Monday, May 29, 2006

Memorial Day is not just for our Soldiers

Reading a post over at Kvetch Blog earlier inspired me to share this story. After all, it is Memorial Day, and the people that lost their lives on 9-11-01 deserve to be memorialized as much as our fallen soldiers.
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9-11-01

L picked me up a little after 8AM to take us to Logan airport. We were both headed into NYC for work, and had managed to coordinate our shuttle flights.

Sort of.

I was on Delta, she was on U.S. Air, and our flights were scheduled a half an hour apart, but it still allowed us to travel to the airport together. Which meant we could utilize the carpool lane into Boston, saving us quite a bit of travel time (and aggravating traffic time.) We chatted the entire way into town, never bothering to turn on the radio, because we had so much to discuss.

B and I were still together at this point, but we were fighting constantly. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. L has always been my go to girl for advice, so most of our time in the car was spent discussing my options.

We arrived at Logan around 9:15, parked in central parking, and went our separate ways. As I approached the Delta terminal I noticed a gentleman sitting outside, smoking a ciggarette.

He looked at me and said "You're not getting to New York today."

I didn't respond outloud, but my brain did: "How do you know I'm going to New York, and what the fuck are you talking about?"

I hurried past him, into the ground level of the Delta terminal, and looked up at the board of scheduled flights.

Cancelled

Cancelled

Cancelled

All the way down the list it went. Every flight cancelled. Not delayed, cancelled. I was terribly confused. I went upstairs, approached the desk, and asked for an explanation.

I got nothing.

Except that, yes, all flights have been cancelled and no further information was available at this time.

I called L's cell. She picked up on the first ring and before I could get out a word, she said "You too?"

"My flight's been cancelled. Yours too?"

My call waiting beeped in, I checked the display, saw it was B, and told L I'd call her right back.

I clicked over.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Thank G-d you're okay!"

"What?" (I was definitely irritated at his histronics because I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.)

"A plane hit the Twin Towers! It came from Boston. I thought you were on that plane!"

"My plane isn't scheduled to leave until 10:30, how could I have been on that plane? What are you talking about?"

"A plane hit the Twin Towers. It crashed right into it. I bet it was terrorists!"

"B, calm down. I'm sure it was just a terrible accident. Why do you always have to think the worst?" (As we would all later find out, his negativity was actually right on target, this time.)

I told him I had to call L back and figure out what we were going to do. I'd speak to him later.

Because L & I had no idea of the magnitude of what had happened, and were completely dedicated to our jobs, we proceeded to try and make other arrangements to get into NYC. I called Amtrack while she made her way over to the Delta terminal to meet me.

By the time she arrived I had realized that there was no way we were getting to NYC that day (another prophecy come to fruition.) We decided it was probably a better idea to just head back to the South Shore.

The ride back home was spent in silent reflection. We were both too stunned to speak. There was very little information coming from the radio; we were still in the dark as to what was going on.

We arrived at my house and turned on the television. The Today show was still broadcasting, and was showing footage of the Towers crumbling at that exact moment. I turned and looked at L.

"What is that? That can't be right! That's a joke, right?"

The message light on my machine was blinking. It was my mom. I was supposed to be staying with my parents that night. My mother was hysterical on the phone, begging me to call her. I picked up the phone to call her back, my eyes still glued to the wreckage on TV.

Watching the Towers fall, over and over again.

The phone rang a fast busy. (As it continued to do for the next few days. It was three days before I was able to speak to anyone in my family.) I tried a few more times before I hung up and looked over at L.

She was on her cell, tears streaming from her eyes.

L was a buyer for TJ Maxx before she moved to the South Shore and had her second child. The daily commute back and forth from Metro West was brutal. Tired of dealing with it, she had quit just months earlier.

The call was to tell her that one of the flights from Boston was filled with her friends from TJ's. Wives and mothers all. Had she still worked for them, she would've been on that flight as well.

We ended up at the beach that day. Smoking weed and reflecting on our lives. It was when and where I realized that my marriage could not continue in its current state. It was over. I needed to tell him to leave.

Because not only is life much too short to be unhappy, you never know when it might be snatched out from under you.

I was very lucky that day. I could've lost my brother.

Grumpy was in Building 7 early for a conference call and witnessed both planes crashing into the Towers. He was able to evacuate and escape with only the demons he will live with for the rest of his life.

The ironic thing was that it was a beautiful, sunny day here in small town suburbia.

Not so much in NYC.

G-d Bless all that were associated with, or effected by that horrific day. My thoughts and prayers will always be with you.





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