September 11
This blog entry is not in my normal style and will more than likely be very long as it is an account of this day, five years ago. The purpose of this entry is for my own emotional and mental healing but is available for everyone to read. Please keep this in mind when or if you read. The Queen has also written an emotional entry.
The day started as any other. I was living in Springfield, Virginia and working at the District of Columbia. My normal commute to work starts with a ride on the Virginia Railway Express (VRE) from Lorton. Lorton is actually closer and the commuter train is much nicer and often faster than the Metro (DC’s subway).
Once arriving in DC, I walk to the office about a mile from Union Station. The day is sunny and not too warm.
After arriving at the office and getting seated, we check all of the email systems to make sure there have been no hiccups. There is nothing out of the ordinary so Tim and I start Metro searching to find the subway/bus route to the data center. This is our first time at this data center and we didn’t want to end up somewhere that would require some sort of SWAT extraction.
While trying to map out our route, Michele notices a slow-down in Internet traffic when she tries to connect to CNN.com. It is at this point we all jump into action and start trying to hit any site noticing everything is slow. I finally connect to MSNBC.com and the main page only shows a news break about a plane hitting the World Trade Center.
Thinking this is a freak accident, I called my wife and asked her to turn on the TV to CNN to find out.
She does. The Queen is utterly shocked and can’t believe something like this could happen with all of the technology that is in the planes and on the ground.
Meanwhile, Tim and I decide that if we don’t leave now, we will end up missing the bus to get to the data center. We leave.
After walking two blocks in the wrong direction, my phone rings.
“OH MY GOD JOHN!” the Queen is screaming on the phone so loud I can barely make out anything she is saying, “Another plane just slammed into the other tower! You need to leave!” As the Queen is still bawling on the other end of the phone, I look over to Tim to relay the information and we both stop in our tracks. “We are under attack! You need to leave!”
I inform the Queen that Tim and I are heading back to the office right now and we are leaving.
We had not walked an entire block back toward the building when the mayor’s cavalcade flies in to excavate him from our building. Tim and I look at each other knowing that we are in trouble. Black Suburbans are speeding across intersections heading toward the Capitol building to pick up their respective Senators and Representatives.
Our building is place half way between the Capitol building and the White House. If something sis happen, we were definitely going to be affected.
At this point, Tim and I are picking up the pace toward the office. We enter the lobby and already security had tightened up because of the threat. Tim and I ran downstairs to pick up our laptops. We had to run upstairs to the 8th floor to notify our boss that we are leaving.
Once arriving, the big projection TV at the main lobby is showing footage of the towers and is informing us that air space is being shut down for all air traffic. Then we heard it.
From our vantage point, we heard it first. It sounded more like a chair being thrown against the glass than an explosion. But when I looked over toward the Pentagon, it was perfectly clear that it was not. The black cloud had just begun to rise and it was entire too close for me.
Fear had stepped from worry to panic. I told Tim that he was heading out with me. Any way out of town was better than nothing. Tim was living in Sterling at the time, but was a close friend and had been to my house many times before.
Now, how do we get out of town. The Metro was already being shut down and being underground was not a very acceptable option right then. We agreed to walk to Union Station and catch the FIRST train out of town heading South. Amtrak and VRE have an agreement that they will take you as far as the VRE ticket at no additional cost.
While walking to the station, the black Suburbans are nowhere to be found. But traffic in the city had stopped due to instantaneous panic and congestion.
Tim and I ran and boarded the Amtrak heading to Springfield. The train was full of other VRE riders looking for the fastest way out. Right when the train was ready to leave, a man with a FBI windbreaker came on board and informed everyone they need to disembark the train and head out of Union Station on the West side. There was a possible bomb on the train and in the station and everyone was to evacuate immediately.
Now what?
Tim and I stood outside the station and met up with a couple of the network security guys trying to do the same thing. We considered walking to the bike shop and purchasing a bike to ride out of town.
