“Hey guys. Listen up. A plane has flown into the Trade Tower.”
That’s all our trainer knew that morning. That’s all anyone knew at that moment.
I had been working for Bear Stearns (London office) for about five months but we were in New York City for training during the infamous 9/11 attacks.
“You might want to call your family and tell them you are OK. There’s a pay phone in the hallway. Class is over for the day.”
In the initial 10 minutes or so, I envisioned a small, single-engine plane incident. An accident. We really didn’t know anything more. There was no TV in the room, and, at the time, mobile technology wasn’t such that we could get a news feed instantaneously like we can now. This was even before flip phones.
I didn’t have my Nokia cell phone with me for some reason. So, there I stood, third-in-line at the pay phone in the hallway. My wife was back in London or maybe Sweden (I don’t recall) and I figured the pay phone may not reach those destinations. Instead, I called my parents who were only one time zone behind me, in Oklahoma.
The two people in front of me made very quick calls to free-up the phone for those waiting behind them. I spoke to my parents, also very briefly, to say I was fine and a bit north of the incident (51st & 7th) and hung up to allow the next person to touch base with his family. My call was probably less than 1 minute long. That was the last call made from that line because no one behind me could get a line out as the whole country rushed to the phones. By then, all NYC phone lines jammed with excessive call traffic.
A few of us walked together back to the apartment building where we were staying and took the stairs to the roof. From there, we could watch the smoke billow as the buildings burned. It smelled sour, like burning plastic from an electrical fire, but more pungent. It’s not a smell one forgets. By this point, the second building had also been hit and was smoldering, but both buildings were still standing.
I stood on the roof next to my work colleague, Ariel. As an Israeli, Ariel had a better sense of what was happening than me, a farm kid from Oklahoma.
“It doesn’t make sense to attack a building like this,” I said.
“Andy, you have no idea what these people are like,” Ariel replied.
Ariel’s entire life had been infused with this kind of threat.
The visual, the smell, the seriousness and simultaneous sadness of the event made an indelible impression on me. It’s just not something you readily forget. Nor should we.
Four of us stood there in silence and just watched history unfold.1
Stocking Up on Supplies
Back down in the hallway to my temporary apartment, I suggested to one of the guys staying next door (Kevin), that in situations like this, people often rush to the grocery stores and empty the shelves. Since we were stuck in NYC for the remainder of the week without a single item in the pantry in our temporary apartments, we could potentially have nothing to eat. While I didn’t want to be the person who hoards supplies, our entire meal planning in NYC had relied on restaurants, which seemed no longer feasible. There was also no transportation out of the city for us. Where would we go anyway? There were probably no vacancy signs at every hotel as far as you might want to drive in a day.
We walked to the closest corner grocery store, a small place in the basement of a nearby building. Fortunately, it was still open (this was perhaps only a few hours after the incident). We grabbed enough cereal and random canned goods to last us a few days.
It was a quick shopping experience because I couldn’t wait to get out of that basement. There was so much confusion and lack of information, even talk that we might be at war. We had just heard the second building had collapsed and we weren’t sure which building might go down next. If a building crumbles, I figured we didn’t want to be in the basement. That was in the back of my mind while grabbing Corn Flakes from the shelf.
We were subsequently glad that we stocked up on food supplies, because nothing was open the following days. In fact, NYC pretty much cleared out as locals left. We had nowhere to go and no way to get there, except to walk. No taxis. No traffic at all really. The city just shut down.
During the following days, it was eerie to stand in Times Square with all the flashing lights from the billboards and see no traffic. Only about a dozen or so people were milling about, like us. Times Square had transformed into a ghost town.
9/11 was on a Tuesday. It was vacant and deserted until we flew out on Saturday, the first day the airport re-opened for flights.
Back to Tuesday…
Walking South, Against Foot Traffic
After securing food stock and dropping it at the apartment, I started walking toward the disaster, thinking maybe I could help, volunteer, dig, potentially donate blood, or whatever might be needed.
I walked South against the stream of tens of thousands of people walking north, like quiet zombies. Many were covered in ash and dust. More than a few were bloody. A lot of people had a certain glazed-over look in their eyes, like they had just seen something that overwhelmed their ability to process it.
