In remembrance

We didn't find out until the afternoon.  We just weren't big telly watchers at the time, and our TV only got a few channels.  I normally may have been listening to NPR, but my then fiancé, now husband was asleep in my one room studio flat.  I went out into the hallway a few times and smoked a few cigarettes near the window while reading "Crime and Punishment".  My neighbours passed me a couple of times and exchanged greetings, but they didn't mention anything to me.  They probably thought there was no way I could have missed it.

We were going to go up to the college for something, so once Mr A woke, he decided to shave.  I popped on the TV and tuned it to a Canadian channel.  I saw footage of a building on fire and collapsing.  I think it was WTC 7 because there was no way I'd not know the Twin Towers.  Perhaps it was just footage of the collapse.  I remember people running and covered in dust.  The commentary was in French so I shouted to Mr A that some building in Paris must have collapsed, and it looked pretty bad.  Then I started recognising NYC.  I flipped it over to an American station, and we were horrified by what we saw.

We went out to a friend's house.  On the way we had to pass an Army depot.  The streets were absolutely deserted except for soldiers and tanks and jeeps in front of the depot.  It was really jarring and frightening.

Mr A watched the footage on our friends' cable.  I couldn't watch it.  He said they were still showing raw unedited footage at that point (even though this was hours after the collapse).  We were all just dazed and scared.

Mr A watched the footage on our friends' cable.  I couldn't watch it.  He said they were still showing raw unedited footage at that point (even though this was hours after the collapse).  We were all just dazed and scared.

I'll never forget the unedited footage of the people jumping from the building. Absolutely horrible.

I had turned in my Masters thesis the day before and was in a celabratory mood. My then boyfriend and I were in the group kitchen in our halls of residence fixing lunch or something. Another flatmate walked in with this odd look on his face and asked if we'd seen the news. We hadn't so we headed to my room where I had a small color TV. We were pretty much glued to it from that point on. I spent a lot of time trying to email family and friends who worked in the DC area. Email was the only thing working for most people.

Out of curiosity, were any of you in the US able to reach the UK by phone that day? DH and I exchanged calls first thing in the morning, when the first plane hit. I was in Boston, he was in London. But we couldn't reach each other for the rest of the day.

I've always assumed they choked down international calls, but I've never heard anyone refer to it.

I was still with my ex on the day 10 years ago.  He was re-potting or doing something with the plants out on the porch.  I had WXPN on and called him into the living room when I heard the news.  Thank goodness we didn't have TV at the time, it was enough to *hear* about what was happening to give me nightmares for some time after.  Of course I did see pictures in the papers, etc.

I had to go to work that day and while we tried to carry on like normal, customers were all stunned as we all were.  No-one had really absorbed it all yet.

I can't hate the day because a long time before Sept 11 was '9/11', it was my parents' wedding day - Sept 11, 1947...a post-war wedding day, on a Thursday, full of hope & promise & innocence.  And then they caught the train for their weekend honeymoon in the 'big city' - Kansas City.

I was 24. I was just 3 weeks in to a 3 month backpacking trip and had already been in London for a week. I remember I was desperate for more music - I'd only brought a few cassette tapes with my cheapo Walkman but I couldn't find them anywhere! I was in the Virgin Megastore in Piccadilly and the radio was talking about it. I thought was a plot of a movie, see, because in US stores, the radio was canned, not live. I remember wishing I could have afforded a CD player.

I then went back to my hostel for a late lunch. I was staying in Bayswater and jumped into the Tesco Metro on Queensway where a man was on his mobile talking about it. I was still confused, but it became clear as I stood in the queue. Everyone was talking about it.

I went to the crowded TV room of the hostel on Leinster Terrace. I quietly watched the TV. It didn't feel real. But it became super real super quick when this Kiwi bastard said, "the yanks bloody deserve it."  I was the only American there and felt I had to represent and needless to say I let him have it. I still get angry thinking about this wanker. I wonder what his memory is of today. I hope it is of me telling him off for being an ass****.

I left London a couple days later and went to Paris. The image of men with machine guns in the stations, in the streets, and reports of anti-American parties didn't bother me at first. It was the other Americans that I met who bothered me. One guy said he was cutting his trip short to go home and enlist. I asked him how many more people have to die because of this?