We were buzzed by two F-16s flying over the Capitol building. The military Humvees had started rolling into town and the situation went from completely uncomfortable to scary. After talking to the police officer, we found our options limited to none.
After many attempts to use a cell phone, we found that Blackberry messaging was working…slowly, but working nonetheless. Also, Tim’s Nextel phone could grab a signal every so often. I emailed the Queen with message which I will always remember:
Can’t get out of town. Walking to the bar across from the train station.
What were we to do? We walked into Irish Times and watched TV and drank at 10:30 in the morning. There was actually a large turnout for the bar considering how many people were trying to leave. We sat there in amazement as the information was relay to us. While in the bar, we relayed messages to loved ones of others stuck in the city via Blackberry. We had people using Tim’s phone when they could connect since it was most likely to get service.
We were watching as everyone else did as the first tower fell to the ground followed closely by the second. What hit home for us was when the Pentagon wall crumbled.
I called the Queen. That was the hardest thing I could do. She didn’t answer so I left a message informing her that I am alright and that when we can figure how to leave town, we will. She was at the school pulling the kids out.
We sat in the bar until around 5:30 when we decided the worst was over and again tried to find a way out of town. Union Station was still closed, but the Metro had just reopened.
I would take the Blue line back to Springfield and Tim would take the Orange line.
The train was fairly empty but not the Springfield station. Everyone that normally took the VRE South, was now out of town but stranded in Springfield. One of these people was an Air Force Colonel that rode with me on the Metro and the two network security guys from work.
As I was talking to the John and Jim, the Colonel overheard me tell them that my wife could drop them off at Potomac Mills. The Colonel, covered in soot, asked if he could also catch a ride which I promptly replied “Sure, not a problem.”
Springfield station was wall-to-wall people. As we weaved through the crowd to be picked up, my wife spotted me and a noticeable sigh of relief came over her. I have three other people in tow and informed her that we were dropping them off.
While driving toward Potomac Mills, I asked the Colonel if he was in the Pentagon.
“Yes. I made it out without issue, but I know people in that wing. We were supposed to move back to that wing next week.”
A stark quiet came over the sport utility vehicle.
“Does your wife know you are OK?” says the Queen.
“Yes, she knows.”
After dropping off John and Jim, we continued toward the Colonel’s house. We tried to have some small talk, but he was understandably short on answers. Mostly, the questions asked were directions to his destination. We dropped him off and Andi considered going back to the station to pickup more stranded people.
After asking her where the kids were, she decided it was best to get back to them to keep them from worrying. That night was spent camping out in front of the TV and on the phone.
The Aftermath…
That evening, we found out that the Queen’s cousin, Jason who normally works in the Cantor Fitzgerald office in World Trade Center 1 was in London. Most of his friends were lost that night. He was devastated and no longer works there.
One family in our neighborhood also lost a loving husband and soon-to-be father as he was in the wing of the Pentagon that took the impact. The wife and unborn child moved in with her parents and sold the house. The community had a candlelight vigil for the fallen soldier next to Lake Mercer.
The Queen took the whole incident very hard. We were unable to drive by the Pentagon without her bawling her eyes out because of all of the people lost and those left behind. Even after the wing was completely rebuilt, it is still hard to drive that stretch of I-395.
It was an awakening for me. I came to the realization that no matter what I do, or where I am, I cannot have complete control over my life. I continued working at DC Government until July 3 of the next year. I worked through the Anthrax scare. I worked through so many code Orange threats that the sign never appeared to turn off. Since I had some money saved up, I took a six month sabbatical and attended school. After six months, I ended up working on another project for DC Government in the same building. It wasn’t until I moved to metro Chicago that I felt safe…well, safer. I still do not go to the office on September 11.
On this fifth anniversary of one of the biggest days in American history, please remember the 2,996 people who lost their lives. Remember Commander Patrick S. Dunn of Springfield, Virginia for his wife Stephanie and their child Alexandria Patricia Dunn.
