward Chelsea Piers, to the ferries I knew were there. Still seeing more people heading toward the commotion I yelled at them, that I just came from there and that they were headed in the wrong direction. Madness.
When I got to the ferries I ran into another friend of mine who ran over from midtown, Times Square. We were there early enough where people had not caught up with what was going on, we still had to wait in line and pay for the ferry crossing.
I was on the ferry in the Hudson River when the first tower fell... It was gut wrenching and surreal. The darkness of the smoke started to envelop the sky. People were crying, trying to call their loved ones, asking questions. A friend of mine would recall to me getting out of the subway stop for the WTC after 9am, while I was still running, he told me it was an image out of hell. He could see people jumping out of the buildings, everywhere there was a mad scramble by that time to get out. I can't fully fathom what his experience must have been like nor would I want to.
Was our country being attacked? No one knew. My friend and I decided that we needed to go somewhere far away, away from big buildings but with solid communication networks, and food supplies. His girlfriend at the time went to Yale University and I thought there was a certain degree of safety within a closed area like a university in a small town. So that became our destination. Close enough to reach yet far enough to regroup.
When we reached Jersey we found a private car. She charged us 300USD or so cash only. I went to the ATM, came back and paid. As we drove further north the skyline behind us became more and more enveloped in black smoke. It was like a scene out of a movie, that's what I was thinking. Phone lines were jammed up by this time. I would later reconnect with family and friends over email from the Yale campus. I turned on the news.
The world, our world, my own world, nothing would ever quite be the same.
Grace Schroeder,
Views
I had an interview on the 62nd floor of the 2nd tower at Morgan Stanley that was to begin at 9am and continue for 5 hours. At the time, I didn't live in NYC.
I got off the subway at 8:50am under the World Trade Center. People were leisurely walking toward the stairs, and suddenly turned and ran in my direction. Panicked, people were doubling up in turnstiles only to be held from climbing the stairs to the concourse.
We waited at the bottom of the stairs and heard that there was a gunfight, and then that there was a bomb. The subway platform ultimately filled to excess, and subsequent trains stopped making the stops. After 10 minutes, we were allowed to come up the stairs and told to run.
I ran, trying to remember everything because I had a sense that something monumental was happening. In hindsight, I don't remember that much. There was a Lerner's somewhere along the way. Ultimately, the group stopped running, and walked to the doors leading out of the building.
We watched paper mache shrapnel falling for a bit, looking left to right. For some reason, we simultaneously pushed open the doors and ran.
I watched the first building burning, realizing that the fire was burning DOWN (odd) and that people were probably dying — which made me choke. I heard what sounded like a missile — but was in actuality the second plane — and saw a streak as it evaporated into the second tower.
I turned to run before I saw the resulting plume — thinking that one or both of the buildings was going to kill me before I made it a block. I almost fainted at the thought of life ending as I ran down cobblestone streets in three inch heels with a paper mache suit. I ran until I believed that I was out of reach of a 100 story tower tipping over on my head.
I walked to 90th, and met my sister and her husband for lunch at Carmine's.
The experience was surreal. It was a beautiful day. People were quietly walking to get where they felt they needed to be. The rest of the day and the rest of the week, the people of New York were the loveliest people on the planet. I live here now, a block away from the new WTC, and I love it.
I've not met anyone from that day.
I got off the subway at 8:50am under the World Trade Center. People were leisurely walking toward the stairs, and suddenly turned and ran in my direction. Panicked, people were doubling up in turnstiles only to be held from climbing the stairs to the concourse.
We waited at the bottom of the stairs and heard that there was a gunfight, and then that there was a bomb. The subway platform ultimately filled to excess, and subsequent trains stopped making the stops. After 10 minutes, we were allowed to come up the stairs and told to run.
I ran, trying to remember everything because I had a sense that something monumental was happening. In hindsight, I don't remember that much. There was a Lerner's somewhere along the way. Ultimately, the group stopped running, and walked to the doors leading out of the building.
