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I Was In The World Trade Center When The Planes Hit
I was eating breakfast in the Marriott Hotel and watching Tracey Ullman when burning debris started landing on the roof in front of me. Then the second plane hit above my head and it was time to move...
Moments before this I'd been eating breakfast and watching the news
On September 11th 2001, I was staying at the Marriott World Trade Center – the hotel at the foot of the Twin Towers. I was a diplomat at the British Embassy in Washington DC – posted there by Gordon Brown’s Treasury. I was at the Trade Center for two days, attending a conference on the US economy. My room looked directly onto the South Tower, across the roof of the Marriott.
I woke up that morning, ordered breakfast, and was watching Tracey Ullman on NBC’s Today Show. Fruit, yogurt, coffee. Nice close-up view of the South Tower. Then stuff started landing outside my bedroom window, onto the hotel roof right in front of me – burning debris, flying papers, and a very bad burning smell. I thought it was a bomb.
Tracey was still talking to Katie Couric on the TV. I stuck my head out the bedroom door. No evacuation announcement. Katie announced that a small plane had hit the North Tower. A one-off. Outside on the Marriott roof, it was looking really bad: more burning stuff falling within inches of my window. It was time to go.
I packed my case, and left my room. Went down the stairs, and got to the big lobby – which was packed with people. By this time, it was nearly 9am. I joined the line to exit the building. Just as I was leaving, the second plane hit the South Tower, right above our heads. Lots more stuff starting falling down, and we were pushed back inside. Some injured people were pulled in from the sidewalk, quite bad. People started calling on the pay phones, because mobiles weren’t working.
Panic started. This wasn’t an accident any more. There could be more planes.
The ground outside had the same stuff on it as the Marriott roof – burning fireballs, random papers, and that smell.
I was on my own, didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak to anyone. Nearer 9.30, they started letting everyone out. Don’t look up, run, and keep going. The ground outside had the same stuff on it as the Marriott roof – burning fireballs, random papers, and that smell. I didn’t look up, ran across West Street, and kept walking. Got clear of the Towers, with my suitcase, and called my sister in Newark.
Clear of the Towers, and walking down to Battery Park, I could see things more clearly. That blue sky, after the rain the night before. The top floors, trapped. The jumpers, quite a lot of them. People taking photos. I watched for a bit, didn’t take any photos, just watched. That’s when I realised how serious it was. Then I carried on walking.
I ended up on Wall Street.
It sounded like another plane was hitting. But it was the South Tower falling, about four blocks away. I turned the corner of Wall Street, and saw that massive cloud coming towards me. I dumped my suitcase, and legged it down Broad Street, past Wall St metro station. The cloud was yards behind me. To my right, a side entrance, with a metal shutter. An NY policeman let me and one other person inside. It was the New York Stock Exchange – strangely appropriate, for a Treasury diplomat. Within five seconds, the NYSE shutter came down. I was lucky to be inside. Outside, people were getting engulfed.
I was taken down to the basement, given a bottle of water and left there for over an hour. Circles of women were praying. For a while, I thought we weren’t going to get out. This was probably the most frightening bit. Then we were allowed up to the trading floor of the Stock Exchange. I stayed there for another couple of hours, watching the Pentagon and the collapsed Towers. Then we were allowed out.
Out on the street, the ground was covered in thick powder. Like grey snow. Hardly anyone was around. I walked away along Wall Street, under the Brooklyn Bridge, through Chinatown and Little Italy up to Midtown. Five or six miles to the British Consulate. They were expecting me. I was taken straight to the Consul-General’s office. Asked him for some cigarettes, and smoked most of his Dunhills. Called my family, who had no idea where I had been for the last six hours.
I watched Rudy Giuliani on TV that night, and George Bush, and Tony Blair. Actually went to sleep, amazingly. Got up the next morning, and left from Penn Station on a packed train. Met my sister in Newark, and spent the next three years in Washington DC.
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COMMENTS
And?
Alan you are a twat. Like many people downtown that day stories of their day will be light on specific ghoulish details: and if you can't figure out why then you are a tosser. What this writer manages to convey is both the remarkable speed at which a normal autumnal day turned to horror, the isolation many felt and also gives us a glimpse of the remarkable small human interactions that both helped save lives and showed glimpses of humanity in the face of unknown yet devastating terror. He is also frank in his acknowledgent of the incredible fear and helplessness that was instilled throughout that terrible day by being both unaware of what we faced and of the difficulty of comprehending what was happening. He then ends with a single sentence which in its simplicity sums up that inspire of 9/11 the world kept turning (albeit it's direction changed forever). This simple final sentence ahould remind you that September 11th was and is not the end of anyones story. Not his, not Americas, not Britains and not the victims nor friends and families of victims. And? And Never Forget, you twat.
Inspite - not inspire -
I had the honour, not pleasure, of uploading and publishing this piece. Alan, you're a wanker, Tim, well said
Well done Owen. Please upload the stories from the other 100,000 people who have stories as unremarkable as this from the day. "I am breakfast, went for a fun, and then went to live in D.C." Awesome.
*Ate breakfast.
And what did you expect Alan? I felt a connection simply by being on top of the towers a few months before. I cannot imagine being there, in the greatest city in the world on the most tragic of days. This piece shed some light on the day from a perspective you or I will never understand.
I have never been in a building hit by an airliner resulting in 3000 dead and watched folk, driven to madness, jump to their deaths. Alan, if your average day is more 'exciting' than that, then you, my old fruit, are welcome to it and I'd love to read your missive. Excellent,evocative, writing Mr Finch.
