WTC Disaster
Tuesday 11th September, 2001.
My son Ishmael and his wife Sharon were scheduled to cover Skids Express' (our courier company) assignments this morning, but for no particular reason I decided to go in myself.
The following is a brief account of the day's tragic events from my perspective.
5:30 am... I left home on Staten Island, New York and drove to our base at Scott Printing Corp. in New Providence, New Jersey, arriving there at 6.15 am.
Altogether this morning, I had four deliveries for Manhattan, to be completed in the following order:
Sandler O'neil, 2 World Trade Center (Natalie Kidd, 104th floor), Scott Printing, 55 Broadway (3rd floor), S. G. Cowen, 1 Financial Square (25th floor mailroom) and Bear Stearns, 245 Park Avenue (1st, 9th, 12th and 14th floors).
6:45 am.... I was ready to leave New Providence but was delayed by Jody Swarz who wanted to add some items to the Bear Stearns delivery.
7:20 am... I finally left Scott Printing in New Providence.
7:25 am... I stopped at the bagel store in the New Providence Post Office shopping plaza for a bagel and coffee and left there at about 7:35am.
8:45am... I was 4 vehicles from the Holland Tunnel toll booths when the first plane crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. I didn't see the crash. My attention was drawn to it by a Port Authority police officer, sitting in a police car, in the lane next to me. He'd seen the crash and was waving and shouting and pointing. Everything came to a standstill as people, including myself, sat dumb-struck by the sight of the gaping hole at the side of the tower, about twenty stories from the top. Thick, black smoke and orange flames billowed upwards, engulfing the upper floors.
8:48 am... Assuming that it was an accident, I called Dominic Lavalle at Scott Printing and informed him of the crash.
8:50 am... I called home and informed Ishmael about the crash, and told him to turn on the television. My call home was interrupted by flashing lights and blaring sirens as a flood of emergency vehicles began rushing towards the tunnel. Those of us whose vehicles were in the way were signaled to speed through the tunnel ahead of them.
8:55 am... I emerged from the tunnel into Manhattan. There were already thousands of people along the sidewalks, staring up at the burning tower. I couldn't stop my vehicle because police were signaling me to keep moving. I was forced along some back streets until I was able to pull aside on West Broadway near Duane Street.
9:02 am... I got out of my vehicle and joined the crowds staring up at the smoke and fire. In typical New York style, a kind of carnival atmosphere was quickly developing. Still assuming that it was an accident, and not realizing the gravity of the situation, most people were staring in amazement at the burning tower. I'm sure that just like me they felt that the situation would soon be brought under control.
9:05 am... The second plane appeared. People began pointing and screaming. I looked on in total disbelief, as it flew directly into the middle floors of the South Tower of the WTC, creating a spectacular explosion. Pandemonium broke out! People were screaming, gasping, crying. Some started running. Some were praying. Some were even cursing. Most were turning to one another as if hoping for an explanation. A few sank to the ground, leaning on vehicles, on buildings, on hydrants, sobbing and praying. There was fear and panic and hysteria everywhere. We were certain now that this was not an accident. We were being attacked. This was a direct assault. For the first time in my life I experienced real fear. I expected to see bombs raining down on the city. I wanted to run but I couldn't. My feet felt too heavy to move. I stood transfixed, staring up at the clouds and the flames and the debris flying in the wind, and the tiny figures of some, who jumped to their deaths from the burning towers. I searched the skies for signs of US military planes. None came. Then someone with a radio shouted that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon in Washington and that the White House was evacuated.
A silence fell on the crowds. An ominous silence. This was war. I heard many terrified whispers of, "Where's our military!? Why don't they come when we need them? Aren't they supposed to protect us?"
10:00 am... The South Tower, the second to be hit, rocked slightly then started to crumble. The silence broke with the dull roar of the falling tower and the shouting and screaming of people all around me. I could see people running up West Broadway towards us followed by a vast cloud of dust and smoke. I'll never forget the looks of terror on their faces.
10:30 am... The North Tower fell and I immediately sensed a void develop deep inside me. Where the twin towers had reached like two giant liberated arms to the sky, there was now a smoke and dust-filled hole in the landscape. As a New Yorker who loves this city and traverses many of its streets almost everyday, I immediately felt the loss. I stood there and stared at the heavy smoke rising out of the emptiness and knew that there was a great calamity there. I knew that there must be great pain and suffering and desperation there. I felt a strong urge to get down there to join in any effort to comfort the suffering, but the police wouldn't allow any civilians past their line. Then I felt a need to call home and hear my family's voices and let them know that I was okay. But my cell phone was dead. I had to stand in line for an eternity for my turn to use a pay phone.
11:35 am... I finally got through to my family and informed them that I was alright but didn't know when I'll get home because my vehicle was boxed in by others. I asked Ishmael to try to contact anyone we knew who worked in or around the WTC, to see if they were okay. He told me that they were following all the developments on the TV. All the while fire trucks and police cars and ambulances with lights flashing, sirens blaring and horns blowing were racing everywhere. A steady stream of people hurried up from the disaster area. Some were limping, some were holding onto others for support. Most were covered with a thick coating of gray dust. Many were crying. They said the wounded were being treated at the scene or were being rushed to various hospitals. They all headed north, away from the stricken area.
12:25 pm... I finally got my vehicle out. Downtown was now off limits so I headed north to Bear Stearns at Park Ave and 46th street.
12:50 pm... I arrived at Bear Stearns to find the building closed to all deliveries and visitors. All employees had left seeking ways out of Manhattan. Only security personnel remained. I wanted to head home but the radio kept announcing that all bridges and tunnels were closed. Trains, buses and ferries also weren't running. The entire city had stopped except for the constant flow of people walking in an effort to get to their homes in the other boroughs and New Jersey. The radio also reported that for the first time in US history all the nation's airports were closed and all aircraft except the military were grounded. I could do nothing but sit in my vehicle and pray and listen to the unfolding events on the radio.
2:00 pm... I noticed that service had returned to my cell phone so I called home to inform them of my whereabouts.
3:15 pm... I heard on the radio that the Queensboro Bridge was re-opened for vehicles going to Queens so I immediately headed for the bridge and joined the traffic line at Third Avenue and 46th Street. It took me 1 hour and 5 minutes to get across the bridge to Queens. Once there I took the back roads to Nostrand Ave in Brooklyn, then down to Linden Blvd, then over to Fort Hamilton Parkway which took me to the Verrazano Bridge and home to Staten Island.
6:20 pm... I arrived home at last, to a warm welcome from my family.
Over six thousand innocent people perished today. Many more escaped from the buildings or were saved by others. Then again there were countless others, like me, who by some strange twist of fate, happened to escape.
If I wasn't delayed in New Providence or if I didn't stop for coffee and a bagel, I would've been at Sandler O'Neil on the 104th floor of No.2 World Trade Center.
If Ishmael and Sharon had worked instead of me, they would've been in the building because they don't usually stop for anything on the way in.
Our hearts go out to all the victims, their families and their loved ones. May God bless them.
And for those who survived or were spared the ordeal, Thank You Lord.
KAMALO DEEN
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