The last few minutes of the trip to Grand Central Terminal was spent traveling under the city streets. I often looked out into the darkness, catching a glimpse of other trains sparking against the rails or barely illuminated shapes that my imagination always conjured into strange creatures. What was out there? Were people living among the drips and constant rumble of the trains? I saw graffiti. Someone must be down there. The thought gave me the shivers.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. View from the Balcony at work, looking south down 5th Avenue.
As I did every day I commuted, I got up early and stood near the doorway. I wanted to be one of the first people off the train. Others joined suit. None of us wanted to be stuck behind someone fumbling with a briefcase or getting a coat off the overhead rack. We ALL had somewhere to go, NOW! The second the doors opened, people raced out the door, eager to get where they were going and get ahead of the guy next to them. I had my sneakers on. Yes, I was one of those woman who wore sneakers to the office, then changed into “work shoes” once I arrived. I could make better time, though being short, most everyone raced ahead of me, regardless of my footware.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Another view from the office taken two days after Sept. 11th. You can see part of the Empire State Bldg. If you look carefully, you'll see some smoke near the bottom of the image. That's the debris cloud from the World Trade Towers collapse.
I never liked crowds and this always made me feel slightly panicked until we got out into the very grand concourse of Grand Central, with its soaring ceiling featuring a representation of the constellations, tiny bright lights emulating stars. In the center of the concourse was the big brass ball clock that sits atop the Information Booth. It's where I first met Sam in 1993. Many People were standing in the area around the clock, as it was a familiar meeting point. Other people were racing past the folks who were waiting. There were many near collisions as people tried to navigate around the crowd. One day, I stopped walking and stood still, shut my eyes and just listened. It was rather unnerving, to say the least. I think I heard the sound of the world passing right by me.
I made it to work in good time and, as I did each morning, I dropped my heavy backpack onto my desk, changed out of my sneakers, then grabbed a few dollars and went back downstairs to the deli to get my egg sandwich on an everything bagel.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. 5th Avenue and the gateway to the dust cloud from the Towers collapse.
This was the part of the day where I could finally relax and not feel like I was having an anxiety attack. I saw some of my co-workers and said my “hello's” and “how are you doings?” Then Tony saw me. He was the cook. Tony was from Puerto Rico and was missing a few teeth. He always smiled and was cheerful, his plump cheeks glistening from standing near the stove. He asked me if I wanted “the usual” and I answered, yes. I always felt a bit special when he asked me that. We had a quick chat, then it was on to filling the next order. Tony was like a machine. He had everything sorted out and was cranking out breakfast orders in a flash. The day was getting off to a good start.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Just some of the many missing posters that papered the City for weeks after 9|11.
I went upstairs into the office. The firm I freelanced for was located in the former Tiffany Building on 37th Street at 5th Avenue. Our space, that held about 60 people, was in an open space with two-story tall ceilings. Some fancy pants architect designed it, but I hated what they did. It was VERY noisy. The floors were elevated a few inches so they could run the lines for the computers since there were no walls-other than the outer walls of the building. The floor was concrete tiles. You could NOT wear heels or they made a terrible racket. They kicked up dust and never looked clean. We sat in small partitioned spaces, some were crammed two to a desk because the company was growing and we had long since ran out of space. There were huge iconic pillars every 30 feet or so, but the ceiling, for some stupid reason, was left "as it was" originaly-so it had big holes in it and once in awhile a chunk of ceiling would crash on someone's desk. The only saving grace to the entire space was that we had two -story tall windows that wrapped two sides of the office. One of them overlooked 5th Avenue. We had a tiny balcony, too. We could watch the Columbus Day parade from there or check out the pedestrians over our lunch break.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. This always makes me sad. I just looked up the two names I can read on the posters. Giovanna and Mario's names are on the list that says they both died. Giovanna worked at Cantor Fitzgerald.
I sat down to eat and got my computer started so I could check email and see the status on some projects I was working on. A few of the guys went over to the balcony, then I started to hear a commotion. Nothing was private in that office and I wondered what was going on. I went over to the balcony and someone told me that a plane hit one of the World Trade Towers. I thought they meant a little tiny plane. I looked down 5th Avenue and sure enough, there was dark gray smoke coming out of the building. It looked like maybe a movie was being filmed, but two of the guys had scanners and were picking up the feed from them. Then someone else said that no, a BIG JET hit the World Trade tower!