I vividly remember one young man. He was still jogging, moving with the herd north, but faster than the others. His dark blue business suit was torn as was his white dress shirt underneath. He was bloody, and covered in dust, a sign of his presence at ground zero. He might have slowed to a walk if someone had told him he could. But, at that moment, he was still running on adrenaline, fear, on autopilot. I’ll never forget the blank, haunted, bewildered look on his face, like he just came from the front lines, which he had. This was a strange, almost surreal scene.
And then I began to see the plethora of “Have you seen me?” posters people began to tape to shop windows with pictures of loved ones and a phone number to call.
As I got closer to ground zero, I could see the first responders did not need to deal with civilians like me, even if the intent was to help. It was still clearly chaos. And, it turns out, they didn’t need blood donations. There really weren’t survivors. Not if they were in the building.
Returning Back to London
The flight back to London, direct from NYC, was unusually quiet. Everyone was more than a little on-edge and hyper alert as we eyed each other pre-flight.
Remember, one of the planes was taken down by the passengers and did not cause damage to a building. On our flight that day, everyone was mentally prepared to take down anyone willing to use the plane as a weapon. We had seen the outcomes on Tuesday.
It was tense as we boarded the flight.
Before we departed, the captain spoke through the intercom with a calming message. He said something like, “Given recent events, I’m asking everyone to stay seated and to keep it calm and quiet for the duration of the flight. The flight will be fine, but to ensure everyone feels safe, let’s not do anything out of the ordinary.”
I thought it was a well-delivered, reassuring pre-flight message.
Back in London
Back in London, I worked on the 44th floor of the 50-story Tower Building, the tallest building in Europe at the time, and in the new financial district at Canary Wharf.
The small London City Airport runway lined up perfectly with our building, about 3 miles (~5km) to the east. Every 5-10 minutes, a plane would take off, aimed right at us. It was very distracting to try to work and keep one eye on the oncoming planes. For the first 15 seconds or so, the planes appeared to be headed directly at our floor, at least it felt that way. I felt compelled to watch to ensure it veered off the direct-hit path.
We started calling our office the Bin Laden floor. Dark humor is strange, crude, and often not funny, except in extreme uncertain times of distress, especially following trauma. In these cases, it may be needed.
Just a few weeks later, our building thought it would be a good idea to have a fire drill… but they did not tell us it was a drill. This was a poor decision. Suddenly, the fire alarms sounded.
It’s impressive how quickly you can descend 44 floors of stairs while simultaneously trying to call your wife to potentially say goodbye. Luckily, we were unable to get a cell signal in the stairwell because it was in the innermost interior of the building surrounded by the concrete structure of the elevator shafts. At least my wife did not have to worry as I was trucking down the stairs with everyone else. Full speed, often just hitting every other step.
Lingering Effects
Even to this day, exactly 23 years later, I have what feels like a premonition of sorts before every flight I take that informs me that my flight will end tragically. I’m not a fan of premonitions. Mine are clearly misleading. So, I continue to board my flights, even if reluctantly. Thus far, they have all landed safely. Regardless of how irrational I know the premonition is, it doesn’t prevent the ominous pre-flight feeling I experience internally – echoes of 9/11 linger within me and within our nation.
That is how I experienced 9/11 within my own personal life. But more broadly, the attacks on 9/11 were a watershed moment in modern U.S. history that not only affected us individually, they profoundly impacted global consciousness with reverberations that continue to present day. The attacks prompted deep reflection and raised important philosophical questions about the world we inhabit, the human condition, the nature of violence, the fragility of life, the enduring human spirit, the power of resilience, and the delicate balance between security vs. freedom.
I originally wrote more about each of these topics, but I think this is a good place to stop and just leave it at that.
I would really like to hear your 9/11 experience in the comments. Where were you and how did you perceive the events at the time?
