01/9/11 12:26:48 PM - Susana and I were on our morning run
around Washington Square Park when we heard the first impact.
We were out a little later than usual because we had first gone
to vote in the Democratic primary for mayor and city council.
"What was that?"
"Algo se tumbó" Something demolished,
I said, and we continued jogging. Loud, sudden noises are frequent
in New York, but this was louder than usual.
As we passed the twin statues of Washington at the base of
his arch on the north side of the park, I heard a woman talking
excitedly about a big jet that was flying too low. But it wasn't
until we had jogged around to the south side of the park that
we heard someone shouting that a jet had rammed into the World
Trade Center.
My God! Looking downtown along Thompson Street, we had a clear
view of the disaster. A great angular hole gaped across almost
the whole width of the north tower, the shape that might be made
by a plane that had dipped its left wing lower than its right.
Bright orange flames danced where the right wing had gashed.
Billowing smoke was beginning to obscure the wound on the left.
A bizarre accident? How many people might have been in those
offices? I checked my watch about 10 to 9. Maybe some people
hadn't got to the office yet? We hoped. We stared, with everybody
else, then hurried home to get binoculars.
The concierge in our building had the TV on, channel 7. We
heard that a second explosion had just ripped into the south
tower. By the time we got up to our apartment, there was no channel
7, but I could get channel 41, the Univision affiliate, because
their transmitting antenna is on top of the Empire State Building
most of the others had been on the twin towers, and were
off the air. We had always cursed the poor reception on 41, but
now we were grateful their transmitter was where it was.
Up on the roof of our building it's a little taller
than its neighbors, on 4th Street between Lafayette and Broadway
we could see clearly the fires and holes in both buildings.
Large chunks of debris kept sailing off the shattered façades,
smaller bits paper, perhaps, floated in the air. It was
awful. My Walkman radio said that the Pentagon had also been
hit. After a few minutes, we thought we'd seen all that could
be seen, and went back downstairs where we saw on the TV
that just as we'd left our observation post, the south tower
had collapsed!
This was horrible, unimaginable. We rushed up to the roof
again, using the freight elevator to get us as far as the stairs
to the highest point on the building. We looked at the mass of
billowing smoke in what otherwise was a cloudless sky, and tried
to comprehend the sudden absence of one of the two towers that
had come to be symbols of home for us. Susana and I took turns,
one with the binoculars looking through the smoke at the remaining
tower, its flames now spread to another floor, while the other
listened to the newscasters, excited and overwhelmed as we were,
but with more access to information flames in the Pentagon,
fire out of control in the north tower, reports of other hijacked
airplanes, still no news on the numbers of casualties, which
had to be immense.
Susana suddenly grabbed my arm. We stared, mouths wide open,
as the north tower fell. As the walls collapsed, a black lattice-like
frame sprang upwards for an instant before plunging. And now
there was nothing but dense, billowing smoke, black in places,
and gray, and white. Right before our eyes. How many people charred
beyond salvation?
We're still shaking.
Day
1 - The first impact | Day 2 - The city stilled | Day 3 -
A cloud and pleas |
Day
4 - Back to work |
Day
5 - A final word