I woke up today sad and nostalgic. It’s been 20 years and it still feels like yesterday. The passing of time and distance will never fade my vivid memories of 9/11.
My kids are so far removed from it all.
Of course, my kids know I lived in NYC then, have heard bits and pieces and even toured the site and visited the museum.
They have and will continue to learn about 9/11 in school, through movies and even on social media. There are so many stories, but I want them to know mine.
No, I didn’t work and escape from a tower or rescue anyone. Luckily, my story wasn’t tragic and I didn’t lose anyone close to me. But I still have a story.
Maybe they will find it interesting. Either way, it’s been 20 years and writing about it on this anniversary may be the perfect way for me to acknowledge it.
So, I pushed aside everything on my to-do list and sat outside, reflected and wrote. If you want to know how I spent the day on 9/11/01 read on….
September 11, 2001
I had already been working and living in NYC for almost 10 years. I lived on the 8th floor of the Colorado, a high-rise apartment building on 86th and 3rd (UES). I was single (dating someone but not serious) and lived alone in a studio. I previously lived with my sister in another apartment in the same building. Over the years, I had become friendly with many people living and working in the building.
That morning I rode down the elevator with a few other people. I was chatting with this young, super attractive and friendly guy, Kevin, who I knew from the gym and the Hamptons. I stopped quickly in the lobby to say hello to my doormen Anthony. Kevin and I continued making small talk all the way to the 86th Street Subway and then on the downtown 4/5/6 train. At 59th street we said goodbye.
I transferred to the N/R, took it to 49th Street and then walked to my office at the Time & Life Building on 50th and Avenue of the Americas. It was just like every other day.
I worked in Advertising at PEOPLE Magazine. At the time, it was the biggest and most popular celebrity magazine around. We had a huge staff and we took up multiple floors. I rode the elevator to the 29th floor where my office was and sat down at my desk around 8:15 am. It was pretty quiet because most of my co-workers hadn’t arrived yet.
Around 8:50 am my landline rang and it was my sister. She was at her office near Grand Central, but had most recently worked in Tower 1. “A plane hit one of the Towers at the World Trade Center. It’s on fire and people are jumping from the windows,” she tells me. We just assumed it was an accident. We hung up thinking we’d talk again later that morning. Little did we know that the phones would go down right after that.
There were enough people at work now to come out of their offices when I went in the hall and called out loudly, “My sister just called and told me that a plane hit one of the towers at the World Trade Center, it’s on fire and people are jumping.” We all ran into the conference room and tuned into the large black TV set on wheels to learn more. This was before Facbook, instagram and text.
My boss pulled me aside and scolded me for creating un-needed chaos and then instructed the group of us to get back to work. After all, it was closing week for the Best and Worst Dressed issue, still one of People’s most popular and issues. Little did my boss know.
I returned to my office and called my sister. I got a fast busy signal.
Somehow, around 9 am I ended up back in the same conference room, this time with a lot more people, including my boss. In fear and shock we watched live as the second plane hit. It couldn’t be an accident, I thought.
I then realized I had been right there for a meeting with American Express the morning before. What if this happened one day earlier or my meeting was one day later? What is my sister’s office was still in that tower?
Everyone was panicked. We tried to check on friends and loved ones, but phones couldn’t get a signal. We could hear loud sirens. Then a piercing alarm sounded in our building and someone on the loud speaker announced, “emergency alert-everyone evacuate the building immediately.” I can’t remember if they told us if it was due to a terrorist attack or not.
But, we all knew we were in danger. My office was in the heart of Midtown, between Rockefeller Center and Time Square, and around many media and banking headquarters. If they were going to attack anywhere else in NYC, we were a likely target. “Move fast,” they told us.
I grabbed my stuff and ran to the elevator and they were locked shut. Hundreds of us were in the stair escape. I walked down 29 flights of stairs, single file, in the dark, terrified. The whole time the alarms sounding. People screaming and crying. It felt like forever.
To this day, many of my People co-workers are close friends like family to me. But that day, as soon as we got outside, we all went our own ways and got lost in a massive group of people. Once we said goodbye there was no way to be in contact.
When we got outside firetrucks and police cars from every direction were heading downtown. The subways and buses were shut down. The streets were filled with a sea of business professionals of all ages walking towards safety. The city was in complete lock down. The bridges, subways and airports were all out and people were stranded everywhere.
I didn’t want to go home alone. I couldn’t reach my sister.
I walked across and uptown from my office with my friend Susan Goldfarb toward her apartment on 70th and 1st. Karen Rooney and someone else from People were with us too, but I can’t remember who right now.
It was the most beautiful Fall day. Sunny. Not a cloud in the bright blue sky.
We walked in our nice work shoes with blisters and sore feet (nothing to complain about considering what was happening to people a few miles below us).
We got to Susan’s apartment building and learned about the Pentagon. We couldn’t get through to any of our family or friends. We had the TV on and watched the live coverage in horror.
I began to think about everyone I knew who worked downtown.
At some point, I left Susan’s and walked uptown to my apartment. I still hadn’t connected with my sister or parents or anyone for that matter.
When I got outside, besides the piercing sirens, I saw huge clouds of dark smoke and inhaled the worst smell ever. Imagine burning bodies, computers, glass. I will never forget that smell. All of these things lasted for days… months.
My boyfriend at the time made it out alive and managed to walk all the way uptown to his nearby apartment. I ate dinner with him and then finally connected with my parents. At this point, I knew my sister was safe, but didn’t know where she was.
That night I went to bed in a different NYC and world. There was a sadness and fear inside me and in everyone around me. And who knew what was to come.
Luckily, my closest friends were all ok. But it didn’t take long to find out who wasn’t. My neighbor Kevin who I commuted with that morning never came home that night, my friend Tom, a father of 4 young boys, Todd Pelino, from my high school, my friend Jason who lived in my dorm sophomore year. My childhood friend, Kristin Galusha, who lost, Michael, the love of her life and father of her new born baby. All the firefighters on my block. I could go on and on…so heart breaking
I was sad and scared.
The one thing that gave me hope was how all the people of the city came together. The unity of all different types of people was so powerful. It’s what helped NYC to stay strong and survive.
Although 20 years have passed, when I see live footage the feelings, the smoke, the smell everything comes right back to me.Time will never heal that terrifying day and all of the horror and pain it caused for so many.
So, for whatever it’s worth, that’s my 9/11 story. There was a lot more in the days and months that followed, but that’s all for now.
My heart still aches for those touched more directly by this horrible tragedy.
We must all never forget and every story, no matter how insignificant, must continue to live on.
