The morning the Towers fell, I was commuting from Brooklyn to my east midtown office building. At the time I was working as a staff travel writer – covering beats ranging from the cruise industry to New York – for a weekly trade magazine targeting travel agents.
At 8:46 a.m., while drowsily reading a novel on the R train, we pulled into the Cortlandt Street station, directly below the World Trade Center. The hours that followed remain so clear and surreal to me, even recalling them a decade later.
When the subway doors opened, it was chaos. The first plane had just struck, and debris was tumbling into the station from the street above. Hysterical people were bulldozing their way down the stairs and through the turnstiles. They were desperately trying to reach the safety of our train, which remained stationary with the doors open for five extremely long minutes. I stood helplessly in the threshold, watching in horror as half-crazed people ran up and down the platform screaming and crying. I didn’t know whether to flee or stay.
We eventually pulled out, and I arrived safely at work. I still didn’t understand what was happening downtown. Once at the office, my colleagues and I piled into the conference room and turned on a TV with fuzzy reception. It was there that we watched live as the first tower fell. It was impossible to digest that this was happening four miles away.
We were all dazed. I left the office around 11 a.m. with a co-worker, and we walked 40 blocks uptown and over to the UpperWest Side, where I spent the night at a friend’s apartment since we were unable to leave the city.
Mere days and weeks after Sept. 11, 2001, ground zero inadvertently became a major tourist attraction. Immediate demand to visit was so high, a 400-foot platform had been built for crowdviewing control.
As the New York editor, I felt it was my responsibility to acknowledge what was happening there. We had of course covered Sept. 11 and its effect on the travel industry, but we did not confront it on a more intimate level. My editor-in-chief kindly turned his editorial column over to me for one week in February 2002. Comparing WTC tourism then and now
I reread that column just before I wrote this one to get a sense of my mindset 10 years ago, as I thought it would be interesting to compare tourism to the World Trade Center site then and now. At the time, I was disheartened by the masses who came to gawk and rubberneck at the sensationalism of the incident. I strongly felt tourism there turned morbid and inappropriate; it was not a quiet, reflective place for victims’ families and friends who went seeking closure or a final connection. I personally couldn’t set foot downtown for many years.
But today I feel differently. As I witness the rebirth of the World Trade Center site and the transformation of the Lower Manhattan skyline, I find it remarkable that millions have come to pay homage here – whether as a local or international pilgrimage .
On my occasional trips into the city, I now feel pangs of excitement – as opposed to dread – when I drive past the cluster of ultramodern skyscrapers sprouting up along the West Side Highway. It’s a powerful juxtaposition: at once a portal to the heartbreak of the past, and yet an indelible symbol that we have endured, healed and are moving forward.
The time had come for a visit
Since it opened to the public on Sept. 12, I’ve been eager to take my sons to the National September 11 Memorial & Museum for an up-close view of these significant skyscrapers being erected during their lifetime. I have shown them videos of 9/11, but wanted to paint them a clearer picture. So my friend and I took the kids over Christmas break. On the day we went, the city was uncharacteristically empty. There was no line, and we moved effortlessly through security. On a normal day, I imagine the wait to be much longer.
If you want to visit, you must advance reserve free timed passes on the memorial’s website ( www.911memorial.org) and print them out. Guests will not be admitted without them. The entry point is on the northeast corner of Greenwich and Albany streets. Through March 10, hours are 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Mondays to Saturdays; from March 11 to Oct. 8, from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Mondays to Sundays.
First impressions
The memorial was elegant. It’s almost inconceivable that this airy, tree-speckled plaza was once heaped with debris and remains, and choked in the white soot of the disintegrated towers. It doesn’t seem like the same place. It’s incredibly moving to stand next to the two deep reflecting pools – with waterfalls cascading down all four sides of each square – set within the footprints of the Twin Towers. The names of the 3,000 who perished in the 2011 and 1993 terrorist attacks are engraved on bronze panels lining the pools. The official mission of the memorial is to “Respect this place made sacred through tragic loss.”
We only had access to the pools, the Survivor Tree (a pear tree that survived the attacks and was nursed back to health) and a close-up view of the construction on this 16-acre site. Later this year the museum will open. This large pavilion with a glass atrium contains remains of the steel facade of the North Tower. There will be a Wall of Faces of all the victims, and exhibits commemorating details of each person. Additional elements include five new skyscrapers, a transportation hub, performing arts center and retail space.
Since you’ll be in a spiritual mood, afterward I recommend heading around the corner for a stop at historic Trinity Church for a little serenity. You’ll need it. Visit www.panynj.gov/wtcprogress/index.html.