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FOOTNOTES:
I remember only one overwhelming thought (after nephew Clayton called asking where you were)…what building you were in? I didn’t know if it was at the WTC. Before your call, I had already called your desk in London where a colleague answered your phone assuring me you were safe. The rest of that day is a blur. After that, my biggest memory is of a very united America on 9/12 & your description of the faces you encountered that day. Then, for me, there was the flight to London out of DFW in Oct. where I remember profiling the other passengers (such a sad thought). You had warned me they would not allow much freedom of movement. Happily, our plane had a hiccup & the take off was delayed after we had boarded. Because of that, it was a very friendly flight, with a lot of moving around since passengers had become somewhat acquainted during the delay. Thanks for writing this, Andy. Most people’s reactions were from a somewhat comfortable distance spanning miles.
I remember getting the phone call in London from Judy.
-Andy is OK! Silence
-Of course he is OK! What’s going on?
Time stood still that day. The world held its breath, not knowing if permitted to lick the wounds, or anticipate another blow to the other cheek.
So many of us who were awake and alive at that time have this moment in time etched into our hearts and minds. We know where we were. We know what we were doing. The emotion and confusion that followed.
For me, it was drive……drive to get at the SOBs who did this.
The week of 9/11 was my transfer week from my old duty station to the other. And, at that time, I was transferring to a contingency operational unit to hopefully “kill” the Taliban. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen right away. I took a detour to Kuwait for the Iraq War #2. But I did eventually end up in Afghanistan thankfully just to build things. But still, 9/11 and the Afghan pullout affects me deeply. Time heals wounds. It’s unfortunate that the passage of time causes some sense of distance and forgetfulness. This is why we should always share each other’s experiences.
I was in a suburb of Kansas City working as a Controller for a publicly-traded REIT. We packaged subprime loans and sold them as MBS. Our primary counter-parties were various banks and financial institutions located in the Towers. My small office was between the CEO’s and the President’s (pure coincidence…it was a closet really). I remember the CEO yelling from his office to the President: “get in here…something happened in New York”. Then he yelled to the Office Manager: “April turn on the t.v. and then get (don’t remember the name) on the phone”. We could all tell by the tone of voice that something bad was happening. The CEO typically had a nice, midwestern calming voice. After that, it’s a bit of a blur. I remember I kept working (updating a forecast spreadsheet). I finally went out to the break room where everyone was watching a small t.v. Except April….she was at her desk on the phone trying number after number. I remember her telling the CEO she couldn’t get anyone to answer….and she tried everyone. I remember that by afternoon she was crying….because we had somehow learned that the people we worked with (people April called regularly to connect with our CEO and President) were likely on floors that had been destroyed.
And I remember being really angry. And wanting to go to war. And wanting to sign up and fight in that war. And then reminding myself….that might not be the best choice for someone with a wife and a 3 year old son.
Wow, Andy! I was expecting an insightful perspective from you regarding 9/11, but did not remember you actually experienced this up close. What a heartbreaking account of ground zero. And the days after of fear and the unknown. Some of your descriptions will stay with me and add to others I have heard over the years.
I was teaching a program at a school when it happened and will never forget the looks on the 4th graders and confusion we all profoundly felt. School was cancelled soon after, and the comfort of being at home with my husband is a distinct, lasting memory.
I vividly remember going to TGIFridays (it was truly strange times:) on 9/12 and talking with strangers in the parking lot on the way inside. We were all were in a trance, but I clearly recall the comfort and bafflement of a shared experience that cast its net so broadly.
Have you read “The Day the World Came to Town”? Guessing you have, but the book summary is the account of the 37 planes that were heading to the US, and had to be rerouted to Gander, Newfoundland, and how the residents took care of those passengers from all over the world.
Thank you for sharing your immensely profound experience!
Jenni – thank you for your comment and your continued interest in Past Midway. Also, I have not read “The Day the World Came to Town”.
Please read it when you get a chance! Deeply moving!! Then go watch the Broadway production based on the book, “Come From Away.” Not only do they present the events beautifully, but you will enjoy HOW they present it with a limited cast.
Amazing post Andy.
I had no idea you were in the area during the attack.
As someone who is too young to remember the events of that day, I believe sharing stories like this is incredibly important.
It’s how we give context for our lives, thoughts, and ideals to generations younger than us.
I was in college and watched the 2nd plane hit one of the towers on tv, in what felt like real time. Won’t ever forget that moment.
