I was working in northern NJ, eleven miles from the city, and had just gotten in to work. I drove a beater at that time and the radio didn't work.
I got in at maybe a couple of minutes after nine and suddenly people were popping up from their cubicles going, "Did you hear a plane hit the World Trade Center?"
God forgive me because I'll never forgive myself even though it was a legitimate mistake, but I thought for a split-second that it was going to be a joke. "Did you hear the one about...?" My heart hurts every single time I remember that.
Then my husband, who was in California at the time but used to get up a little before 6 to be awake for the opening of the stock market every day, emailed me. He was talking about "the news" and how he was crying, and in the confusion exploding inside my office, I realized with a shock: This actually happened.
Then someone said, "A second plane just hit the other tower!" and for the first time I thought: Oh my God. This wasn't an accident.
Our AV people brought in a TV because the internet was a little sluggish back in the day and we all stood there, nobody sat, I remember that and I'm not sure why we didn't, and we all silently watched the news for a few moments and then my coworker said, "My father is in there."
Spoiler alert, he wasn't. He had stopped for coffee before heading into work. But for an agonizing hour, people tried and tried to call friends and loved ones and couldn't get through, and the looks on their faces. I will never forget it. Real grief and real helpless terror is nothing like the movies. I can't explain it but I'll bet a lot of people on here have seen this look on someone's face at least once.
Then we were all sent home since obviously nobody was going to be working that day. We were all in a state of shock.
My boss's friend died in I think the South tower.
My coworker's father was fine, as I said above.
For one month we didn't have to go into the city for product releases. Then in October it was, "You all are definitely over it by now. Go in and don't tell us how scared you are," so we went in. The first time I went into Midtown, my God. The smell. You could smell the burning smell. It was overwhelming. But people were all milling around, business as usual.
Around that time I got a phone call from a marketer who said she wanted to ask me some questions about the attack. So I was answering them and then she asked something along the lines of (can't remember the exact wording), "If the United States were to take military action, would you support it?" and once again: just shock. I must be very stupid. (Don't comment on that, please.) I had literally never considered such at thing. What the ****? War against who? How do you delcare war on terrorists who are already dead...
And I just straight-up said "No!" and she thanked me and hung up.
Also around that time there was this thing where people were supposed to light candles in those bags you put at the end of the driveway on one specific night to remember the victims of 9/11 and to salute the first responders (some of whom also became victims) and I walked up my street that night in the windy cold, looking at each lit candle and I cried. It was lonely and quiet and sad out there with the candles struggling in the wind. Probably dangerous too, given those conditions, but it was this awful/good feeling of, We went through this horrible horrible thing. But we are all together. We have finally, as a nation, figured out what's really important.
We didn't, though.