I just want to thank everyone for sharing your stories and memories.

I live a mile from Barksdale Air force Base,I was geting off work at the casino
the road that goes to the base is the main road to my place it took me for ever to go two miles to my house.The police stoped cars and checked ppls drivers licences..my raido was busted so I still had no idea what was going on.When I finaly got home I turned the tv on I was shocked at what happened...just then the second plane hit the other tower...I couldnt move,talk or anything else.My pup climbd in my lap and just sat there with a sad look on her face..The base was on full alert..scary it was to think maybe it could happen hear too..

At work when one of my Project Managers yelled down the hall that they heard on the radio that the "Towers just fell"... from that, everyone swarmed into his little office to listen... in shock and disbelief. As the radio cut out with static, I honestly didn't believe what I was hearing... I was in an Orson Welles fog as if I was listening to his 1938 The War Of The Worlds.

At lunch, I rushed home to watch the news...Watching the planes hit and then the aftermath shook me out of that Orson Welles fog. While sitting there, my old boss from the camera shop called and told me that one of our dear friends were among the missing at the Pentagon. I was in so much shock that I didn't cry or grieve for some time. To add, my sorrow, shock and "flight" response to the news about the plane in Shanksville (not far from where my son was living and from an old family homestead).

I still have a lot of unresolved feelings, grief and PTSD from that day. It's still hard to talk about or express. It still makes my chest tight.

:candle: :candle: :candle:

I was driving to my office in downtown Lansing. I worked for the state Legislature at the time, and had a nice corner office on the top floor of what was, at the time, the second tallest office building in this cow town.

I was just pulling in to the parking lot where I parked and listening to NPR. An announcer came on at the tail end of the news and said something about a plane hitting the World Trade Center in NYC. But they didn't have a lot of details. It was 9 a.m. and the BBC News would always come on at that time on the NPR station I listened to every morning. So, as the BBC came on their presenter was in hysterics on the air about the WTC being hit by a jetliner. WTF? I walked quickly the 4 blocks to my office building, went up to my office and flipped on CNN. I had a small TV in my office to monitor news broadcasts. Several of my colleagues started gathering, and we watched the news until about 11 a.m. That's when they evacuated my building because we were one of the tallest buildings (and chockful of politicians) in the city. My partner at the time had already called me begging me in tears to come home. I left with the rest of my staff.

When I got home, we spent the entire day watching the news. We watched the news for the next several days non-stop. I remember by that Saturday, I couldn't take watching the news anymore. And that's saying a lot because I am a total media junkie. The story that really got to me was the one about the woman trapped in the restaurant at the top of the towers, calling her husband in San Francisco and leaving him a message on their answering machine because he was sound asleep. They played the message on CNN and the fear in her voice coupled with the total devastation on his face...that really got to me. They were young, only married a few months, I think. That Saturday, I went birdwatching. September is not the greatest month for birdwatching in Michigan, but the air was crisp, the day was sunny and I needed to be outside. The nature area where I went birdwatching was completely empty of people. Planes would fly over me, and I would stop and look up at every one. It took me months to stop that behavior.

On Sept. 12, my partner and I went out to dinner. We made it a point to go to our favorite Middle Eastern restaurant in East Lansing. We were saddened to read a note on the door that the owner put up saying, yes, he was Muslim, but he was appalled by the terrorist attack. We made sure we ate there once or twice a week for several months. We didn't want him to go out of business (he's still open today). I remember being in Detroit a few times for work in the months after 9-11 and sensing the anxiety in the city, which is home to the largest Middle Eastern population outside of the Middle East. All the talk of "sleeper cells" in Detroit and being stopped for "driving while Muslim." Scary times.

This past June, I had the honor of visiting the WTC site and the 9-11 Memorial Center in NYC while I was there on vacation. What a poignant and powerful place. I wept in the memorial center, in the room filled with photos of all the people who died. The enormity of it all is what stays with you, I think. Even when you are far removed from NYC, living in Michigan, that day and the aftermath are so indelible.

Jake

I worked for US Airways at the Little Rock airport at the time and was 5 hours into what would end up being a 70-hour shift.