I didn’t realize that you were there. I remember that day vividly too. I was far away in Lubbock, TX but I didn’t feel safe at all. At the time I was a student at Texas Tech. Classes were cancelled. I was at a friend’s house watching the news and we were all frozen in place and numb – we were waiting to hear that more planes were crashing across the country. And I was scared for friends that were in NY. Thankfully all were physically okay but I had no words that would console them. It felt odd that the sun was shining on such a horrible day. Your post was beautifully written, as always. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Kendra.
Interesting story Andy
Wow! Just wow! That was such an insightful explanation of your experience. I’ve never met anyone who was there that day, so thankful to have read this. Thank you for sharing!
Now I’m going to read the previous post…
Andy, thank you for sharing this story – never knew about your harrowing experience. Mine is much less dramatic, but equally etched in memory.
September 11, 2001, I awoke around 8:00AM and uncharacteristically got myself dressed to head into the office for a catch-up meeting; at the time I was in month six of a six month, bi-weekly carpet-bombing series of chemotherapy sessions for Lymphoma. As a 36-year-old man, the treatment was a heavy dose of a caustic cocktail and around treatment number four, the cumulative exposure began taking its toll and I succumbed to taking a few months off to minimize stress and focus on getting well.
By early September, I had not been in the office or spoken with people from the office for months and was excited to receive a call from the President of the Company to come in for a catch-up meeting and hear about the firm’s progress.
This meeting was scheduled for September 11th and I looked forward to the day with getting a full on shower and putting on some work clothes, rather than the sweat pants, shorts and tee shirts that had been de riguer of my Summer. The weather in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania was as beautiful and blue skied, as, I would soon find out, was Manhattan.
While out on medical leave, I focused on getting healthy and was having some work done at the house and today, “Freddy” the painter was set to arrive around 9:00 AM and my plan was to get him started on the next room and then drive the twenty minutes to the office.
“Did you hear the news?” he said.
“No, what’s up?”
“Evidently some plane flew into one of the Twin Towers.”
“What?”
He didn’t have any details at that moment, and I had assumed a prop plane had somehow gone off course or the pilot had some sort of mid-air medical event; we chatted briefly, and I jumped into the car, backed out of my townhouse driveway, and headed out – excited to get just a little dose of intellectual and professional stimulation.
Pulling out of the development, I tuned in to WIP Philadelphia Sports radio; the regular morning crew, led by Angelo Cataldi was straight out of sports talk central casting and exactly what anyone would expect from Philly – tons of “aditude” with everyone talking over everyone else pontificating over head coach Andy Reid’s play calling, quarterback Donovan McNabb’s performance or the details of the defensive responses.
Today, WIP radio was imminently different. Not just in content, but more profoundly, in tone. As of this point, I had not seen anything on TV and the only information I had was “a plane flew into the Towers” from Freddy. This morning, the hosts were – serious, somber, at times silent. Something horrible had happened and it was all confirmed as they described to their listening audience what they were seeing. The focal point of my first trip to the office in months had changed.
As I arrived, colleagues were in the conference room watching what we all watched over and over again for hours – we were tuned to Ashley Banfield. After I watched the second tower descend into the holocaust of smoke and debris, I left the office and went back home watching the horror all unfold over the subsequent twenty-four hours.
Throughout my six months of chemo treatment, I would cross the street and onto a 200-foot pathway that took me into Valley Forge National Park where fresh air and reflections were always front and center. Most notable in the following days were the absence of airplane condensation tails in the sky. Will anything ever be the same? Scratch that – will anything ever be normal, again?
Twenty-three years later, your post has me writing about this for the first time ever as I sit on a plane flying back from a family wedding in Uniontown PA. During this wedding, I asked my Uncle Chuck to tell me his story as a member of a small group of the AT&T Disaster Recovery Team who drove communication vehicles across the GW Bridge, with Destroyers in the river and fully armed military soldiers stationed every 20 feet on the bridge, en route to police headquarters, two blocks from Ground Zero to reinstate communications, who were currently relying solely on two way radios. (this is a story for another day!)
September 11, 2001 was an abrupt, traumatic day. Andy, thank you for telling your story and encouraging me to do the same!
Tom – thanks for contributing this excellent comment to the blog. Much appreciated… and great to learn more of your story and perspective on this day.