We watched paper mache shrapnel falling for a bit, looking left to right. For some reason, we simultaneously pushed open the doors and ran.
I watched the first building burning, realizing that the fire was burning DOWN (odd) and that people were probably dying — which made me choke. I heard what sounded like a missile — but was in actuality the second plane — and saw a streak as it evaporated into the second tower.
I turned to run before I saw the resulting plume — thinking that one or both of the buildings was going to kill me before I made it a block. I almost fainted at the thought of life ending as I ran down cobblestone streets in three inch heels with a paper mache suit. I ran until I believed that I was out of reach of a 100 story tower tipping over on my head.
I walked to 90th, and met my sister and her husband for lunch at Carmine's.
The experience was surreal. It was a beautiful day. People were quietly walking to get where they felt they needed to be. The rest of the day and the rest of the week, the people of New York were the loveliest people on the planet. I live here now, a block away from the new WTC, and I love it.
I've not met anyone from that day.
Ken Swift,
Views
I'm submitting this answer as respectfully as possible: read at your own risk.
The human body is a wonderful piece of equipment. No matter if you believe it was God, Intelligent Design, or just chance, we are apex predators among apex predators and all of that "fight or flight" is still within us, keeping us safe or making us accept the inevitable if we can't get out of whatever situation we're put into.
For most of the people in the immediate blast zones, and I can confirm this having worked with some people who were in the path of the aircraft that hit the Pentagon (one was burned over a good portion of his body), there might have been a moment of surprise. If they even had the time to realize what was happening, their bodies would have put so much stuff in their bloodstream that they would have just blinked out of existence. I've seen similar results in Iraq when a group of guys were setting a roadside bomb and made a mistake. One guy in particular I remember had this look of profound surprise on his face.
For those who were able to find a path out, their brains were pumping them full of everything that an Olympic athlete could only wish for on the day of competition. Their brain and limbic system would be shutting down everything not necessary for survival, to include short-term memory processing centers, while pumping the body up on adrenaline and a host of other chemicals to escape the danger. Meanwhile, the memories are being pushed into the emotional-memory core for later processing, which is why events like this can often lead to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The danger is gone, but you still find yourself feeling like the building is collapsing or that it's too tall (one guy from the Pentagon fire will not return there no matter what - they talked about moving him and he said, "there's lots of other places I can find a job"). The fear isn't rational, because it isn't in the rational part of the brain, it's deep in the part of the brain that keeps us alive through touching the hot stove, falling off our bike, and all of the trauma that we undergo throughout life as a positive learning example (maybe it was your first car accident telling you to drive more safely).
For those unable to find a way out, most probably died of fumes before the flames reached them. For those of you not used to a fireplace or a chimney, you have to imagine that the jet fuel has made its way into the center of the buildings, is flowing down, out, and around, and as it gains surface area it is also being heated and the ignition point of the liquid as it reaches the vapor point makes for multiple small "pops" as the vaporous jet fuel is searching out oxygen at the same time it continues to move deeper (lower) into the building. Rescuers reported that the bases of both towers started to show a marked increase in the draft going into the building (something you might have noticed already on tall buildings is their pressure differential when you first enter as the warm air is trying to rise in the natural chimney of the building).
The buildup of this air current was the first real warning that the buildings were coming down, and explains why red-hot pieces of steel were still being pulled out of the wreckage days after the disaster. For much the same reason that people will say: "Jet fuel can't burn hot enough to melt steel..." I will argue this: "Explain how I can get a cast-iron wood stove to glow red from burning fire wood?" It's all about the oxygen. As the temperature differential between the inside and outside of the building increased, every bit of oxygen was being pulled into the firestorm from the ground, windows that were blasted open, and this in turn increased the heat inside the core of the building, thus continuing the cycle and literally baking the water out of the concrete and causing it to crumble and thus leaving the steel to hold the entire load (upon analysis of the Pentagon, the concrete columns were found to be "baked" as well, but that building was overbuilt from the very beginning and only five stories, so the circumstances were much different).