The day started as any other. I was living in Springfield, Virginia and working at the District of Columbia. My normal commute to work starts with a ride on the Virginia Railway Express (VRE) from Lorton. Lorton is actually closer and the commuter train is much nicer and often faster than the Metro (DC’s subway).
Once arriving in DC, I walk to the office about a mile from Union Station. The day is sunny and not too warm.
After arriving at the office and getting seated, we check all of the email systems to make sure there have been no hiccups. There is nothing out of the ordinary so Tim and I start Metro searching to find the subway/bus route to the data center. This is our first time at this data center and we didn’t want to end up somewhere that would require some sort of SWAT extraction.
While trying to map out our route, Michele notices a slow-down in Internet traffic when she tries to connect to CNN.com. It is at this point we all jump into action and start trying to hit any site noticing everything is slow. I finally connect to MSNBC.com and the main page only shows a news break about a plane hitting the World Trade Center.
Thinking this is a freak accident, I called my wife and asked her to turn on the TV to CNN to find out.
She does. The Queen is utterly shocked and can’t believe something like this could happen with all of the technology that is in the planes and on the ground.
Meanwhile, Tim and I decide that if we don’t leave now, we will end up missing the bus to get to the data center. We leave.
After walking two blocks in the wrong direction, my phone rings.
“OH MY GOD JOHN!” the Queen is screaming on the phone so loud I can barely make out anything she is saying, “Another plane just slammed into the other tower! You need to leave!” As the Queen is still bawling on the other end of the phone, I look over to Tim to relay the information and we both stop in our tracks. “We are under attack! You need to leave!”
I inform the Queen that Tim and I are heading back to the office right now and we are leaving.
We had not walked an entire block back toward the building when the mayor’s cavalcade flies in to excavate him from our building. Tim and I look at each other knowing that we are in trouble. Black Suburbans are speeding across intersections heading toward the Capitol building to pick up their respective Senators and Representatives.
Our building is place half way between the Capitol building and the White House. If something sis happen, we were definitely going to be affected.
At this point, Tim and I are picking up the pace toward the office. We enter the lobby and already security had tightened up because of the threat. Tim and I ran downstairs to pick up our laptops. We had to run upstairs to the 8th floor to notify our boss that we are leaving.
Once arriving, the big projection TV at the main lobby is showing footage of the towers and is informing us that air space is being shut down for all air traffic. Then we heard it.
From our vantage point, we heard it first. It sounded more like a chair being thrown against the glass than an explosion. But when I looked over toward the Pentagon, it was perfectly clear that it was not. The black cloud had just begun to rise and it was entire too close for me.
Fear had stepped from worry to panic. I told Tim that he was heading out with me. Any way out of town was better than nothing. Tim was living in Sterling at the time, but was a close friend and had been to my house many times before.
Now, how do we get out of town. The Metro was already being shut down and being underground was not a very acceptable option right then. We agreed to walk to Union Station and catch the FIRST train out of town heading South. Amtrak and VRE have an agreement that they will take you as far as the VRE ticket at no additional cost.
While walking to the station, the black Suburbans are nowhere to be found. But traffic in the city had stopped due to instantaneous panic and congestion.
Tim and I ran and boarded the Amtrak heading to Springfield. The train was full of other VRE riders looking for the fastest way out. Right when the train was ready to leave, a man with a FBI windbreaker came on board and informed everyone they need to disembark the train and head out of Union Station on the West side. There was a possible bomb on the train and in the station and everyone was to evacuate immediately.
Now what?
Tim and I stood outside the station and met up with a couple of the network security guys trying to do the same thing. We considered walking to the bike shop and purchasing a bike to ride out of town.
We were buzzed by two F-16s flying over the Capitol building. The military Humvees had started rolling into town and the situation went from completely uncomfortable to scary. After talking to the police officer, we found our options limited to none.
