The Night Before

The small memorial at Orange County Choppers. 

I have little recollection regarding the night before 9/11/01. I remember that the semester was just getting started and that I had class early the next morning. I know that I was preparing for a trip into the city for the ASVAB and that I was working on scheduling a meeting with the President of the college to discuss starting an ROTC partnership with Southern New Hampshire University (a partnership was later formed with MIT). I can also faintly recall hearing the sounds of the Giants’ Monday Night Football game coming from a dorm room a few feet away but there is little else that my memory possesses.

Overall, it was just another cool New England night with the biggest concern of those around me was starting off the year right and making sure that they got to class on time the following morning. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary and I went about the early morning preparing for class and taking a slow walk to the Academic Building. It really was a beautiful beginning to the day with only a few thin clouds in the sky, a light breeze coming off of the bay, and the temperature remaining crisp and comfortable.

When I walked through the doors and glanced up at the television perched in the corner I could see that something was going on but didn’t really take the time to watch and process what was transpiring. I was running a little behind getting to class but managed to get there by 8:50am, there was little else on everyone’s mind and the conversation quickly lead to an early dismissal about 5 minutes later. As I retraced my steps back through the building, I once again looked up at that same television just as the second plane struck the South Tower.

This is when we all knew that this wasn’t simply an accident and as the news and speculation streamed across the screen I quickly pulled out my cell phone and called my dad to make sure that his meeting at the World Trade Center the day before didn’t carry over into the morning. Thankfully, it seems as though I was one of the last to place a successful call as cell phone service was nearly nonexistent by the time I got back to my dorm room and turned on the news. As Peter Jennings shuffled through the information we all turned up the volume of our televisions and walked outside to try and catch our breath. And as the fighter jets screamed above our heads low enough to read the warnings on the underbelly of the planes, we could hear the reports come in that the first tower had collapsed.

The rest of the week remains absent from memory as days seemingly condensed into seconds while minutes felt like weeks. Fifteen years later and I still have those memories etched in my mind. And I am sure that fifteen years from now they will remain as vivid as they are today.  

Where Were You?

Twelve years ago today I stumbled out of bed and, without turning on my computer or the television, slowly made my way to my first Tuesday morning class. At the time, I was a student at Endicott College in Beverly, Massachusetts and the early September weather made it difficult to keep progressing in the direction of the Academic building. The walk seemed a bit unusual as there were not as many students out and about as I was expecting. That thought didn’t last for long as is it could have been explained by the simple fact that it was an early class.   

I walked into the academic building and did notice out of the corner of my eye that a building was on fire but I didn’t give it a second thought as I didn’t pay attention to the location or reports that were scrolling across the silent screen. Still groggy, I finished my morning journey and settled into a seat waiting for others to arrive. About 15 minutes later every student was accounted for and the quick picture from the television passed to the back of my mind.

The discussion was opened up as soon as the young professor entered the room. We were all a little thrown off as the majority of us had stumbled our way into the classroom paying little attention to the things happening around us. Within a few minutes we were brought up to date as to the latest theories and assumptions. We were wide awake and ready to head out the door within 15 minutes of the class starting. There was little the school could do to keep us in class.

Some students ran out the door while other stayed in their seats with a flood of thoughts running through their minds and passed their eyes. I guess you could say I was in the middle. I slowly packed my things up as I was trying to remember if my dad had an appointment in New York that day. That thought was still running through my mind as I walked down the hall and into the entryway where I looked back up at the television I had passed about 20 minutes earlier. As soon as my eyes met the screen the second plane hit.

This is what I remember seeing when I turned to look at the screen.

As soon as I saw the ring of fire wrap around the tower, I pulled my cell phone (which I had just gotten a month prior) and called home. I don’t know how but the call went through. Everyone was home, everyone was okay, and everyone was glued to the television as I could hear Peter Jennings’ voice in the background.

Once I knew my family was safe at home I started walking back to my dorm but I soon found myself not wanting to go back to my room and just sit in front of the television. Instead I made my way to the administration building, walked around the side, and sat out back looking over the water at Salem on the opposite coast. For many the planes hitting the towers is the memory that will never fade from their mind but for me that it just one of the imaged emblazoned on my gray matter. One of the other images is the fighter jet which came screaming down the coast low enough that I could see the details on the mask of the pilot.

It was at that point when the gravity of the morning truly set in and I knew it was time that I went back to my room and attempt to find out what was happening. Flipping between the channels I stopped tapping the numbers on the remote just as the camera followed the men and women falling to their deaths. While I will always remember the plane flying into the building and the jets screaming over head, I will forever be haunted by the sight of people jumping out of the windows and falling between the floating sheets of paper.

The rest of the day was a blur as friends and classmates ran from one building to another and one phone to another while trying to make sense of the day. By the time we went to sleep no one had made sense of the day and no one would. All we could do was hope that tomorrow would be better than today.