September 11, 2006
Reflections On This, the Fifth Anniversary of Nine-Eleven
Since I am a public figure, I am obligated today to do a piece entitled "Reflections on 9/11." And if I don't, all the 9/11 babies are going to stage a sit-in on my front lawn. So here goes.
(And me and Heather just had a big discussion because she thinks that 9/11 babies are the ones concieved right after the attack, and I think they're the ones whose fathers were killed in the attack while they were still in utero. We have no idea. Either way, the thought of a bunch of toddlers on my lawn fills me with Hitchcock-esque horror. But I digest.)
I work in the 'burbs, as you know. The Chicago 'burbs. My job requires no traveling, no training, no continuing education. Hell, it barely even requires a pulse.
But once upon a time, one of my bosses whom I never write about because I make it a point to have as little to do with her as possible, decided I should take an insurance basics class. Yeah, and people think the only atrocities committed that day were by terrorists. Insurance Basics Class!
The class was in some building downtown, and really, I'm, like, Amish when it comes to going into the city. "Trains? Transfers? It's east of what Tower? Jebediah, help!"
Thank God that Husband, then Fiance, took pity on me. Of course, I was still cooking dinners then and had just started doing his laundry, so that might have had something to do with it. He drove me right to the front door of the building and dropped me off, before going to his own building just outside of the Loop.
My building was some dark, ancient, low-ceilinged, windowless nightmare, smooshed between two newer, glossier, taller buildings. The plan was that I would call Fiance whenever I was done, and he'd come get me. If he wasn't done at work, yet, I'd just go hang out at his office until he was. Anything was preferrable to getting home on my own.
Driving into the city, we listened to our usual radio station. (Yes, we are old.) And that's when we first heard of the plane crashing into the tower.
My first thought was, "What idiot can't see a goddamn TOWER?!"
My second thought, and I'm sure Fiance's, too, was left unsaid -- If that wasn't an accident, this is some serious shit...
By the time he and I each got to our respective destinations, the second plane hadn't crashed, and the buildings had yet to collapse.
I found it hard to concentrate on insurance basics. I know, hard to believe the question of that plane crash could distract me from the differences between property and casualty, right?
The instructor called morning break, and immediately, we were all on our cell phones. A woman who had a voice message waiting for her was the first one to announce, "A second plane crashed into the other tower."
And there I was, in the shadow of the tallest building in the country. Yes, my first thought was of my own safety. My second was of Fiance. But the Verizon satellites were melting in orbit with all the calls being made, and I couldn't get through.
That's when the instructor made the announcement that Chicago was a suspected target, and they were evacuating the entire downtown area. Can you say P*A*N*I*C, boys and girls? I knew that you could.
I couldn't get a hold of Fiance, and I didn't know where the hell his office was, and I was being swept along in a stampede of people all headed in the same direction.
I had no fucking clue what to do. So I did the only thing that came to mind.
I swallowed my pride and announced to the surrounding crowd, "I need to get to Suburbville, and I don't even know where the train station is, let alone which train to get on!"
A woman immediately grabbed my hand and said, "I live two stops past Suburbville -- follow me!"
She might as well have said, "Come with me if you want to live." That's what it felt like. And I never even asked her name.
As far as we knew, another plane was already headed for the Sears Tower or the John Hancock. Or O'Hare. Jesus, most of my family lives within blast-range of O'Hare. And as we stood in the train station, on the constant brink of terrified stampede, it occurred to me -- wouldn't this be a good plan? Flood everyone to the train station, and then blow it up.
Frankly, I'm amazed at how quickly my new friend and I got on a train. I think the CTA did a great job, under the circumstances.
I still hadn't reached Fiance, but I left him several messages telling him what was going on and where I was and to get the hell outta the area already!
When I reached my stop, I happened to be equidistant from my apartment and my office. Easy walking distance to both. I kinda just wanted to go home and curl up on my couch with a blanket and hit redial until I got Fiance on the phone. I knew my boss would totally understand.
But even more, I just wanted to be around people.
When I finally spoke to Fiance that evening, I threw a raging hissy-fit at him for not leaving downtown (his office was just outside of the evacuation zone).
He's like, "But if they scare me away, then the terrorists have already won!"
And I'm like, "Yeah, well, I don't want to have to tell that to your daughters at your funeral."
That got him. Next national emergency, he's running like a sissy-mary.
One tiny little miracle did happen that day, though. See, normally, when there's any deviation from my usual life, I call my Mom and let her know. Yes, the umbilical cord has been cut -- I'm not one of those people. I just don't like Mom to worry if she's trying to reach me.
But, for whatever reason, that time, I didn't tell her I was going to be downtown. I don't know why. Normally, I would make a point of letting her know I'd be icognito for the day. But I forgot. And thank God I forgot because, if she had known I was being evacuated from a potential danger zone, she would have completely lost it, as any mother would.
As it was, she shed a couple tears of relief and that's it. People left work to go get their kids from school, and the office closed early.
Just figures, huh? The one time I have to go downtown for something, the world goes crazy, and they evacuate the entire Loop area. Just my luck.
And yes, I had to retake that stupid class.
And now I'm going to The Red Cross to make a donation to atone for this blog.
Comments
I *think* they are the babies conceived before 9/11 and born after their fathers died.
Posted by: Queen of Ass at September 11, 2006 04:18 PM
Wenchie, you should submit this to Heroic Stories:
www.heroicstories.com
because the woman that helped you on the train was a heroine IMHO.
-Lori
Posted by: Lori at September 12, 2006 12:24 PM