Inside New York City
10/20/01
This morning we decided to do it: hop on a train and ride into New York. We had to see it. We had to be there. So we got in the car, and we drove to Stratford, Connecticut, where we always catch the train. And then we rode Metro North right into Grand Central Station.
As we walked out onto the Main Concourse, this is what I saw: police officers and some National Guard troops, interspersed with travelers; a huge American flag suspended from the massive ceiling; and digital messages on their schedule boards that read: "For assistance searching for missing WTC family members, go to Pier 34."
Then outside, I noticed the quiet. In some ways, it was subtle. I mean, there were people on the streets, and there were tourists, but it was as if the volume was turned down a notch. Things almost seemed more peaceful. Not surprisingly, nearly every storefront window or façade displayed a flag or sign. A number of posters were defiant: "We Will Rebuild."
There were reminders of the World Trade Center everywhere – on postcards and framed posters for sale, and as the background on signs of so many shops.
We decided to go up in the Empire State Building, which is once again New York’s tallest building. I was not afraid. I wanted to do it. We noticed security was tight, of course. They wanted to see picture IDs, and then had us go through metal detectors.
In the waiting area, they were continuously running a special "virtual reality" ride through the city. Again and again we saw the towers illuminated at night, then by the sun, as a backdrop to the Brooklyn Bridge. I heard two women arguing nearby: "Well, I think they HAVE to rebuild it!"
So we got in elevators and headed up 86 floors to the top. The Empire State Building is nothing like the Sears Tower (it’s hard to believe we were there just 3 ½ months ago). It’s old, it’s classy, it’s almost creaky. We liked it.
There were all of these framed pictures of new York in one of the waiting area. One of them was from a vantage point looking almost straight up at the World Trade Center. But just in front is a sculpture and sign that said, "Peace on Earth."
On the top of the building, we went out into the air and looked all around, at all of the miles of buildings and bridges and people. It was sunny and windy up there. Looking south where the World Trace Center once stood, there was an open space in the skyline, from which smoke was still rising.
We heard a plane go overhead and both started a bit. I stared up at it, almost in wonder, and watched as it flew above and away from the city. For a moment, I felt afraid. But not terrified. And it felt good not to feel terrified. But still, I think we both felt it was time to go down.
Back out on the streets, we decided to do it. We had to get to "Ground Zero." We didn’t want to be macabre or voyeurs or in the way. We wanted to be sensitive. But we still wanted to be there. So for the first time, we walked underground and decided to learn how to ride the New York City subway.
In the subway there were all sorts of updates plastered up about new routes or replaced routes, or which areas would be closed indefinitely. But most of them were dated nearly a month ago. The new reality slowly begins to sink in.
We came up much closer to the Financial District. Neither Dan nor I had ever been to this part of the city before. We walked for a bit, and then came upon an intersection where the cars were stopped and turned either right or left. Straight ahead, the street was empty, a ghost town, blocked by police officers and National Guardsmen. They let in pedestrians, though. About then I began to feel uncomfortable and a little guilty. But we kept walking. I began to taste and smell something different in the air. I’ve never smelled anything like it. It was in some ways electrical but also stale. I’ve never smelled decay or death, so I don’t know if it was that. But somehow I’m afraid it was.
We came to this place where there were just swarms of people. All of the roads to our right, or west, were blocked by barriers that were guarded. Very quickly we saw why. A block or two beyond those barriers was the rubble.
I didn’t even get an up close view, but just seeing the site in person was shocking. I don’t even know where to begin. It was smoking, for God’s sake, 5 ½ weeks later. Buildings near the site were in bad shape. One looked like just a shell of a building, all black with all of the windows blown out. Another mini-skyscraper had either one side partially peeling off or had pieces of the World Trade Center embedded in one side. I couldn’t quite tell, but whatever the case, it was horrifying. From one of the viewpoints you can see a maybe 10 or 15 story high mound of rubble. The pile was nothing but twisted steel and broken concrete and dust and wires and more wires. I tried not to get a picture in my mind of all the people entombed in there. There were other buildings nearby draped over with something like huge black cloth, as if it was some kind of protectant from all the cranes and other recovery activities going on. The cranes were moving and working, and I could see an NBC news camera trained on them, bouncing back the live images we always see.
Then there was the dust. It was still everywhere. You could see it resting in window sills and door frames and in a million other places. Some skyscrapers had window washers getting rid of the grime. In other places, it had just settled like dirty snow. I ran my hand along the sides of a building and stared at the dust on my finger. I had this horrible thought that it was little pieces of people, ground down and fluttering all over the city. But in some ways it’s true. That’s the most awful part of it all.
There were signs, cards, letters, pictures, flowers and other messages just everywhere. They were taped on buildings and strung to the road barriers. I saw a banner from Springfield’s North End Community Center. There were notes from all over the country and around the world. Children had colored pictures; there were poems and condolence letters. Everywhere people were standing and staring, taking pictures or video, speaking quietly, fighting back tears. I saw a woman about my age turn to the man with her and hug him. They stood there in the middle of everything, just holding each other.
At one spot was a woman dressed like the Statue of Liberty. I guess she’s been doing this for years. And near her a man played "America the Beautiful" and "My Country Tis of Thee" on a flute. Right across the street was a church. Before September 11, the twin towers used to rise far above the steeple, dwarfing it as they did everything else. I kept looking up at the sky at all the empty space. The sky was so blue. I tried to imagine what the buildings looked like there. As I said, me and Dan had never been to this part of New York. It must be so much worse if you can remember.
I stood there and thought, "This is where it happened." All of the people in these buildings I see heard a big boom. They looked out and saw smoke. Then they heard another boom. At some point they went outside. Then one by one the buildings crumbled and they ran. The street we were standing on had been enveloped by those massive clouds of dust that turned the day to night. In a small way, that was comforting. Many of the businesses were up and running once again, albeit with signs that said, "Sale – Goods Damaged in WTC Disaster." And we noticed some people wearing masks for all of that junk that still permeated the air.
We walked down to catch a glimpse of Wall Street and the New York Stock Exchange. The building really is incredibly close to the wreckage. I’m amazed they got it running again so quickly.
Diagnol to that building is the place where George Washington took oath as the first president. I forgot New York used to be the capital of the U.S. I keep hearing people say it’s the capital of the world. That’s why these bastards did this.
The sun was going down and our feet were tired. I stood at a barrier and took one last look at the mess. Tears were crowding my eyes and I tried to hold them there. For a moment I glanced briefly at a police officer watching the crowds. He looked me right in the eye for a second as if to say, "I know."
I thought of him watching all of these people, every day, see it for the first time.
Then we walked north and as we did the smell began to fade and then past the barriers there were all of these cars and honking horns and it was just regular New York. Behind us was hell, and it seemed sadly that they were now used to hell and were just going about their business, very organized and focused, of eventually getting rid of it.
It’s going to take so long to clean up that mess. Seeing it made me so angry. How can anyone think they can get away with such an act, or that it’s justified?!
I will never forget the smell or the dust. Or all of those National Guard troops, riding in jeeps, as if we were somewhere very far from downtown New York City. I don’t know if I’m glad I went. The whole thing seemed like a bad dream. I only knew I had to.