My memories of 9/11 will never fade.
I was in Washington, D.C., on a business trip and was scheduled to fly home to New York on Monday, September 10. Back then, there were shuttle flights every hour between Washington and New York. When I arrived at the airport, I was told that my flight had been canceled because of bad weather in New York. They told me to come back in the morning and take any available flight, so I got a hotel room for the night.
The next morning, on my way back to the airport, the taxi driver had the news on. That was when we heard that a plane had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
When I checked in, I asked the airline staff if they had heard what happened in New York. They told me it was an accident and that we would just fly around it.
While I was waiting to board, we watched on the television monitors as the second plane hit the South Tower. We all knew then that this was not an accident.
Suddenly, we heard a boom outside. Security came running and told everyone to evacuate the airport immediately. When I got outside, everything seemed deserted. The cars and pedestrians were gone. We could see the smoke from the Pentagon and smell it in the air.
We asked security, “Where should we go?”
“Anywhere. Just leave now,” they told us.
Luckily, I knew how to walk to one of the nearby hotels, and a group of people followed me. When we got there, the hotel staff seemed just as confused as we were, but they gave us food and water. Cell phone service was down, and the Metro had been shut down. All we could do was wait.
Eventually, I found a pay phone and was able to call my cousin, who lived in Alexandria, Virginia. Once the Metro reopened, I made my way to his house and spent the night there. I was also finally able to reach my wife and my mother. Neither of them had been in Manhattan when the attacks occurred.
The next day, my cousin drove me to Union Station so I could take Amtrak back to New York. By then, I just wanted to get home.
As we drove through Washington, we saw troops, tanks, and other military equipment in the streets. The smoke and smell from the attack were still there.
I got on a train and eventually made it back to New York. When I arrived at Penn Station, I just wanted to walk for a while. I headed uptown before getting on the subway home to Queens. Manhattan was filled with smoke, much like Washington had been.
When I finally got home, my wife and our baby daughter were waiting for me. We took our daughter out of her crib, lay down on the floor, and held each other. We stayed there together and watched the reports on television.
Twenty-five years later, there are things about those two days that I can still see and smell as if they just happened. But what I remember most is finally walking through my front door and being with my wife and baby daughter again.
My memories of 9/11 will never fade.