story684.xml

story684.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-05-29

We were at our desks at a state office and one of our co-workers came out of the kitchen where there is a TV set. He was ashen, a private pilot himself, and blurted out that a "small" plane had hit the WTC in clear weather. We gathered around and watched in horror as the 2nd plane hit, then we heard that the Pentagon was also under attack. We heard at first it was a helicopter crash. People were very quiet, not speculating wildly really, offering some logical suggestions... maybe this, maybe that... then word came that we were all to go home, that a State of Emergency had been declared and that two of the planes had been hijacked out of our own Logan Airport. No one knew if there were any more still up there then, that was the weirdest feeling, not knowing if it was over or not.

In the subway and looking at random people, wondering if from their expression I could tell if they knew or not. People on cell phones shaking their heads, telling someone on the other end that "it would be alright". Off the train and walking home wondering what else had happened. Had more planes been hijacked and crashed while I was underground? I looked up in the sky and saw no planes and wondered. Looking at the police officers, firemen and ambulances driving past and thinking about them, the everyday heroes risking their lives for all of us. Finally at home and dazed, trying to call my friends in NYC... and not getting through.

Watching TV and then seeing with my own eyes the WTC tower crumble and fall, twice. Hearing about Flight 93 crashing in Shanksville PA and what that meant. Gathering up the slim bits and pieces of "facts" and "news" and trying desperately to fit them together into something resembling coherant reality. A roller coaster ride of on-the-scene news reports, tape of the disaster, the awestruck witnesses... a collage of snippets and vingettes that could only provide a few sketchy tiles of a puzzling mosaic.

What did we do to deserve this?