I think I was trying to forget what today was; I drove into town and had lunch with my sister. The sky was clear blue, with no clouds, and it had been so warm that all the snow had melted from the front range of the Rocky Mountains. I did see a lot of flags today and made no connection whatsoever. But…

Here’s my story. I was driving into work that day. It was a clear day, with crystal blue skies. I had the radio off (often loosing patience with morning radio talk), and I was running late. (I had just had lunch with my sister the weekend before (the same sister), and had waited on her front step for half an hour before she’d showed up. I remember watching the leaves turn and the grass be green and the sky be blue. It was a pleasant wait and I remember thinking how beautiful everything was.) Then I got to work.

There was the ususal yadda yadda over the usual stuff. I opened my email. The first thing I read was from my friend Nik. Her email said something along the lines of there but for the grace of God go I. Then she included the link about the plane crashing into one of the Towers. I, thought it had been a little plane, with some stupid pilot thinking he could wow his girlfriend or something. Didn’t pay it any mind. Then the morning went on, getting darker all of a sudden as someone came over to me and told me what had happened. I don’t remember who it was or what time it was, only that Nik’s email now made sense.

You see, three weeks prior, she and I and about a thousand other people had attended a Dark Shadows convention at the World Trade Center Marriott. We stayed in that hotel, we walked around the plaza between the Towers. I bought a I Love NY magnet. We joked about going up in them to the top, we remarked about the 1993 bombing, and how narrow the staircases were, and how it would be to go down them if they were filled with smoke. We went down the escalators to the subway beneath the towers. I remember patting the North Tower and telling it I’d be back some day. My friend John, who was an early riser and had a thing for talking to strangers, had gone out on a few mornings and talked to the firemen that worked nearby. He got to know them, as well as the hotel staff. He was like that. We had a great time at this convention. Then we came home.

So, on 9/11, (between watching the office TV for all of the bad news, unable to look away) I was standing in the doorway of my friend’s office, and she looked at me, white as a sheet and said, “You were just there. You were JUST there.” And you know, I was no where near danger at that point, but I felt myself turning grey from the inside out. Then I went into the bathroom, hid myself, and cried so hard I threw up. I didn’t want anyone to see. Couldn’t stand the sympathy or the lack of understanding. You know, three weeks is a huge margin to have missed getting killed. I was totally safe, but the memories of the convention, and the sculptures in the lobby, and the nice ladies who brought us clean towels was too much to bear. Later, I called John, and he screamed at me for an hour about all the dead firemen, he was so upset. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. He did that for months, every time I called him.

I remember there being no planes in the skies for three whole days. I remember the slew of magainzes with 9/11 images on them. I remember the little strip at the bottom of the TV bringing in so much bad news, that I started to shake every time the TV was on. Then I remembered that I had a business trip planned, one of the only ones I was to take for this company. They wanted to fly me into Newark and out of Philly for a training session near Trenton, NJ. My boss asked me if I wanted to cancel, since the trip was around the first of October. I grit my teeth and said no. I called our travel agent, and she asked me the same thing. I said no, and then, without thinking who might hear, I said, I’ll be damned if I let any terrorist make me that afraid.

So, you know, I pack my bags and go to the airport. I stood in line for security for over an hour. There was a huge snaking line ahead of me. All around were military men with weapons, standing guard. It was as if we were directly under attack. For over an hour I stood there, and no one said a word. You could have heard a pin drop, and if you’ve ever been to DIA in that huge lobby they have, you’ll know how impossible that is. An hour. Perfect silence. My head ached so badly listening for the slightest sound. Then I get on the plane. I don’t even remember that flight. Not at all. It’s like I blacked the whole thing out. Then, after my training, I have to get back on the plane in Philly. It’s an early flight, that is delayed for some reason. Then I get on the plane. I’m just in my seat, when someone gets on and says we have to get off because another passenger, who had checked in, had left the plane and all his bags aboard. They had to deplane the entire plane, search it, with dogs and everything. It was ages before they let us back on. I was about as tense as I have ever been. I had ten bucks in my wallet, and though it was a morning flight, the moment the stewardess came by (we had just taken off) I asked her if they were serving beer. She said, what kind, honey? I said, Heineken. I showed her my money. She came back with two beers, patted my arm and told me to keep my money. I was so grateful. I drank those beers so fast.

 While I was in NJ, my friend Nancy, who lived in Queens, picked me up and took me to Manhattan. We went to Ground Zero. There was still smoke rising up in a curl, dust and bits of cement all over everything, and pictures of missing people plastered to the chain link fence around the hole in the ground. There were flags everywhere, and I mean everywhere. It was like the city was wallpapered with them. As we stood there, staring, unable to stop staring, there were people around us who couldn’t stop staring either. I remember a policeman saying, “Get out of the street, people. This is New York and you will get run over.” We stayed in NY all day, and then we drove uptown, right up some main avenue. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but there were at least a dozen firestations along the way. One of them, I remember clear as a bell…the car slowed down. It had gotten dark. The firestation was lit up like it was Christmas, their red firetrucks polished and shining and glittering in the light. There was a choir, everyone was holding candles. I could see the firemen on one side of the opening, the choir on the other. There was the sound of singing, the outpouring of grief, and the firemen’s faces were just blank. I don’t know how many they lost, but being in Manhattan, they lost men and women.