I'm alive. Please Don't Step on Me
Most days I leave my apartment on Twelfth Street around 8:45 a.m. and take the subway to the World Trade Center stop. On Sept. 11 I was late because I voted in the local primary.
When I emerged from the polling station at Sixth Avenue and 11th Street, a crowd of people had gathered to look at the vast hole in Tower 1. Thinking that it was a small commuter plane˜and not understanding the danger or the loss˜I continued toward my office. At Fifth Avenue, I could see fire in the South Tower. I tried unsuccessfully to call friends and my boyfriend, a New York City firefighter. I finally was able to reach my parents, and frantically explained I was okay and would call again from the office. That never happened.
I took the No. 4 train downtown and arrived about a block southeast of the WTC around 9:45 a.m. Above ground, paper and debris filled the street. My law office at Broadway and Liberty Park was evacuated. I panicked; I searched for my colleagues and finally found my boss. We waited near the subway entrance for co-workers; none came.
At 10 a.m. we decided to head home.
One last look up at the burning towers was cut short by an immense rumble. I screamed, „I think the building is coming down!‰ and started to run. My boss grabbed my arm and in seconds we felt the debris coming down upon us. I let go and tried to duck into a building. I didn‚t see my boss again that day. I remember thinking this is not really happening to me.
I entered a revolving door with a dozen others, and the door jammed. A cloud of debris, soot and smoke began to fill up the doorway, choking everyone. The soot filled our noses, mouths, eyes and ears. This caused a greater panic in the revolving door and the jam gave way. I fell face down and everyone behind me followed. Others looking for safety trampled us. I kept yelling, „I‚m alive. Please don‚t step on me.‰
When I could, I lifted my head. My lower back was injured, but I wasn‚t about to worry then. I ran over to an ATM, which was somewhat lit, and tried to survey the scene. The room was filled with smoke. Outside was dark as night and debris hung in the air. I finally caught my breath.
A security guard led us downstairs where the air was clear; we remained there for about 15 minutes. Several people were injured or had fainted. Everyone was in shock. We all just stared at each other. The air quality in the room began to deteriorate˜the second tower came down˜and a second panic scattered everyone in different directions. My group escaped to a boiler room, then to a construction area, and finally out to the street. We started to walk.
Lower Manhattan looked as if it had snowed about three inches. I ran toward the East River, stopping every few minutes to sob and ask others where to go. People ran in every direction.
I turned north. Along the way, people opened their homes and stores, offering help. They stood around cars and open apartment windows and listened to the radio. I then realized how bad things were. In Chinatown, two tourists from Belgium came to my aid and walked me home, where I would call my family and friends and learn that my boyfriend was okay.
I was lucky to be alive.
Stunned, I spent the next few hours on the telephone and watching the news. Later, friends and family encouraged me to visit nearby St. Vincent‚s Hospital. It was eerily quiet there. Doctors and nurses waited for the injured, who never came. I learned that I had suffered only a fractured tailbone.
Our office re-opened Oct. 3. We now pass through several National Guard and police checkpoints to enter. The amount of loss, both in human and economic terms, is incredible. Dozens of buildings suffered structural damage. Many stores and businesses are closed. I keep thinking that one day it will all be back, but as I stare out my office window weeks after this terrible tragedy, I realize that things will never be the same.
My broken tailbone is quickly healing, and I ran in the New York City Marathon on Nov. 4. Instead of trying to run my fastest marathon, I ran to finish and to raise money for those who were not as lucky as I was on Sept. 11.
