Contrived conflict aside, it made me reflect on my memories of September 11, 2001. I replay that day in my head every year on the anniversary and other times when people ask me, but I realized I had never written anything down. The memorials and media reflections seen especially poignant this year, marking a DECADE (Emphasis my own. Has it really been that long?) since the attacks on that day. As more years go on, I'm sure I'll remember things differently, so I wanted to take the time in advance of the upcoming anniversary to write this down.
In 2001, I graduated high school. In September of that year, I began my undergraduate studies at Columbia University in New York City. Yep. THAT New York City. In September. I started classes on Tuesday, September 4. I remember because it was my sister's birthday. In addition to getting to all my classes, I was stressing myself out because I hadn't gotten her a card or anything. But I made it through that first week of classes.
The following week, on Tuesday, September 11, I was running out of my dorm for a 9am class. I was cutting it a little close, because it was about 8:50am and I was just leaving my room and headed to the hall for the elevator.
SIDE NOTE: Because the Columbia campus is right in the city where space is at a premium, most of the dorms were high-rise and I lived on the 12th floor of my freshman dorm. When I came home for Christmas during my first year, my family wanted to take me out for a nice dinner and so we went to the Top of the World restaurant at our local Hilton hotel. My dad pressed the button for the restaurant on the 15th floor and I burst out laughing, "My dorm has 15 floors!" New York wins again.
So back to me walking down the hallway at 8:50am on September 11, 2001. I walked by a guy named Bart's room, where he was yelling "Whoa, look at this!" and pointing at his TV. Already running late, I kept moving and made it to my 9am Political Theory class on time. Class lecture went as normal until about halfway through when a woman came in and whispered something to the professor. Professor Dalton announced with some confusion that classes had been cancelled for the rest of the day due to the incidents at the World Trade Center, but that we would finish our class.
After class ended, I was walking back to my dorm wondering what could have happened that would cause classes to be cancelled. I approached the main gates at Columbia's campus and found them closed, save for one where I had to show my school ID to a security guard. During the rest of my four years there, this was the only time that ever happened.
Reaching my floor in the dorm, I found many of my other floor mates in the hall lounge glued to the TV. One tower had already collapsed and I was just in time to see the second tower fall. I remained in that lounge the rest of the day glued to the TV and trying to soak in the events happening a few miles from me. One of my floor mates had an uncle on the second plane to hit the WTC tower. This was the footage news stations kept replaying. I didn't see her let go of her pillow all day, and found her in the same place the next morning with the TV still running.
As scared and confused as I was, I remember being struck by the resiliency of New Yorkers. There were images of people holding and helping each other as they ran from the WTC site. In the following days, I would learn of the 343 firefighters and others that died helping people at the site. While I was watching the news, a group of Columbia students came around asking for donations of medical supplies to help the then unknown number of survivors. I managed a bottle of ibuprofen and saw people lining up outside St. Luke's hospital to donate blood.
I fell in love with New York when I first visited and decided to attend Columbia. I fell in love all over again as I saw the city come together in the aftermath of this tragedy. And as an extra special bonus, I fell in love with the New York Yankees as they played in the World Series that October and seemingly had the backing of the whole nation to triumph (this might be the New Yorker view of the world talking).
TODAY: I still love the Yankees. I still love New York. And I am pleased to say that I was just entering the Holland Tunnel to New York when I found out the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. I reflected anew at the WTC site.
EXTRA SPECIAL TODAY BONUS: Now living in Portland, beginning my first year in an MBA program, I was walking through the International Test Rose Garden and saw Professor Dennis Dalton, my political theory professor from my first year at Columbia. He was walking with his grandchildren and looked really happy. I wanted to say hi and thank him for his teaching ten years ago, but I let him enjoy his moment. Professor Dalton informed a lot of my views about nonviolence and upon further reflection, probably helped me understand the world events from that first year in New York. Since I didn't say it when I saw him, this is my thank you.
