Ted
The pilot formerly known as Twin Engine Ted
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2007
- Messages
- 29,923
- Display Name
Display name:
iFlyNothing
10 years ago today was the beginning of my senior year of high school. Graduation and college was already on my mind, along with getting out of New York. I'd lived my entire life up to that point in New York City, being raised in Manhattan and going to school there. High School was at Brooklyn Technical High School. My high school had 5000 students, and had a beautiful view of downtown Manhattan, as the second tallest structure in Brooklyn. In that view included the World Trade Center. To me, the World Trade Center is what made the New York City view. Even though I didn't spend a ton of time there, they always stood out in my memory. From the ground, you would look up and seemingly keep on looking up endlessly, they were just that tall.
It was a perfect day weather wise. Not a cloud in the sky, and clear and a million visibility. Temperatures were a perfect fall day, and everyone was in good spirits, even for a Tuesday. I was sitting in room 5W15 for my English class, a room that faced the World Trade Center. My view of the towers was obstructed by the large heater in the room.
Looking out the window (why would anyone be paying attention in class on a beautiful Tuesday?) I saw a haze in the sky that didn't belong there. Somehow I just knew that there was something terrible that had happened, but I didn't want to know what it was. I knew that all too soon I would find out, and once I knew, I could never take back that knowledge. Furthermore, I knew there was nothing I could do about whatever happened, and the feeling of helplessness is even worse.
Not a minute later there was a girl in the back of the room who screamed, we all got up and saw both towers ablaze.
The following days and weeks felt like something out of a bad movie. For the rest of the day, we were told to continue attending classes. Nothing happened in the those classes, obviously, but we continued to go from class to class, and were let out at the normal time. The subways into Manhattan were closed, so I went to a friend's house in Queens until they were reopened. I'd never been on a subway traveling so fast, and my mother was never so happy to see me return home. That night, you could smell the destruction, even from my apartment 5 miles away.
The next day, school was canceled. I rode my bicycle down to Houston St., still far enough away that you couldn't see anything. Out-of-town police and the military were all over to keep order and do what they could. Recover efforts were underway, but they were restrictive as to who could participate - there were so many volunteers that they couldn't possibly let everyone down there, it would be chaos. Nevermind the looters and opportunists that would have (and probably did) steal remnants like grave robbers.
For months after, riding the subway past where the World Trade Center had once stood brought with it the smell of debris. A few weeks later when you could get closer, I went down with a friend of mine to see for ourselves up close what had happened. It looked like a war zone - dust and debris all over cars blocks away, and even though it wasn't a rainy day it was foggy down there. A normally loud New York City was always quiet down there for months afterwards. There were opportunists. People sold "I survived 9/11" t-shirts. I don't know how many sold, but I had an overwhelming desire to beat every one of those people senseless with a sledgehammer. I can't imagine they did well.
I didn't get on an airplane of any sort for years, and hated the very idea of them. Even when I started working for an aviation company, I had no desire to fly, it was just a cool job. Obviously, I changed my mind eventually.
I was fortunate enough to not lose anyone I knew, but my friends were not that fortunate. Some losing parents, others losing cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, friends. Everyone knew, directly or second hand, someone who died.
It is very hard for me to believe that it's been 10 years since that fateful Tuesday. So much has happened, and I remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday. Yet for something on the order of the past 3600 days I have woken up and fallen asleep, and now here we all are. I am fortunate to have had that ability to do so, as there are thousands upon thousands who have not had that ability.
I will not participate in any memorial ride, or memorial flight on this 10th anniversary of what happened (although I have done so in the past). Today and every day, I will pay tribute to those who died that day and those who have since fought to protect our freedom by exercising my freedom - freedom to enjoy my life, drink coffee with breakfast, and wine with dinner (or perhaps earlier, if I feel like it - I'm free to do so). I will spend time with my wife, because I can and I want to. I will fly when and where I want to fly, and I will drive or ride my motorcycle when and where I feel like it. I will talk with friends, reminisce, and raise a glass to those who no longer can. The terrorists won with me for a few years - I couldn't even hear an airplane overhead without my pulse quickening and looking for a place to hide. Today they have lost. I will not make any changes to my life out of fear - I will live my life as I see fit. Win the battle in your life - do the same yourselves.
