9-11, 2001: Tuesday

Wow. It's been 6 years. It was a Tuesday too, when I woke up on 20th St. East in New York City, brushed my teeth and wondered if I should head downtown to the huge Buddhist temple I passed by the previous day combing the streets of Lower Manhattan on my way to Liberty Island where the Statue of Liberty perched, overlooking the old Manhattan skyline where the 2 World Trade Center towers stood above the rest like fingers jabbing at the heavily overcast sky. Maybe I should even take the trip to the top of the towers which was said to give a sweeping view of the whole New York City. The things-to-do left over from a day cut short by torrential rain the previous evening, when Michael Jackson performed at Madison Square Garden.

The evening of Sep 10, NYC was assailed by a fierce thunderstorm. I sought refuge at Burger King upon my return from Liberty Island, and used the free Internet to my heart's content, replying to emails although I was scheduled to fly home on Sep 12. Little did I know that I'd be forced to stay put in the Big Apple for the week.

9-11, 2001: Tuesday started out cheerful enough for me. I took a leisurely walk toward Union Square, my ears plugged to one of the local radio pop stations. I was waiting for the guy to fix my croissant when I heard the breaking news - a plane had just rammed into one of the WTC towers. I remember sniggering that a dumb pilot must have lost control of the jet and caused the mishap. Within minutes, the second tower was hit, and then came reports of the the attack at the Pentagon and Flight 93 that went down near Pittsburgh. Even without the reporter telling me that it was a landmark terrorist attack, I knew I was eye-witness to one of the historic moments of my lifetime.

I made it to Union Square where a crowd had already gathered to watch the burning towers. That's about as far as we could get. Lower Manhattan was out of bounds by then. I remained rooted as I watched the towers collapse. All hell broke loose around me. Everyone was calling someone to report their safety. Then it dawned on me that I had better call my parents. I was travelling alone so they must be freaking out if they had the TV on. The telephone lines remained jammed till that evening so I just hoped my sisters thought of checking the email instead.

The following days, NYC was a ghost town. Of course, tunnels and airports were closed and everyone was advised to stay indoors and watch the news for further developments.

I was impressed by the outpour of compassion and generosity among New Yorkers. At one point, the hospitals had to plead for people to stop giving blood because the blood bank was too full and the bags of precious blood were going bad.

I chipped in for the dogs, the unsung heroes of the ensuing rigorous rescue efforts. I also attended several mournful masses at Union Square.

I managed to secure a seat on the plane for Sunday. Regretfully, I was going to miss my sister's convocation, which was on Monday. Coincidentally, my uncle and aunt from Beijing were there in NY too, on a half-year visit with the family of their eldest daughter. That weekend, they fetched me from the hostel where I was staying to their home in Brooklyn. That's the first time I met my cousin in person. I had a delightful time with them - going out to Long Beach and feasting on seafood - that the sadness embroiling Lower Manhattan which I had experienced seemed like an episode from a distant past.

I haven't seen them since. Neither have I been to Ground Zero since 9-11, 2001. I've dreamed frequently of returning before a new building goes up in its place (hopefully not something with a name as cheesy as Freedom Tower). Hope to realise the dream soon. My cousin's kid must be in college by now. Wow.