Discussions

Haven’t thought about it in a long time. I worked on the 88th floor of the North Tower but didn’t go in to work until around 9:30, so I wasn’t there when the plane hit. I lived near Washington Square Park, about 1.5 miles north, and when I stepped out to head to the subway, I saw a big crowd looking down 6th Ave before I looked up and saw the first tower on fire. Someone said a plane had hit it, and other people were speculating it was little, like a Cessna—everyone presumed it was an accident. After a while I realized my parents were probably watching this on TV and freaking out that I was in there, so I went back to my apartment to call them (cell didn’t work). Couldn’t get through, and as I was walking back out the second plane hit. Didn’t see it, but heard a horrible collective scream from the crowd watching. It was immediately clear it was terrorism. Stood dumbstruck in the crowd and watched them burn, and fire engine after fire engine stream downtown, and never thought for a single moment they would collapse. From where I stood (Houston and 6th) I could see things falling off the north tower, and thought they were window panes, but from what I learned later I’m pretty sure it was people jumping. After the first tower collapsed—I remember being surprised it fell straight down instead of toppling, and at how the exterior girders peeled away—I have a crystalline memory of first thinking everyone in my office must have died (amazingly they all escaped, which is another story), and second, that this was going to fuck up the world situation for a long time. I wasn’t able to reach my family to tell them I was alive until that afternoon. Despite all the sirens, that night was weirdly quite in my neighborhood, because traffic wasn’t allowed below 14th street—but you could hear skateboarders out, taking advantage of the empty streets. The following days were constant sirens, and people posting pictures of missing loved ones, and spontaneous memorials at every fire house. I walked a few miles uptown a few days later, which was very weird—with traffic open, and no smell and fewer sirens, it seemed almost normal, like a different city. Downtown it took months to put the fires out, and for blocks around the pit there was a horrible acrid burning smell in the air. You could see the wreckage of twisted girders for months too, since they didn’t bring heavy equipment in while they were searching for survivors (there were almost none), and then remains. People were, overall, amazingly kind to each other for a long time after, both locals and people who came to help. Some guys drove a big BBQ truck up from Texas and fed first responders and construction workers for weeks. But along with the kindness there was a constant level of ambient stress. A lot of heavy drinking. I’d never seen a fight ever in NYC, and within a few months saw three—two of them in bars after fire fighter’s funerals. I’d gotten divorced earlier in the year, and then with my work in disarray, I didn’t have much holding me there, so I moved away mid-2002. Which I felt guilty about, like I’d abandoned the city in its time of need. For years after my heart would pound and I’d reflexively scan the sky whenever I heard planes. I hardly think of it any more now, and am a little surprised at myself for over-sharing here. But you asked, so I’ll hit Submit. Take care.

I would just like to share the view of someone who lives in a city–for the past ten years San Francisco, and for the seven years prior to that New York City. I have never experienced violence personally, and seen nothing like what’s being described here. I’ve seen large-scale protests, but during them, no violence. A small number of protests have turned violent when groups of instigators refused to respect curfews, but I’ve never seen that because I did what every other sensible person in these cities does when non-violent protests end: go home. But burning trash cans make for good TV, I guess–media portrayals are wildly overblown. Like most people I know I get around on primarily on bike or foot, use public transit, and don’t even think about it. In almost 20 years I have never once had an issue worse than a flat tire. This is not to say cities don’t face problems, they do–drug use, homelessness, housing, and more. But despite a pandemic-driven rise in crime in 2020-2021, crime levels in cities are still dramatically lower than the highs of the 90s. So why am I on this site? Natural and climate-induced disasters. California in general and San Francisco specifically are going to get The Big One eventually, it’s a matter of when, not if. While not an issue in San Francisco, rural and suburban areas of the West are seeing unprecedented fires. Climate change is increasing storm intensity and raising sea levels, making hurricanes more of a threat to the east and gulf coasts. We’re as prepared as possible for those. But I was in NYC on 9/11, and for major blackouts. It did not descend into chaos, rather the opposite. People helped each other.