Those people who were still within the building and faced with death by smoke, fire, or jumping were most likely making their last calls, sending messages, praying, and in the case of approximately 200, jumping rather than letting the smoke or fire get them. Throughout all of this, I imagine that acceptance of the situation came to some very quickly, to some at the end, and between holding the hands of those near them or looking out across the city and wondering what had happened (many were unaware of the aircraft impact; they only knew of a fire), they went down as best they could as the band played on.
The human body is a wonderful piece of equipment. No matter if you believe it was God, Intelligent Design, or just chance, we are apex predators among apex predators and all of that "fight or flight" is still within us, keeping us safe or making us accept the inevitable if we can't get out of whatever situation we're put into.
For most of the people in the immediate blast zones, and I can confirm this having worked with some people who were in the path of the aircraft that hit the Pentagon (one was burned over a good portion of his body), there might have been a moment of surprise. If they even had the time to realize what was happening, their bodies would have put so much stuff in their bloodstream that they would have just blinked out of existence. I've seen similar results in Iraq when a group of guys were setting a roadside bomb and made a mistake. One guy in particular I remember had this look of profound surprise on his face.
For those who were able to find a path out, their brains were pumping them full of everything that an Olympic athlete could only wish for on the day of competition. Their brain and limbic system would be shutting down everything not necessary for survival, to include short-term memory processing centers, while pumping the body up on adrenaline and a host of other chemicals to escape the danger. Meanwhile, the memories are being pushed into the emotional-memory core for later processing, which is why events like this can often lead to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The danger is gone, but you still find yourself feeling like the building is collapsing or that it's too tall (one guy from the Pentagon fire will not return there no matter what - they talked about moving him and he said, "there's lots of other places I can find a job"). The fear isn't rational, because it isn't in the rational part of the brain, it's deep in the part of the brain that keeps us alive through touching the hot stove, falling off our bike, and all of the trauma that we undergo throughout life as a positive learning example (maybe it was your first car accident telling you to drive more safely).
For those unable to find a way out, most probably died of fumes before the flames reached them. For those of you not used to a fireplace or a chimney, you have to imagine that the jet fuel has made its way into the center of the buildings, is flowing down, out, and around, and as it gains surface area it is also being heated and the ignition point of the liquid as it reaches the vapor point makes for multiple small "pops" as the vaporous jet fuel is searching out oxygen at the same time it continues to move deeper (lower) into the building. Rescuers reported that the bases of both towers started to show a marked increase in the draft going into the building (something you might have noticed already on tall buildings is their pressure differential when you first enter as the warm air is trying to rise in the natural chimney of the building).
The buildup of this air current was the first real warning that the buildings were coming down, and explains why red-hot pieces of steel were still being pulled out of the wreckage days after the disaster. For much the same reason that people will say: "Jet fuel can't burn hot enough to melt steel..." I will argue this: "Explain how I can get a cast-iron wood stove to glow red from burning fire wood?" It's all about the oxygen. As the temperature differential between the inside and outside of the building increased, every bit of oxygen was being pulled into the firestorm from the ground, windows that were blasted open, and this in turn increased the heat inside the core of the building, thus continuing the cycle and literally baking the water out of the concrete and causing it to crumble and thus leaving the steel to hold the entire load (upon analysis of the Pentagon, the concrete columns were found to be "baked" as well, but that building was overbuilt from the very beginning and only five stories, so the circumstances were much different).
Those people who were still within the building and faced with death by smoke, fire, or jumping were most likely making their last calls, sending messages, praying, and in the case of approximately 200, jumping rather than letting the smoke or fire get them. Throughout all of this, I imagine that acceptance of the situation came to some very quickly, to some at the end, and between holding the hands of those near them or looking out across the city and wondering what had happened (many were unaware of the aircraft impact; they only knew of a fire), they went down as best they could as the band played on.