I was in my office closing out a flight when one of my baggage agents came screaming through the back door. His name was Herman. He was big and he was crying like a baby.
I jumped up out of my chair and started yelling for him to tell me what was wrong when the phone rang. It was air traffic control telling me to close the counter, close the gate, close everything. My other line was beeping and it was corporate telling me that "Someone is blowing up New York City" and to shut it all down.

I walked out to the ticket counter and the airport was buzzing with people on their cell phones, people holding laptops. Loud speaker announcements. Every TV tuned in. I saw the second plane hit on the ticket monitor above my head. People were screaming. Sirens were sounding.

I heard a loud crash at the back of the ticket office and ran through the security door to see what it was.

"My MOM is in New York City for a conference." It was Matt, one of my gate agents. I remember how white his lips were, I think he was in shock.

I barked orders for the next 5 hours.

Get these people a blanket.
No, you can't use the phone.
We aren't rebooking anyone.
Close the baggage door.
Call pilot control.
Get me every bag of chips and sandwich you have from the planes and give it to these people.
Find this lady's bag.
Call this gentleman a cab.


We had 140 people standing at our ticket counter wanting to be rebooked, wanting to cancel flights, wanting to know what we knew.
The printer was shitting out messages at a furious pace.

"Flight 112, Cancelled."
"Flight 73, Cancelled."
"Flight 3306, Cancelled."
"All flights cancelled until further notice."
"Airport closed"
"Reservation center closed"

I stood at the ticket counter until 10am the next day helping people. 25 hours solid with only 3 short bathroom breaks. When my body finally revolted, both of my legs cramped up and Herman, who was also still there, had to help me walk back to my office.

I slept for 2 hours and went back to work.

They closed the airport and we all waited, watched tv, and tried to call everyone we knew to see if they were ok. I ended up being on shift for 70 hours before running out for toilet paper, drinks, and deodorant for our people working there.

I slept on a tiny loveseat in my office all that week.

I remember people's faces so clearly. Scared shitless. Shock. Anger. Despair. It was fucking palpable.

Even as I write this, my heart is beating fast so I can't even imagine the level of trauma and fear that those poor people felt. It was all so senseless. So hateful.

Such terrible things we human beings do to one another.

June insisted on watching the end of Bicentennial Man (terrible Robin Williams movie) when we got up that morning, otherwise, I would have been watching CNN at the time the second plane hit. She was in the shower when I switched to CNN, and I remember being really confused about what I was seeing, and the commentators still weren't sure, either. And later, after watching the towers fall, we left the house believing that ten thousand people or more had just lost their lives on national televison. It seemed wrong to be going to work, but we didn't know what else to do...

A co-worker left the office sobbing that afternoon when he found out his cousin had been on the first plane...

A couple of days later, June said we needed to get a flag, and I understood the sentiment behind it, but I also knew that jingoism was just around the corner. She knew it, too -- we didn't get a flag. We both feared the backlash against Muslims in this country, and sure enough, the hate crimes began before the week was over.

After the fog of the first few days lifted, I knew that our "leaders" finally had carte blanche to do whatever they wanted in the name of revenge, justice, and patriotism. And nine years later, they still do...

I did too and did get a sense of well-being with how people were interacting right after the attack. I wish we could find that place of solidarity and community again and use it to unwind the present negativity. How I remember the FDNY, and other stickers cars had on them all over the country as a way to tell New Yorkers we were here for them.

I was in Barcelona, visiting the Olympic Village. The news was playing on a TV at the coffee shop, but no one in the place spoke both Catalan and English, so I couldn't know for sure what was going on. I eventually found out.

It was Catalonian Independence day and high tourist season, so the air was festive, and the attack was taken there the way we take in any tragedy that happens outside our borders - watch television for a bit and then move on. I traveled on, meeting many sympathetic travelers from many countries and of many faiths. I spent evenings at my hotel in Paris talking with the Muslim night clerk..his perspective was enlightening, his fear of retaliation very real and very raw.

I didn't return to the US until the media hysteria had been usurped by plans for unfounded wars that would kill even more Americans and tens of thousands of other people and suck billions of dollars out of our economy and lead us to the devastation that we face today. While I understand that the grief is very real for those who lost people on that day and for New Yorkers, and I do respect that grief, for me the loss of tens of thousands of lives in unjust war, the hateful rhetoric being spewed by conservative christians toward Muslims, the ongoing health and financial battles of first responders and victims relatives, the loss of jobs and homes and dreams and lives from the financial ruin brought about by the sucking of billions of dollars out of our economy and in to Friends of Bush accounts in Dubai is also tragic. The few thousand lives lost on that day in those towers are the tip of the iceberg.

