I was at work by 0800. I had to get out the thank you notes to dignitaries who'd attended the kick off to the Acquisition Week my office sponsored that had taken place the day before. Secretary Rumsfeld delivered a haunting warning as part of his keynote that morning. Our enemies are changing, and so must we. I was standing in the back of the Pentagon auditorium that morning as bored and blasé as the rest of my counterparts dealing with superiors. We were comfortable in our positions and we were confident that nothing could happen.
Most of my co-workers come in by 0830. Instead of concentrating on the cut and paste fiasco that was my thank you notes, I was online doing what I normally did: checking the news in Raleigh. A co-worker from my company, also a contractor came up to my cube: "Check CNN, a plane hit the World trade center." When I got to the site it had been overloaded in its user capacity. I told her "We'll just check it later." I remember thinking, "how odd that a plane could hit something like the World Trade center on such a clear day…"
When we still couldn't get CNN a few minutes later we hustled up to the big boss's office, the one where we knew they always had the news on. We watched in dumbfounded horror over and over again as they re-ran footage of the first plane colliding with the first tower and then while looked one we watched as the second plane kamikazed the second tower. We knew then that it was no accident. My co-worker turned to me and said, "We need to leave…now." "Why?" She had worked in counter terrorism extensively before she came to the pentagon, "We're a target" she'd said "A big, concrete, bulls-eye with a large highway leading up to it."
We left our superior's office and walked back. She had gathered her things and was waiting for me. I sent her ahead "Go on, I want to check the news one last time." I had kicked off my shoes and was engrossed in the Internet, when the building vibrated, blurring my vision and view of my screen. A sound like a college dorm-mate dropping something heavy on the floor above you rolled through the office. "What was that? Did you hear that?" an older lady, in the cube next to me popped over our screen. "Yeah" I said.
At that same moment, someone was screaming "Get out! Get out! The pentagon has been hit!" I grabbed what I could: my black canvas bag and tennis shoes and sprinted for the door. When I got out to the hall it was calm. Everyone was confused but not screaming or yelling in their hurried exit. The smell of smoke was just detectable in the air coming from the A corridor adjacent to ours. I linked arms with a lady from the Army office I knew and as we exited the building I will never forget what I witnessed: A cloudless, summer-blue sky turned completely black from the oily smoke emanating from the South east side of the Pentagon. It wasn't even a cloud, it was a long, snaking, twisting cape of smoke. It smelled like machine gone wrong: a combination of expended oil, burnt clutch and heat damage of metal on metal. Helicopters buzzed overhead and there were women being wheeled out in office chairs. But no one was screaming, or yelling. It was quiet save for the helicopters. Or maybe it was just me.
I dialed my mom on the cell phone. It didn't go through, I dialed everyone and couldn't get through. I walked to the end of South Parking, up the hill and my knees gave out. I sat with hundreds of other evacuees and stared at the South side of the pentagon. At some point I got up, deciding that I needed to call my mother and maybe the reception would be better on the other side of I 395. I sprinted through the pedestrian tunnel to the other side, dialed my mother and got her. "Mom? Mom! I'm ok! I'm ok." I hadn't cried up until then, but to hear my mom on the other side crying was more than I could handle. We both cried on the phone. I started getting phone calls from people. It seems the grid for out going calls was shut off shortly after the collision. I was lucky to get mine out at all. Dave was in Chicago, Andrew in Raleigh, Rudys in Turkey, Robby in St. Louis… these calls meant so much to me, thank you all. I found out from Robby what happened, a plane. A large plane. It hadn't occurred to me until this point that it had been anything, but a bomb.
I was going to go back via the metro but there were people flooding out coughing and saying that because of the smoke from the pentagon (the entrance was directly under the building, but has now been moved) they were shutting down the metro from L'enfant to crystal city. I just started walking after that. A lady I had worked projects with (Kathy, who ended up taking wonderful care of me) was traveling with me. It was nice to have a familiar face to attach to; I just followed her. The malls had closed by the time we passed by, all the corporations and banks and grocery stores all dark. We walked from the Pentagon to Crystal City looking for a phone for her and another lady we'd picked up to check in with their families. We stopped at the Rec center about a mile away and stood in line for a bit. Even from there, we could still see the column of obsidian smoke dispersing into the sky. I stood and waited for them outside and then the ground shook. Literally, shook like tread mill jolting to a start. This was the corridor 4 & 5 side of the building collapsing.
The ladies decided the line was too long so we continued on and stopped at a little church in a development of older homes. Mid-course we'd decided to keep to the neighborhoods and away from the larger buildings in Crystal City, just in case. At the church while they called I sat on the steps and noticed for the first time my heels were bleeding. I'd rubbed blisters during the kick off ceremony the day before and all the walking and running had made them raw. The pastor at the church led us in a prayer, and then Kathy and I left. The other woman stayed at the church because she'd found a ride with one of the office ladies. We walked all the way to Route One, traffic was snarled as far as I could see.
One of my coworkers was actually stopped at he corner of Rte 1 and 23rd so I hopped in with her hoping to get a ride to Old Town. I probably should have just walked; it took hours to get there. We watched a jet fighter escort a private plane into DCA with a mixture of fear because we were sitting on a bridge at the time and fascination because we'd never seen anything like it before. She dropped me off near my bank in Old Town because I thought that maybe it would be open. Yeah right. After I looked in my bag I had no ID, no wallet, only my checkbook and cell phone. My car was still miles away.
I walked around looking for a taxi, the streets were so empty. I had called my mom and she said to give any taxi driver I could find my watch to take me to my car. I would have had there been one, so I started walking to the Metro station, there had to be one there. On my way, I met the wife of a work/school friend. Thank you Renee and Dave. They took me in, gave me a beer, fed me and let me crash at their house for a few hours. They said I conked out on the couch for an hour but I don't remember that.
They gave me a ride to my car about 5PM, I drove to my house and left the next day for home. This is the story that my hometown newspaper wanted (I still want to know who the hell told them I was coming home) but I wasn't ready to go give. It's not so much interesting as it is my account that I wanted to tell.
Happy Patriot's Day.
Labels: Life
