I hate anniversaries. Especially on days commemorating mass murder and destruction of massive buildings in NYC. Anyone who lived through that day will never forget it (insert crying eagle here.) and will always ask others where they were the moment they found out that USA was under attack.
On 9/11, 2001, at about 9am, I had just sauntered into work at HarperCollins Publishers on 6th Avenue and 65th St. Upon passing the board room, I noticed people were huddled around the TV watching a movie. I thought that was weird since I didn't understand why people were so brazen as to watch an action movie in plain sight of their supervisors. But nay, soon I realized it was the WTC building on fire. My next thought was "Oops." I assumed some idiot flew a small plane into the building accidentally. I shrugged, then slunk into my office to work my mouth on the blueberry muffin and coffee I had purchased at the bodega across the street. But soon my curiosity got the best of me. My muffin and coffee had been consumed. I joined the rest of my workers to watch the drama on the news. About two minutes into watching the WTC on fire, another plane hit the other tower. Almost in unison, everyone said "Holy Shit". Then we all knew. Especially when the TV cut to the Pentagon on fire. If my jaw could have detached itself I would have let it drop to the floor, no problem. When I saw the first building crumble to the ground, I truly thought I was seeing the impossible take place. It was as if I had become pregnant. It didn't make sense.
I eventually walked home from mid-town to Queens with my co-worker Meg Areneo. I remember shuffling with the herd across the Queens bridge with thousands of others, some covered head to toe in soot and dust, everyone in a complete daze. I took a picture of the smoke in the distance but I lost the picture accidentally when I disposed of the PC that stored it upon moving back to L.A.
Happy 9/11 everyone!*
*belated
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