So now I'm torn. Okay, this is bad but we have to do our work, so I sat back down at my desk. I started to hear sirens, lots of them. Then someone said ANOTHER jet just hit the other World Trade Tower! The first thing I said was; “we are at War.” The second thing I said to myself was that I needed to get out of the city RIGHT NOW.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. One of the memorials at Union Square.
I called my boyfriend and told him what was going on, my voice getting higher out of fear, the adrenaline kicking back into my system. He didn't seem particularly worried, as if I was being overly dramatic. I was really shocked, but he didn't get it. I said goodbye and looked around at my colleagues who were all buzzing about what was going on. I tried to call my Mother, but I couldn't get a call through on my cellphone or the landline. I walked a few feet over to the office cubby next to mine. That's where Sam was working. He was my boss. Somehow even though we broke up months before, we managed to be friendly, though our private life was something we didn't talk about. He sort of knew I was seeing someone and I was pretty sure he had a girlfriend somewhere out of state. He was the only person I really trusted in the office. As a lifelong resident of New York, Sam knew his way around.
Being on a main thoroughfare, we had firetruck after firetruck pass our windows, sirens blaring. I've never heard such a cacaphony before or since. Over the noise, the Owner of the company started to call out to us, to gather us together. We had no meeting area, so we flanked the central aisle. After everyone settled down, they told us what we already knew and said they decided to shut down the office and let us all go home. That if we lived out of the city, that we should partner up with someone who lived locally in case we ran into trouble getting out of town. I looked at Sam and I could tell that we were going to leave together. Safety in numbers, right?
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson.
I packed up my things, my head buzzing, trying to figure out what to do. Sam lived along the same rail line as I did, so we decided to make a beeline for Grand Central and catch the next train out. I looked at my worn red and white schedule and saw there was a train leaving in about 15 minutes. If we walked really fast we might just make it.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. I bent over to sign this banner, then noticed the inscription from Maryann, who was a survivor from the 48th floor. This really touched me.
Outside the office, things weren't too different, maybe a bit more chaotic. I didn't pay attention. I just wanted to go home. We got to GCT in record time. I didn't care if I was out of breath. I was on the train, we could go home now! I kept willing the doors to shut. I wanted to hear the familiar doorbell sound that indicated the doors were closed and we were going to leave. The doors shut. I heard the sound! We were going to get out!
But the train didn't move.
Then the doors opened. The conductor made an announcement. Grand Central Terminal was going to CLOSE. There would be no further train service—to get off the train immediately because they were evacuating due to a bomb threat!
Oh no! Now what do we do?
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Union Square-NYC.
Sam told me we should head north. His Mother lived on 102nd. If we walked to hear apartment, we could stay with her until there was train service again. We were on 42nd street. I dreaded the walk, but what else could we do?
We got out of GCT and that's when things changed. There was no real traffic. You could walk down the middle of the street in some places. There were people on the sidewalk openly crying. We passed about 10 people. They had formed a circle and were praying loudly, while others wept. People were on their knees, staring south, towards the Towers, crying. I tried not to panic. Then I told Sam I wanted to go south, to the Towers, to help. I knew people would need help and I didn't want to run off. He said, NO. It was too dangerous. That we could help later, not now. We needed to be away from the Towers for our own safety. We didn't know if there were more planes coming and being near the Empire State Building and GCT made us targets, too.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson.
So I told Sam we needed to get as much cash as possible. We found an ATM and loaded up. There was an electronics store nearby so I bought a portable radio and extra batteries so we had some way of getting news. Our cellphones weren't working so this was all we had. I kept thinking about my Mother. I knew she would be worrying about me and I had no way to tell her I was all right. I turned off my phone figuring I better save the battery.
We walked up to Central Park, stopping at The Plaza Hotel. I thought we should just get a room. Who knew how long we would be trapped in the city? Maybe we should just get a place to hunker down? We could get room service and watch TV. Of course, me, I wanted to feel safe and like I had a place to stay for the night. I also just wanted to be off the street. They wouldn't let us in the door. They were under lockdown. There was no way we could get them to let us pay for a room. Everything was closing down.
