I was at work when a co-worker said that a plane hit the World Trade Center. I didn’t believe it. I went outside (I work on Fifth Avenue…we had a straight view to the south toward the towers) and sure enough, black smoke billowed out. My heart sank as I realized I knew two friends who worked in that tower. Then a few minutes later, another explosion in the south tower…wasn’t sure if it was a plane or a bomb. So we all just watched. I realized that we were being attacked and tried calling my boyfriend because he was supposed to be down in the financial district that morning. The lines were all down. I was going out of my mind.
With tears streaming down my face, I continued to watch until the south tower collapsed…then the north. I went inside where the company’s owner was telling everyone to stay at work to be safe, but the said co-worker and I left to go home…as did many others. We walked past hundreds of others who decided to go home by walking as the subways were shut down, the tunnels and bridges were closed.
As we walked I felt a sick feeling inside.
I finally got home and found my boyfriend there…he was in a few blocks from the Trade Center, in the subway when the first hit, but was above when the second one hit. He said he didn’t know what was going on, but heard the explosion and began running north with all the other people. He got into the subway before it shut down and came home.
The city came to a halt the rest of the day. We went to dinner but the streets were really deserted of cars…some people wandered around.
I tried calling friends and family notifiying them that we’re OK, but it was difficult with all the phone lines out of order.
Finally, we began to relax and realize what really happened.
Later, I found out that my two friends perished…were murdered, in the first tower.