Today's post is not movie-related. At all. It's my own experience of a day that frankly everyone has their own story about. So here is mine and it takes place ten years ago, less than a mile from the Pentagon...
I awoke Tuesday morning September 11, 2001 in the Sheraton hotel in Arlington, VA. I was there for a conference so I dressed, went downstairs to grab a quick bite, and then parked myself in the lobby. The first speaker of the day was a U.S. Department of Energy speaker I had heard a couple of times so rather than hear the same talking points again, I opened my laptop and got caught up on some work.
I wasn't there long before I heard a couple of the hotel staff talking. One of them said, "Somebody flew a plane into the Empire State Building." They also mentioned that people were watching it on the TV in the bar, so I finished what I was doing and walked down to see it for myself.
One look at the screen and I realized the building was not the Empire State Building but one of the World Trade Center towers. The image was of smoke billowing out. The sound on the television was muted so the information was somewhat limited. The people gathered around engaged in idle speculation about what happened. A fire. A bomb. A small passenger plane.
Then we saw the video of the plane flying into the tower.
At first, we thought it was a replay of image CNN had gotten from somewhere else. Then one of the people crowded next to me pointed out that both towers were smoking. A minute later the sound was on and the scope of what was happening became clear. We all stood for minutes trying to comprehend the enormity of it all.
I hurried down to the ballroom where a couple of my colleagues were listening to a speaker and filled them in on what was happening.
As I was walking between the ballroom and the bar, a sound like thunder reverberated through the lobby. A few people ran outside. I followed.
Flames and smoke were obscuring the side of the Pentagon. People around me were cursing. The emotions ran from anger and confusion to terror and horror. At first, it was unclear whether the plane had actually hit the building or crashed in front of it. It only took a few moments before the scene cleared enough to see that part of the building was gone. After some time staring numbly at what used to be the wall of the Pentagon, I went back inside.
The conference at that point was effectively over. Most people were milling around the lobby, wandering in and out of the building to view the carnage. One of my friends from another state had been on the top floor of the hotel for a session. He told me that the entire building swayed from the force of the airplane as it flew low over the hotel before hitting the Pentagon.
Another friend and I ran up to our hotel room to watch the TV and call our families. As I walked that hallway, I saw the image that more than any is burned into my brain. The door to one of the rooms to my right was open with a housekeeping cart in front of it. As I peered into the room, I saw through an almost floor-to-ceiling window the Pentagon belching black smoke. Silhouetted in front of the chaos was a maid vacuuming the floor. I often wonder what was going through her brain as she dutifully cleaned the carpet while this column of black smoke rose into the sky behind her. It remains the most incongruous image I have ever laid eyes on.
We reached my hotel room and flipped on the TV. There was another hijacked plane. Wait, maybe there were two. I tried to call my wife but could not get through. I did reach work and tell them that I was all right and asked them to call my wife.
After a few minutes of watching television, there was a commotion in the hallway. A couple of housekeepers were yelling in Spanish. We opened the door in time to see them running down the hallway toward the stairs. On a day like this, when you see people running, you assume they have information you don't have, so we ran after them.
Down on the first floor, everyone was herded into the large ballroom. Comically, with hundreds of people sitting in this massive conference room, the best they could immediately do was set up a small 27-inch television with a microphone up to its speaker. We could hear the anchors talking, but not see anything. They were still reporting two additional planes in the air. They seemed to be heading toward Washington, DC. Which is where everyone in the room was.
The organizers decided to try and get the television image onto the big presentation screen, but doing so required them to turn off the television. What followed were ten excruciating minutes of silence. No knowledge. No idea where the planes were and whether they were about to drop on our heads.
With a crackle, the sound of the anchors talking was back. A moment later the image was on the large presentation screen. They were talking about reports of a plane crashing in western PA. Confusion reigned. What happened to the planes headed to DC? The reporters had obviously cleared things up while we were in our media blackout, but it took us another half hour to piece that together.
From the moment I came down the stairs, we were not allowed to return to the upper floors. Because the hotel overlooked the Pentagon, authorities were fearful of snipers. It was both strangely comforting and horrifying that someone's job was to think that there may be snipers taking advantage of the chaos. We were confined to the first floor lobby and ballroom, and we could go out front to look at the damage if we wanted.
The next few hours are a blur in my memory. One of my colleagues collapsed from the stress. There were reports of car bombs and other attacks in DC (all of which proved false). Employees from the Naval Annex started showing up, treating the hotel as a sort of fallout shelter. Some of them had medical issues as well, though no injuries from the blast itself. I would stay in the ballroom for a bit until I couldn't take the news channel anymore, then I would walk the lobby and look at the Pentagon outside.
Wanting to do something, I suggested to the hotel that maybe the Red Cross should come by and organize an impromptu blood drive. Of course, you could not get a phone line and even if you could, the Red Cross probably had better things to do, but under the circumstances, I was desperate to do something, even something futile.
A little before three o'clock, I overheard an employee of the hotel saying they were going to start letting people back up to their rooms. I had agreed to drive some of the conference attendees, so I grabbed them and let them know they needed to be ready to go up and get their things.
When they let us up at 3:00, I was amongst the first groups to get on the elevator. I quickly packed, grabbed my car keys and my parking slip. I returned to the lobby and got my car from the valet. As I was waiting, I was joined by the rest of my party. Two people from New Hampshire, one from Arkansas. We got in the car and left the hotel behind.
The ride home to Pennsylvania provided the other image that stuck itself in my brain. The Capitol Beltway. It was empty. I don't mean light traffic. I mean there were no cars. I've never seen anything like it outside of a movie. It was like the opening of 28 Days Later. As though everyone had disappeared. The only reminder that we were not entirely alone was the rare passing car or the occasional traffic advisory sign warning us there had been a major incident in New York City and to avoid the area.
I dropped the man from Arkansas off at Dulles Airport. At that point, the information we had was that flights would resume at noon on September 12. Of course, flights actually did not resume until September 14. I do know he got back safely with his own remarkable story.
The two from New Hampshire came to my house to spend the night. I remember walking into my home and hugging my wife as though I'd been gone two years and not two days. We spent the night watching the news as NYC continued to smolder. The next day, our houseguests had secured a rental car and began to drive home to the Granite State.
I occasionally write down my recollections of that day. I don't want to forget. Hell, some days it is impossible to forget. As I was sitting at a desk 14 floors up a couple of weeks ago and the building began to sway, my first thought was not earthquake. I actually looked across the floor, half expecting to see it begin collapsing.
It's been ten years and that day has colored so much of the way I view my life. 9-11 is primarily associated with NYC and to the extent one can weigh a tragedy like this and apportion sympathy that seems absolutely right. However, my story was in Virginia outside the Pentagon and I will never forget.
My thoughts and prayers are with those we lost that day, those we've lost since in Iraq and Afghanistan, and their families. God bless.