I was in London.
I had just returned to my office from my lunch break and was scanning the news on various websites.

When I saw the news flash up that a passenger jet hit the WTC, I knew it could not be an accident. Of course, it was only a few moments before the horrors of the day unfolded.

I worked for a fringe theatre company in south London, we were an incredibly diverse group of people from all over the world - I remember all of us (about 30 people) crammed in to the tiny box office watching the only television that was able to pick up an external signal. No sound or words, except the broadcast & sobbing. I sat there for hours.

Outside it was a cacophony - helicopters and police and emergency response vehicles flying through; our site was with less than a mile from Parliament & very near to the MI-6 building; roads were closed down. Traffic was more jammed than normal.

But, I remember the *complete silence* on the tube home that night. The silence of 1000s of people is - immensely poignant & a lot unsettling & exactly how it should have been.

Daymare
 

I was getting ready for work and I never ever put the tv on, but
this morning, for some reason, I did. I watched it happen.
I thought, "Okay, I'm dreaming, this is a dream". It was SO eerie
(I live right across the river from Manhattan). I pinched myself.
It took me a looong time to admit to myself I wasn't dreaming.
The shock lasted for days, depression for weeks.

I had to spend a lot of time helping my sister through her own
trauma from this event.

My sister, a psychotherapist was working in an office in Jersey City, her and
her colleague could see the towers from their office window. My sister told me,
"We both got down on our knees without a word and started praying, we watched and prayed".

For days after, she had clients with severe post traumatic stress. The worst case, she had, was a woman who saw ten Arabic men on a a Jersey City corner on September 10 chanting, 9-1-1, 9-1-1, and shouting hurray! hurray! and holding up two-finger victory signs. This was the day before!! It took the witness years to get over the guilt of "I should have said something to someone". While the towers going down saddened and shocked me, this info sickened me. I know now that the mosque where the event was planned was in Jersey City.

I'm Arabic myself, although with a Christian background. The Arabic language is like sweet music to my heart. I felt betrayed in a way I can't describe.

I was heading into my office in Brooklyn, where we can see the towers from our hall windows, when a colleague met me at the door and said -- there's been an accident -- a plane has hit the world trade center. I knew instantly that it was not an accident, (the WTC had been targeted before). I called my son's dad immediately to determine he was safe at school, then started calling others. We watched things unfold on TV, our computers, and out the window. When I saw Tower 1 collapse, I ran to retrieve my kid and head home to try and contact family and friends. It was a terrifying and disorienting day. The city was silent - no planes, trains or cars. Even in Brooklyn, the air was thick with paper and ash and the smell was like no other. I was totally numb.

I lost 3 people I knew that day including the father of my son's best friend. The firehouse in my neighborhood lost 11 firefighters.

It feels insignificant to say that I remember and mourn. We are still recovering from the trauma. Sometimes I wonder if we ever will, and if some of the horrors I see happening around me are a result of collective trauma.

Heart (broken)

I had just arrived at work and my ex called me..I thought it was all bs..Im a new yorker born and raised..and all I kept saying was..do you know how tall those towers are ? a plane can not miss that!..I thought it was a mistake..until my boss who knew my sister worked in the south tower on the 83rd floor, stood in my door with a look of horror on her face..I hung up the phone and she offered to drive me home..I tried frantically to call my sister..but all it told me was..'all lines are busy"...as soon as I got home..I turned on the tv..and saw the 2nd plane hit..I then knew it wasnt a mistake..my dad called me and asked if I heard from jackie (my sister) of course I didn't...my kids had not left for school yet..and I stared at my son..I knew when he was 18 he would be fighting in a war because of this event..I was numb...it took 2 days to get the news that my sister who took the express bus from Staten Island to NY never made it to work that day because her bus got a flat tire....

it changed so many lives that day..my son has done 2 tours in Iraq..and he is not the same man...his life was changed forever that day.....