I still have my Evening Standard with a full front page photo of the 2nd plane hitting that I bought later that afternoon at High Street Kensington station. It's folded up in a box, ready to make a trip back to London.

I was a junior in high school in NJ and I think I heard in 3rd period physics class. I don't entirely remember what was said or at what point I heard (I think before they actually collapsed). The whole day is quite frankly a blur. My only real memories are my good friend at the time whose dad worked in the towers (and who we eventually learned died) absolutely broken down in tears in the hallway. And sitting through the rest of the day, numb. And the line of cars of parents who wanted to pick up their kids. And some of the seniors who went home for lunch to the part of town that overlooks New York Harbor and said they could see the towers burning.

We not only had to go to school the next day but teachers were instructed to not talk about it, that it was "business as usual." That was really hard to deal with, because I felt that we needed to talk about it, not to pretend it didn't happen. Ironically, my mom, who is a teacher at my high school now, was required to teach a lesson on it this past Friday. The kids she teaches were 5 years old when it happened, it's basically just a history lesson for them.

I remember that I felt so numb and confused for days afterward but also really disturbed by a lot of the "Go America" bravado that a lot of those around me voiced. It didn't seem right that we should respond to killing of civilians by killing more civilians. It was a terrible tragedy but a human one, not necessarily an American one.

I was at work in midtown. The first plane hit while I was on the subway on my way in. I didn’t know anything had happened until I got into the office and heard sobbing from one of the corner offices. The second plane hit just as I stepped in with the others who had gathered. We were on the 26th floor and had a clear view down Sixth Avenue to the World Trade Center.

When the day started, and what I’m still disturbed by today, is that morning had been spectacular -- sunny, cool and crisp, with a sharp blue sky. I remember thinking it was one of those ‘great to be alive’ kind of days. It ended being one of the very worst of days.

It’s hard to put into words the personal panic I felt that day. Seeing the buildings collapse, the feelings of loss and dread, fleeing on foot over the bridge with hundreds of thousands, not knowing if my friends and family were safe. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the people downtown and for their families.

Afterwards, a burnt stench hung over the city for days on end and remained a constant reminder of what had happened. You could turn off the TV but there seem to be no escaping the smell.

I'd been laid off that July, so I was at home.  About 10 minutes after my daughter and her friend headed off for school, the TV showed the first plane hitting the Towers.   I remember thinking, "That poor pilot probably had a heart attack, and now his or her family is going to have to listen to people threatening to sue and saying bad things about their loved one."  When I saw footage of the second plane hitting, I knew it was no accident.

Irrationally, I wanted to run down to the school and bring my daughter home.  I called the school and asked if they were closing and I should get my daughter, and they said it was business as usual there.  I left her there in hopes they'd provide a normal day's experience for her.

I remember seeing the TV coverage of these events 24/7 for 4-5 days.  I must have cried rivers.  My daughter was 11 then, and I showed her the fighter jets flying overhead, explaining to her that they were there to help us be safe. 

Two days later, the power in our apartment complex failed.  When my daughter got home from school, I told her the power was off.  She looked up, then looked at me and asked, "Are they (meaning the terrorists) coming to get us?"  I told her, "No, it's just a power failure."  I reminded her of the jets overhead and we got power back a couple hours later.   

 

I was 13, so it was the second week of 8th Grade. It was a gorgeous day in Massachusetts and I was in French class and I remember competing with other students for the "honor" or bringing something to the office because we all hated the teacher and were desperate for freedom. How stupid. We had a fire drill shortly after and then the rest of the day was spent watching the TV and then the teachers decided that all the students should write an essay during the last period discussing how we felt about what had happened and how we thought the world would change. All after school activities were cancelled. So, I went home and watched the news with my parents.

Watching all the historical footage - I remember watching all that live -

Its also amazing to hear all the stories of survivors and connections of that day and the stories of those who lost their loved ones, those rescue workers and rubble sorters who have gotten horrible cancers and side effects.    Maybe people couldn't talk about it around then or even a year or five later, but now- 10 years on, to hear their stories, their links, their one piece of fragment of a human bone of their father, the scrap of clothing...  its amazing how humans can persevere and not let such a horrible event in history, get in their way.