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Haven’t thought about it in a long time. I worked on the 88th floor of the North Tower but didn’t go in to work until around 9:30, so I wasn’t there when the plane hit. I lived near Washington Square Park, about 1.5 miles north, and when I stepped out to head to the subway, I saw a big crowd looking down 6th Ave before I looked up and saw the first tower on fire. Someone said a plane had hit it, and other people were speculating it was little, like a Cessna—everyone presumed it was an accident. After a while I realized my parents were probably watching this on TV and freaking out that I was in there, so I went back to my apartment to call them (cell didn’t work). Couldn’t get through, and as I was walking back out the second plane hit. Didn’t see it, but heard a horrible collective scream from the crowd watching. It was immediately clear it was terrorism. Stood dumbstruck in the crowd and watched them burn, and fire engine after fire engine stream downtown, and never thought for a single moment they would collapse. From where I stood (Houston and 6th) I could see things falling off the north tower, and thought they were window panes, but from what I learned later I’m pretty sure it was people jumping. After the first tower collapsed—I remember being surprised it fell straight down instead of toppling, and at how the exterior girders peeled away—I have a crystalline memory of first thinking everyone in my office must have died (amazingly they all escaped, which is another story), and second, that this was going to fuck up the world situation for a long time. I wasn’t able to reach my family to tell them I was alive until that afternoon. Despite all the sirens, that night was weirdly quite in my neighborhood, because traffic wasn’t allowed below 14th street—but you could hear skateboarders out, taking advantage of the empty streets. The following days were constant sirens, and people posting pictures of missing loved ones, and spontaneous memorials at every fire house. I walked a few miles uptown a few days later, which was very weird—with traffic open, and no smell and fewer sirens, it seemed almost normal, like a different city. Downtown it took months to put the fires out, and for blocks around the pit there was a horrible acrid burning smell in the air. You could see the wreckage of twisted girders for months too, since they didn’t bring heavy equipment in while they were searching for survivors (there were almost none), and then remains. People were, overall, amazingly kind to each other for a long time after, both locals and people who came to help. Some guys drove a big BBQ truck up from Texas and fed first responders and construction workers for weeks. But along with the kindness there was a constant level of ambient stress. A lot of heavy drinking. I’d never seen a fight ever in NYC, and within a few months saw three—two of them in bars after fire fighter’s funerals. I’d gotten divorced earlier in the year, and then with my work in disarray, I didn’t have much holding me there, so I moved away mid-2002. Which I felt guilty about, like I’d abandoned the city in its time of need. For years after my heart would pound and I’d reflexively scan the sky whenever I heard planes. I hardly think of it any more now, and am a little surprised at myself for over-sharing here. But you asked, so I’ll hit Submit. Take care.

I would just like to share the view of someone who lives in a city–for the past ten years San Francisco, and for the seven years prior to that New York City. I have never experienced violence personally, and seen nothing like what’s being described here. I’ve seen large-scale protests, but during them, no violence. A small number of protests have turned violent when groups of instigators refused to respect curfews, but I’ve never seen that because I did what every other sensible person in these cities does when non-violent protests end: go home. But burning trash cans make for good TV, I guess–media portrayals are wildly overblown. Like most people I know I get around on primarily on bike or foot, use public transit, and don’t even think about it. In almost 20 years I have never once had an issue worse than a flat tire. This is not to say cities don’t face problems, they do–drug use, homelessness, housing, and more. But despite a pandemic-driven rise in crime in 2020-2021, crime levels in cities are still dramatically lower than the highs of the 90s. So why am I on this site? Natural and climate-induced disasters. California in general and San Francisco specifically are going to get The Big One eventually, it’s a matter of when, not if. While not an issue in San Francisco, rural and suburban areas of the West are seeing unprecedented fires. Climate change is increasing storm intensity and raising sea levels, making hurricanes more of a threat to the east and gulf coasts. We’re as prepared as possible for those. But I was in NYC on 9/11, and for major blackouts. It did not descend into chaos, rather the opposite. People helped each other.