The point here was that most first hand experiences of this that are reported are either heroic or tragic, what struck me about Dermot's experience was the normality of what he had to do in terrible condition. Basically run away from a massive building that was collapsing. it was probably the most representative account of most of the people who were in his situation.
how honestly written,no screaming beauties,no big strong heroes.I applaud your honesty.When faced with potential personal catastrophe on this scale,Rule 1 applies.Save yourself!!!
A very moving and evocative piece, showing how a world-shattering event affected everybody involved. Such a shame that attention-seeking children like Alan feel the need to sully the article with their immature and unwanted comments. Some people really do need to grow up and get a grip - sadly he probably thinks he's being cool and clever. Idiot.
in the treasury now, reading this. i can see the civil servant matter-of-fact writing style got the better of you. very powerful, nonetheless.
he wasnt really in the world trade center tho was he? I mean...the title makes out that he was in the towers. He wasn't, i stopped reading after the opening sentence...epic fail
Sorry to disappoint you KingCrimson but I guess you never visited World Trade Centre. The World Trade Centre was a block made up of a number of buildings and an underground shopping centre. It was huge and at times confusing to enter.. a bit like The Barbican in London or Canary Wharf in London's Docklands only much bigger. You're mistakenly assuming the Twin Towers were the be all and end all of the World Trade Centre. A bit like confusing Tower Bridge with London Bridge. You can read up on it here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Trade_Center
I've stayed at the hotel and the hotel was INSIDE the World Trade Center, and connected the North and South tower. Marriott hotel was completely destroyed on 9/11
If the Marriot's not close enough for you I hope one day you have the good fortune to be as far away from such a potent disaster. I was on 79th Street which is fucking miles away but the memory of that day is etched on my mind forever. A mate of mine, Cuban window cleaner, came in where I worked and told us a plane had hit the tower. I was breaking balls with a contractor pal of mine who's latest chick had taken him to see The Full Monty musical the night before. He'd enjoyed it. I was questioning his sexuality as is the norm in these situations. He was laughing, knowing full well, if the tables were turned he'd have done the same. We all thought it was probably a two seater or one of the Wall Street Moneymen in a private plane and honestly thought no more of it. We had our usual coffees and teas as the building filled up, turned on the telly to see the full horror. Fuck! There were procedures in place and the building was locked down, everyone sent home, contractors told no work today. I went up to the roof with Pat a young lad I worked with , who's family is one of those NYFD families, I guess Pat's the runt, he's a Sparky. To see the smoke rising and see his face and know he's thinking his old lad was probably going in there, not nice. I went down to the 16th floor when a one time film producer lived when in the city. He was away and I knew his house keeper well enough to know she'd let us have a look on the telly. The telly was floor to ceiling and a good 12 foot wide. I got in the room just in time to see the first tower go. Fucking hell. No one could comprehend what we were seeing. I climbed the ladder back onto the roof to be greeted by Pat back dropped by the huge cloud of ash, and dust, some much bigger than the initial cloud, heading out towards Brooklyn. He looked at me and said,'It's gone John hasn't it?' Fucking hell. Down in the lobby were a collection of Upper Eastside wives, ladies who lunch and sit on charity boards while spending a years salary for me on a couple of dresses a pair of shoes and a fucking manicure without a second thought but right then, they'd have traded it all to get a phone call saying, 'I'm alright honey.' You could see it on their faces. My Gaffer, a sound guy who'd do anything to help anyone was comforting them while worrying about his own family. A son who was a cop, who did fucking rescue people, saved lives, pulled people out via the subway with a fireman who died and a nephew who worked for one of the big financial firms who wasn't so lucky. Weird man. Outside Don Philipos Pizzeria on Lex, traffic not moving, city in lock down save for the odd bus and the subways. Smoke getting higher, both towers gone now. A guy from Arista Air Conditioning with his door open, everyone crowded round listening to 1010 Wins - You give us 22 minutes we'll give you the World. The World was Downtown and D.C. and Shanksville P.A. I got home that night,via an empty bus to Grand Central, deserted save for heavily armed police, the 7 train, and the E, not my usuals route, Forest Hills, my pregnant wife outside our building with our daughter, almost 2, and a neighbour who'd never spoken to me in the 6 years I'd lived there, who said she knew I worked in the city and was worried about me! My wife's cousin who swore never to cross a bridge into Manhattan again. My wife cried, already a ball of emotion, the twins due in October. All I could think that night is what an arsehole I was. I have that stupid Northern English thing in me where I can't keep my mouth shut, where I don't know when to stop taking the piss. Tom, my contractor mate,Full Monty, as I told him the building was closing up, no work today, he had his crew with him, I couldn't resist one more dig. I told him he'd make the matinee for Phantom or fucking Cats if he got his skates on. There's a time and a place for everything. It was neither. I don't think anyone really picked up on it, but I did and I wish I never. Allan I'm not spell checking it, or looking it over for grammar, point I'm making, probably badly, is everything's relative. The story might not impress you, but it's honest and first hand and real and has no bravado or any BS. It is what it is. Dermot's story of that day story. We all have one.
You can see as many screaming interviews with people loosing their minds, watch the planes hit the building a hundred times over. I've lived in the UK all my life, I was 13 when it happened, after reading Dermots and Johnney's accounts, this is the first time it has felt real.
I bet Alan at the top of this thread is the kind of person who writes 'and how is this news?" on every news story on the internet. Do these people get paid for trolling? Is it profitable? It fucking must be. If you read something and it's not relevant or exciting or doesn't resonate with you in some way, just move along and read something else somewhere else. The internet is quite good like that.
Alan's trolling here might be the most effective I've seen lately. A single word "and?" has inspired 3 essays, fellow real life account and even got the editor and owner off their holes to have a go at this poor cunt. Top trolling
harrowing stuff, incredible piece
What happened to the suitcase?
Some genuinely wondrous work on behalf of the owner of this site, absolutely great content . http://ministerstwo-finansow.pl/
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