politburo diktat 2.0

We had an 8AM meeting so the boss could explain why several people had just been let go. After half an hour of standard corporate BS, we all walked out muttering about how bad things were. Then we found out how bad they really could be.

Within minutes of the first plane hitting, the news flashed on CNN.com and Yahoo News. Everyone switched to a news site; I called my wife at home to tell her to turn on the TV. She worked in downtown Manhattan at that time and happened to be taking the day off. She turned on the TV in time to see the second plane hit.

I’m not sure when it hit me that our lives had changed, that this was something big. Minutes after the second plane hit, our good friend Johanna, from the Upper West Side of Manhattan, called me. “If you need a place to stay today or tonight, come here.” I thanked her, but internally dismissed her concern as exaggerated.

When we heard that the second plane had hit, then it was clear that this was some kind of terrorism, some attack, not an accident. But I was still in denial, pointing out the 20th floor window, “See? No planes coming at us!” I had a 10:30 meeting with a colleague who had to come in from New Jersey, via the PATH train, under the WTC. I called her to confirm, leaving a message, “I’ll be here.”

Not long after 10:00, we were told to go down to the building cafeteria and await further instructions. As I left my office, I grabbed my briefcase, thinking, “The way things are going, those bozos [building security] won’t let us back in.” Down in the cafeteria, it didn’t seem like anyone was in charge and we milled around aimlessly and anxiously. Someone had a portable radio tuned in, and when the reporter announced that the South Tower had collapsed and that 50,000 people work in the WTC every day, then it finally hit me that this was something big. At that instant, it seemed that most of those people would have died.

Before 11:00 we were told to go home. Midtown Manhattan was confused to say the least. All the office buildings had emptied out. Many people clustered around some large TV screens on Park Avenue. To get home, I had to use Grand Central station, which was reported closed, then open, then closed, etc. I headed for Grand Central anyway, and there found a phone where I could get through to home, telling Elaine that I was fine and heading home when I could. Some outbound trains were still running at that time; one was scheduled to depart in about 10 minutes. My relief was short-lived, as an announcement boomed out that Grand Central was being closed immediately and everyone should leave. As the crowd of commuters headed toward the exit, one guy began running. I yelled at him to walk; the last thing we needed was a panicky stampede. He slowed to a very very very fast walk.

Thoroughly chastened and belatedly convinced that this was major, I headed for the Johanna & Stan’s apartment, four miles to the north. Obviously the subways were shut down. The streets were filled with incipient panic, people were queuing up at ATMs and grocery stores. In a crisis, everyone thinks to stock up on food, water, and ready cash.

It was a long walk along Broadway on the West Side. By early afternoon, I arrived at our friend’s apartment. Johanna, Elaine, and I had each tried to reach other on the phone, but lines were jammed. We watched TV, horrified at the events. It seemed to be getting worse and worse. We heard F-15s roaring low over Manhattan; I took some consolation in that, but thought …

“If you had told me yesterday that jet fighters would be flying combat air patrol over Manhattan and that I would welcome such a thing, I would have called you crazy.”

Read other recollections from Raging RINOs here.