A street vendor was selling water so we loaded up on a few bottles. My backpack was already heavy, but I had to do something. We walked into the park and sat down on some boulders. I put the radio on loud, so other stranded people could sit with us and listen to the news. The sirens continued to blare. I sat on the boulder in stunned silence. Then, the news that one of the World Trade Towers collapsed. First I thought, well at least there is another one, but mostly I just thought of all the people that probably just died. Like so many people in NYC that day, I cried, too. We could see dark yellow smoke downtown where the Tower once stood. The city was getting hazy. A fighter jet flew over us. We HAD to get out of town somehow before they started blowing more things up.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Eric Lehrfeld died, too.
We decided to try to find a rental car agency. We walked and walked, finally finding one, but they wouldn't rent us a car. Then they told us the bridges were closed anyway, so our only option was to stay put or walk home and for me that was 90 miles away.
We kept walking north and the second Tower fell. I couldn't believe it. I was afraid to think of what was going to happen next. I just wanted to go HOME, but I had no idea IF I was ever going to go home again!
We reached 83rd street and found a cafe that was open. The Hostess said it was going to be a long wait because some of the staff worked downtown and were having a hard time getting to work. We didn't care. I was glad to sit down, even if it did end up taking 2 hours to get a meal.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson.
We got to our table and looked at the menus. It was a completely normal thing to do, but in this context it became surreal. I excused myself to go the restroom and I saw a bank of pay phones. I think I had to call my Mother collect, but the call went through. She knew what had happened and had been furiously trying to reach me. I explained about the phones being out and what had happened. I started to cry. I said I just want to go home. She said she would come get me, but I told her no- to stay put. I told her I would call her again as soon as I knew what we were going to do and not to worry. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but we never did that and I feared she wouldn't be able to say it back to me. At least we talked.
We ordered sandwiches. Sam called his Mother. He told her we'd come to her apartment after we had eaten. It was all set.
I kept listening to the radio, hoping for news that the trains would be running again soon. Just as we were about to leave, they made the announcement that the trains were going to run, but with limited service! It was almost 5pm.
We found a cab and took it north to the 125th Street Station. We climbed two flights of stairs to get to the platform. Just as we reached the top, a train pulled up. I didn't care WHERE it was going. It was leaving the city and I was getting on it-even if it went up the Hudson line to Brewster, NY when I knew my car would be 100 miles in a different direction. I didn't care. Plus, who knew if they were going to shut the trains down AGAIN soon?
We got on the train; just about the last two empty seats. Sam fell asleep almost immediately after we sat down. I was too wired and just kept looking around at the passengers and out the window. The sky was hazier than before. There was a lot of smoke covering the city.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. I have NO IDEA why someone had a CAT sitting by the memorial, but the owner was nearby.
A woman got on the train. Her expression was grim; like she just found out she had cancer. She was wearing a business suit. Then, I realized what was odd about her. Her shoes were covered in white ash. Some of it was sprinkled on her clothes. She must have been downtown. I felt so sorry for her. I wanted to give her a hug, but you just don't do that in New York City.
©2001 Robin A.F. Olson.
The train pulled out of the station. It was going to stop at EVERY stop until New Haven. It meant a very long train ride, but I didn't care. We were getting out of New York and I could go HOME. HOME. HOME.
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September 11th changed so many people's lives, including mine. After I got my car, I drove back towards the City, to Sam's apartment in Mamaroneck, NY. I was afraid for him, living so close to the city, so I offered that he could come stay with me for a few days and that he should bring his cats, Nick and Nora, too. I only had two cats, so it was no big deal.
As we drove back to his place, I saw a highway sign that was flashing a message: NEW YORK CITY IS CLOSED. That's all it said. I will never forget seeing that for the rest of my life.
Before September 11th, I had moved on from Sam. We were just friends. After September 11th, things changed. I was so disappointed in my boyfriend's reaction, even after I got home safely, that it made me take a closer look at that relationship. Over time, I came to the realization that I needed to end things and that maybe I needed to give Sam another chance.
It took a very long time for us to break off with our partners and to being again. A lot of trust had been lost over the years, but Sept. 11th helped us see each other in a different light. It gave us the fuel to try again. A few years later, Sam moved in and Nick and Nora became my kitties, too.
I also realized I couldn't work in NYC any more. I stuck it out for a few more months, but after that there was a work slowdown and they didn't call me and I didn't call them. It meant I would have to do without, but some how I would find a way to keep my home. Things are just as tough now, as they were then, but at least I have Sam in my life and I know that if tragedy should strike again, he's a person I can rely on.
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