It was a perfect day weather wise. Not a cloud in the sky, and clear and a million visibility. Temperatures were a perfect fall day, and everyone was in good spirits, even for a Tuesday. I was sitting in room 5W15 for my English class, a room that faced the World Trade Center. My view of the towers was obstructed by the large heater in the room.
Looking out the window (why would anyone be paying attention in class on a beautiful Tuesday?) I saw a haze in the sky that didn't belong there. Somehow I just knew that there was something terrible that had happened, but I didn't want to know what it was. I knew that all too soon I would find out, and once I knew, I could never take back that knowledge. Furthermore, I knew there was nothing I could do about whatever happened, and the feeling of helplessness is even worse.
Not a minute later there was a girl in the back of the room who screamed, we all got up and saw both towers ablaze.
The following days and weeks felt like something out of a bad movie. For the rest of the day, we were told to continue attending classes. Nothing happened in the those classes, obviously, but we continued to go from class to class, and were let out at the normal time. The subways into Manhattan were closed, so I went to a friend's house in Queens until they were reopened. I'd never been on a subway traveling so fast, and my mother was never so happy to see me return home. That night, you could smell the destruction, even from my apartment 5 miles away.
The next day, school was canceled. I rode my bicycle down to Houston St., still far enough away that you couldn't see anything. Out-of-town police and the military were all over to keep order and do what they could. Recover efforts were underway, but they were restrictive as to who could participate - there were so many volunteers that they couldn't possibly let everyone down there, it would be chaos. Nevermind the looters and opportunists that would have (and probably did) steal remnants like grave robbers.
For months after, riding the subway past where the World Trade Center had once stood brought with it the smell of debris. A few weeks later when you could get closer, I went down with a friend of mine to see for ourselves up close what had happened. It looked like a war zone - dust and debris all over cars blocks away, and even though it wasn't a rainy day it was foggy down there. A normally loud New York City was always quiet down there for months afterwards. There were opportunists. People sold "I survived 9/11" t-shirts. I don't know how many sold, but I had an overwhelming desire to beat every one of those people senseless with a sledgehammer. I can't imagine they did well.
I didn't get on an airplane of any sort for years, and hated the very idea of them. Even when I started working for an aviation company, I had no desire to fly, it was just a cool job. Obviously, I changed my mind eventually.
I was fortunate enough to not lose anyone I knew, but my friends were not that fortunate. Some losing parents, others losing cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, friends. Everyone knew, directly or second hand, someone who died.
It is very hard for me to believe that it's been 10 years since that fateful Tuesday. So much has happened, and I remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday. Yet for something on the order of the past 3600 days I have woken up and fallen asleep, and now here we all are. I am fortunate to have had that ability to do so, as there are thousands upon thousands who have not had that ability.
I will not participate in any memorial ride, or memorial flight on this 10th anniversary of what happened (although I have done so in the past). Today and every day, I will pay tribute to those who died that day and those who have since fought to protect our freedom by exercising my freedom - freedom to enjoy my life, drink coffee with breakfast, and wine with dinner (or perhaps earlier, if I feel like it - I'm free to do so). I will spend time with my wife, because I can and I want to. I will fly when and where I want to fly, and I will drive or ride my motorcycle when and where I feel like it. I will talk with friends, reminisce, and raise a glass to those who no longer can. The terrorists won with me for a few years - I couldn't even hear an airplane overhead without my pulse quickening and looking for a place to hide. Today they have lost. I will not make any changes to my life out of fear - I will live my life as I see fit. Win the battle in your life - do the same yourselves.
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