After many attempts to use a cell phone, we found that Blackberry messaging was working…slowly, but working nonetheless. Also, Tim’s Nextel phone could grab a signal every so often. I emailed the Queen with message which I will always remember:
Can’t get out of town. Walking to the bar across from the train station.
What were we to do? We walked into Irish Times and watched TV and drank at 10:30 in the morning. There was actually a large turnout for the bar considering how many people were trying to leave. We sat there in amazement as the information was relay to us. While in the bar, we relayed messages to loved ones of others stuck in the city via Blackberry. We had people using Tim’s phone when they could connect since it was most likely to get service.
We were watching as everyone else did as the first tower fell to the ground followed closely by the second. What hit home for us was when the Pentagon wall crumbled.
I called the Queen. That was the hardest thing I could do. She didn’t answer so I left a message informing her that I am alright and that when we can figure how to leave town, we will. She was at the school pulling the kids out.
We sat in the bar until around 5:30 when we decided the worst was over and again tried to find a way out of town. Union Station was still closed, but the Metro had just reopened.
I would take the Blue line back to Springfield and Tim would take the Orange line.
The train was fairly empty but not the Springfield station. Everyone that normally took the VRE South, was now out of town but stranded in Springfield. One of these people was an Air Force Colonel that rode with me on the Metro and the two network security guys from work.
As I was talking to the John and Jim, the Colonel overheard me tell them that my wife could drop them off at Potomac Mills. The Colonel, covered in soot, asked if he could also catch a ride which I promptly replied “Sure, not a problem.”
Springfield station was wall-to-wall people. As we weaved through the crowd to be picked up, my wife spotted me and a noticeable sigh of relief came over her. I have three other people in tow and informed her that we were dropping them off.
While driving toward Potomac Mills, I asked the Colonel if he was in the Pentagon.
“Yes. I made it out without issue, but I know people in that wing. We were supposed to move back to that wing next week.”
A stark quiet came over the sport utility vehicle.
“Does your wife know you are OK?” says the Queen.
“Yes, she knows.”
After dropping off John and Jim, we continued toward the Colonel’s house. We tried to have some small talk, but he was understandably short on answers. Mostly, the questions asked were directions to his destination. We dropped him off and Andi considered going back to the station to pickup more stranded people.
After asking her where the kids were, she decided it was best to get back to them to keep them from worrying. That night was spent camping out in front of the TV and on the phone.
The Aftermath…
That evening, we found out that the Queen’s cousin, Jason who normally works in the Cantor Fitzgerald office in World Trade Center 1 was in London. Most of his friends were lost that night. He was devastated and no longer works there.
One family in our neighborhood also lost a loving husband and soon-to-be father as he was in the wing of the Pentagon that took the impact. The wife and unborn child moved in with her parents and sold the house. The community had a candlelight vigil for the fallen soldier next to Lake Mercer.
The Queen took the whole incident very hard. We were unable to drive by the Pentagon without her bawling her eyes out because of all of the people lost and those left behind. Even after the wing was completely rebuilt, it is still hard to drive that stretch of I-395.
It was an awakening for me. I came to the realization that no matter what I do, or where I am, I cannot have complete control over my life. I continued working at DC Government until July 3 of the next year. I worked through the Anthrax scare. I worked through so many code Orange threats that the sign never appeared to turn off. Since I had some money saved up, I took a six month sabbatical and attended school. After six months, I ended up working on another project for DC Government in the same building. It wasn’t until I moved to metro Chicago that I felt safe…well, safer. I still do not go to the office on September 11.
On this fifth anniversary of one of the biggest days in American history, please remember the 2,996 people who lost their lives. Remember Commander Patrick S. Dunn of Springfield, Virginia for his wife Stephanie and their child Alexandria Patricia Dunn.
Comments
This is first time I am hearing the first hand narrationon what happened on september 11. Really shocking and tear jerking. Nobody can forget this incident in their lifelong.