Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?

It was a beautiful September day.

Doesn't every September 11th story start this way?  Alas, it was.

I was on the train, on my way to work.  I worked and still work in a very tall skyscraper that was taller than the World Trade Center.  I sat with some friends who were also on their way to work in that building, but at a different company.

Our train let us off at 8:31 a.m., Chicago time.  By this time, both towers had been hit.  It was 6 minutes before the Pentagon would be hit.

We had no idea. 

Upon walking into the building, we saw lots of people leaving.  I saw another friend of mine, who shouted to me "The World Trade Center got hit by a plane, the markets are down, I'm leaving!"  She worked for a financial company.  I thought to myself, well I don't work for a financial company, so this doesn't affect me.

I walked into my lobby around 8:40.  Our receptionist was going crazy answering phones.  As I walked past, I heard her say "The Pentagon just got hit."

It took a minute for me to digest that information.  As I walked to my desk, I realized that something was very very wrong.  And that I probably shouldn't be in the building I was in.

I ran to the computer and tried to pull up CNN.  After a few tries, I got it.  I saw the towers burning.  I read the very limited information that had been gathered -- enough to that we now realized this was no accident.

I grabbed a friend and told her what was going on.  She'd be in the office since 8 a.m. and had no idea.  One of the attorneys had a tv, and we turned it on at 8:58.

At 8:59, the South Tower collapsed.

I was stunned.  I couldn't think or move.  I called my mom, who also worked in the downtown area, and begged her to leave.  She couldn't yet.

I got onto the elevator of extremely panicked people.  When I walked outside, there were people everywhere.  I started walking to the train, frantically trying to call my friends, my mom.  Cell phone signals were jammed.  People were everywhere.  Cars were stopped indefinitely because so many people were in the streets.

I made it to the train station, which was jammed with people.  I managed to get on a train, where the conductors announced we were waiting till the train had reached full capacity before we would leave.  I got the last remaining seat and began talking to the woman next to me.  She'd heard the Lincoln Memorial had been hit.

Another passenger was frantically calling her sister, who lived in New York and worked in the WTC, but she didn't know which one or which floor.

My normal 30 minute ride took an hour and 10 minutes.  I didn't care.

I got home around 11 a.m.  By that time, both towers had fallen.  The Pentagon was on fire.  And the brave passengers of Flight 93 had lost their lives but had successfully prevented the fourth target from being hit.

I turned on the TV, and watched the whole morning play out.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. 

John, who was my good friend at the time, called and said we were all meeting up at another friend's house.

So about six of us sat there, watching, staring, in disbelief.

I didn't know anyone who lost someone in the WTC attacks.  I didn't lose anyone I know.  It hit me hard, and still does.  Maybe because I work in the equivalent of what the towers would be in my city.  Maybe because I never thought I'd be alive during such a tragedy, as my parents and grandparents were.

But now I think of PJ and Maggie.  How they'll never know what the New York skyline looked like except in pictures.  How in their 5th grade history class, they'll have a whole chapter devoted to 9/11, and will be tested on it, like we were tested on the Constitution and the branches of government.  How they'll not ever know - I hope -- what it's like to not hear or see a plane fly in the sky for three days.

September 11, 2001.

We will never forget.