Debbie Irwin,
Views
I was a few blocks away, outside of PS 234, the elementary school my two daughters attended. I had just dropped them off and was standing outside the school with my dog, Sonnet. She was pulling on the leash and acted strangely seconds before the first plane hit--her awareness clearly better than mine.
I have never ever heard a noise like the noise of that impact. It is indescribable, horrible, frightening beyond imagination. Perhaps that was the sound of the original Big Bang. Perhaps it will be the sound of the world coming to an end.
Fear gripped us all and I immediately called my husband who worked a few blocks north of there. The school's security guard was ushering everyone into the building for safety, but my husband said to grab the girls and go home.
We lived and still live on Broadway a few blocks north of the WTC.
What to do with the dog? I couldn't tie her up outside, there was pandemonium, so I brought her into the school with me-- an act in and of itself unheard of.
I raced to get Sarah, my 6 year old, from her classroom, all the kids had been in the playground and were crying in confusion and fear. Then we ran upstairs to get my 9 year old. The door to her classroom was closed, the teacher was talking calmly. I knocked and opened the door, and didn't know what to say.... It was surreal.... somehow they had not heard the sound. I didn't want to scare them all, so I just said, "I must take Emily." They would find out soon enough.
From there we ran the three blocks home, and while we ran the second plane hit. While we ran we looked and saw the horror. I saw bodies falling through the sky. Sonnet was uncontrollable-- like a pack of wild horses. Between her pulling me, and our running, and Sarah falling, and my keys dropping and my shoes coming off, and Emily 1/2 a block up ahead and my fear of losing her and the reality of being attacked, being in a war, knowing nothing and everything all at once..... Then out of nowhere a man in a suit appeared and took Sonnet so I could carry Sarah, and as we had to turn the corner to go south, the direction that everyone was running away from he thought I was mad, but that was the way to our building, and he got us safely there, and I'll never know his name or his face to be able to thank him.
There is so much more.... A friend who worked on Wall Street, escaping with her co-workers, who sought refuge in our apartment.... The suggestion to fill the bath with water just in case we would be without... The apartment shaking when the towers fell... The group of us huddled for fear the glass would shatter on us. The clear blue skies outside our 13 windows turning black as night as we were enveloped in the cloud.The man who asked to take a knife from my kitchen before he headed back out into the mayhem and the unknown. (We did not honor his request though we understood his fear and instinct to protect himself.)
Evacuated for 3 months, separated from my husband and son....We were fortunate to have another home to escape to, though we were made to feel guilty for leaving by those who stayed behind. The public school in another neighborhood took in the students from PS234 and there were 70 kids in a classroom. My husband and son were able to find an apartment in the city; Josh's school in Brooklyn was "not affected" so he continued to attend 6th grade, though it took him hours to get to and from school because of the blockades. Our neighborhood was a war zone for months and months.
The smell of fire remained for months and months. The air was contaminated for months and months and I never believed for a nanosecond the reports that the air was fine to breathe. Anyone inhaling it could feel and smell the toxins.
We were treated so lovingly by the community Upstate. We served as a conduit for their wanting to help and do good. We were embraced and we were grateful beyond words.
Fast forward to 10 years later. Our next door neighbor, who also lived in our building for over 20 years, happens to be Steve Reich, the Pulitzer Prize winning Minimalist composer. He has just written a new work that was commissioned by Carnegie Hall and the Kronos Quartet. It will have its NY Premiere at Carnegie Hall on April 30, 2011. Our stories, our voices, are part of the composition.
As are the sounds of the day, from that day, from some who are here no longer.
I cannot wait to hear the piece and at the same time I am afraid to hear it.
