I heart New York

Because so much of my life is centered in Manhattan, it’s very strange to be in a city other than NYC on 9/11, much less a different country. However, the Canadian media has been covering 9/11 comprehensively since I arrived. 9/11 has historical significance, but it’s comforting to know people outside NY (and even the US) do seem to care about what NYC has been going through for the past 5 years.

I wasn’t in the World Trade Center on 9/11, nor did I lose a loved one in the attacks. So in that regard, I’m quite fortunate. However I’d be dishonest if I said that day was not a defining moment in time. 9/11 represents something to everyone, and this is my story.

9/11/01 was a quintessential Indian Summer day in NYC. When I woke up that morning, there was a crispness in the air and I figured it would be one of the last days I could get away without wearing a jacket and one of the last days I could wear open-toed shoes. So I put on a long-sleeve shirt, jeans and strappy heels.

Because I had an important Client call scheduled, I went to work before 8 am (“early”- somewhat odd for advertising). As I was working at the office, I noticed there was a voice-mail on my cell phone (which turned out to be Nora) but I couldn't access it, which was annoying. I got an email from my mom that a plane had hit the WTC, but I figured it was a little commuter jet and kept working. I heard people running through the halls (which is actually not so odd for an advertising agency). Then a co-worker stopped by my desk. She was crying and said that one of the towers collapsed. This seemed like an impossible rumor.

It was almost time for my conference call, so I headed up to the floor where the call was going to take place. At the top of the stairs, I saw people spilling out of a conference room. I pushed my way in to find out what was happening. The TV was tuned to a news channel, I recognized lower Manhattan on the screen, and then watched what was the 2nd tower falling. I was truly horrified.

I went back to my desk. Phone lines were jammed and unusable. CNN.com and other major news sites had crashed. A former co-worker who was in the UK sent me an instant message, and he told me what was being reported in Britain.

I really wanted to get out of midtown, so I started walking home. Soon the heels I was happy to wear that morning began hurting my feet. I stopped in an athletic shoe store to buy sneakers, but the credit card machine wasn't working since the phone lines were down. I went into a nail salon and they gave me some pedicure flip-flops so I could continue walking. I didn’t want to be alone... Somehow I got in touch with Sherri, and we met for lunch then went to a bar for a beer. Scores of people covered in dust were plodding up Third Avenue, having walked all the way uptown from the financial district.

The next day, Wednesday, I stayed at home and watched CNN: confusion. Thursday I went in to the office for a bit: shock. Friday I stayed home again: in a state of disbelief and a little afraid. Bush was in town Friday, and while he was at Ground Zero, fighter planes circled low over Manhattan to ward off another potential attack. That was quite possibly one of the worst sounds/feelings I've ever experienced – my apt. building was rumbling.

Very soon after 9/11, I flew to Italy for vacation and holed up in a farmhouse in Umbria for over a week. This was actually good -- no TV, no newspapers – time to decompress. However there was a lot of reality waiting for me when I returned to NY.

I’ve never seriously considered moving away from NYC. That said, the months (& even years) after 9/11 were an incredibly challenging time, and it was very difficult for me to be in NYC:

1) The heightened security was intense. National Guardsmen with machine guns were all over midtown; bomb-sniffing dogs were omnipresent; I’d usually pass 30 cops on street corners walking from the subway to my apt.; I’d wake up to the sounds of police choppers hovering over the East River; at least one day a week I’d have to walk part of the way to work because of a bomb threat. The kicker came the summer after 9/11 when I went to see the Philharmonic in Central Park. I noticed the seating was arranged differently than in the past, then realized that it was done to create paths for emergency vehicles in the event of a suicide bomber.

2) The city was openly grieving. The Upper East Side, my neighborhood at the time, lost the most people in the attacks. It seemed like every block had a least one makeshift memorial of candles & flowers for someone – a father, a sister, a neighbor who went to work that morning and didn’t come home. For a year after 9/11, the New York Times ran Portraits of Grief, profiles of those who died in the attacks.

3) The Towers were so tall, they served as a beacon. When I’d get off the subway downtown I’d always look to find the towers so I’d know where I was and where I needed to go. After 9/11, I’d become turned around when I visited Greenwich Village or Tribeca. It was sad to suddenly be lost in a city I’d lived in for several years.

The point of this very long blog entry is that 9/11 isn’t contained to a single day. The effects of what happened pervaded my NYC existence for a long time. Some mornings I did not want to get out of bed, but I always managed to keep going. Luckily I had lots of friends and acquaintances in NY who were experiencing the same thing. We got through the bad times together. And now, I love NY more than ever.

On this solemn day, I think about those who lost their lives in the WTC, and I also reflect on the strength of my fellow NYers.