The scars are part of us now, but the wounds are deep-- and at the same time so close to the surface. I know what it is like to live through a war-- the trauma, the stress, the post traumatic stress. The tears, the shaking, the fear-- when a fire engine would pass, or a news story on the radio reported violence in some far away land. We are forever changed.
I have never ever heard a noise like the noise of that impact. It is indescribable, horrible, frightening beyond imagination. Perhaps that was the sound of the original Big Bang. Perhaps it will be the sound of the world coming to an end.
Fear gripped us all and I immediately called my husband who worked a few blocks north of there. The school's security guard was ushering everyone into the building for safety, but my husband said to grab the girls and go home.
We lived and still live on Broadway a few blocks north of the WTC.
What to do with the dog? I couldn't tie her up outside, there was pandemonium, so I brought her into the school with me-- an act in and of itself unheard of.
I raced to get Sarah, my 6 year old, from her classroom, all the kids had been in the playground and were crying in confusion and fear. Then we ran upstairs to get my 9 year old. The door to her classroom was closed, the teacher was talking calmly. I knocked and opened the door, and didn't know what to say.... It was surreal.... somehow they had not heard the sound. I didn't want to scare them all, so I just said, "I must take Emily." They would find out soon enough.
From there we ran the three blocks home, and while we ran the second plane hit. While we ran we looked and saw the horror. I saw bodies falling through the sky. Sonnet was uncontrollable-- like a pack of wild horses. Between her pulling me, and our running, and Sarah falling, and my keys dropping and my shoes coming off, and Emily 1/2 a block up ahead and my fear of losing her and the reality of being attacked, being in a war, knowing nothing and everything all at once..... Then out of nowhere a man in a suit appeared and took Sonnet so I could carry Sarah, and as we had to turn the corner to go south, the direction that everyone was running away from he thought I was mad, but that was the way to our building, and he got us safely there, and I'll never know his name or his face to be able to thank him.
There is so much more.... A friend who worked on Wall Street, escaping with her co-workers, who sought refuge in our apartment.... The suggestion to fill the bath with water just in case we would be without... The apartment shaking when the towers fell... The group of us huddled for fear the glass would shatter on us. The clear blue skies outside our 13 windows turning black as night as we were enveloped in the cloud.The man who asked to take a knife from my kitchen before he headed back out into the mayhem and the unknown. (We did not honor his request though we understood his fear and instinct to protect himself.)
Evacuated for 3 months, separated from my husband and son....We were fortunate to have another home to escape to, though we were made to feel guilty for leaving by those who stayed behind. The public school in another neighborhood took in the students from PS234 and there were 70 kids in a classroom. My husband and son were able to find an apartment in the city; Josh's school in Brooklyn was "not affected" so he continued to attend 6th grade, though it took him hours to get to and from school because of the blockades. Our neighborhood was a war zone for months and months.
The smell of fire remained for months and months. The air was contaminated for months and months and I never believed for a nanosecond the reports that the air was fine to breathe. Anyone inhaling it could feel and smell the toxins.
We were treated so lovingly by the community Upstate. We served as a conduit for their wanting to help and do good. We were embraced and we were grateful beyond words.
Fast forward to 10 years later. Our next door neighbor, who also lived in our building for over 20 years, happens to be Steve Reich, the Pulitzer Prize winning Minimalist composer. He has just written a new work that was commissioned by Carnegie Hall and the Kronos Quartet. It will have its NY Premiere at Carnegie Hall on April 30, 2011. Our stories, our voices, are part of the composition.
As are the sounds of the day, from that day, from some who are here no longer.
I cannot wait to hear the piece and at the same time I am afraid to hear it.
The scars are part of us now, but the wounds are deep-- and at the same time so close to the surface. I know what it is like to live through a war-- the trauma, the stress, the post traumatic stress. The tears, the shaking, the fear-- when a fire engine would pass, or a news story on the radio reported violence in some far away land. We are forever changed.
