The Road Back

A few weeks after the event I went to Ground Zero.  I will never forget the smell.   They were still spraying a building trying to get the smothering metal under control.   I remember seeing a large building that was totally destroyed, a mess, blown out windows, the structure was a calamity.   

I did not have a camera, I knew better, there was a couple that walked near me that did.   The people that guarded the site, not officials, just people that were there would shout out, “No Pictures.”  “No Camera’s.”  

 There was World Trade Center dust all over.  It had been a while and I thought it would be gone but the dust was still there.   I passed St Peters church, I had seen it on TV, dust was all over the church yard, I think more intense there than in the street because it was a ground no one walked on or drove on.   The church had an ancient rod iron fence and parts of papers were still entangled there, the papers I’d seen all over the TV. 

I remember walking by parking garages and cars inside were covered in dust, cars no one ever came for because they parked, they walked to work, and they never came back.  It made me think what if that happened to me, what if I hid a joint in the ashtray or something I would never want anyone to know I had.   The secret life, secret stuff that I would never tell anyone I had but I never came back, what then? Did an auto body shop tow the cars, then when no one claimed it did they empty it out and just throw away all that secret stuff?  Did they even know it was a secret?  They didn’t, it just got thrown away or if it was worth something it was pocketed. 

The cars left behind from the people that died hit me that way.  The smell hit me another way.  I was only there for a few hours and it physically took me days to get over that smell.   People were working there all day, every day.  I knew they would be sick and I am sure they knew but it was their city.  It was their job.  If being who they were killed them they did not care.  There was not a choice. 

 I remember seeing those pillars. The ones people said were crosses.  I learned someone I knew worked in the city that day and had to walk out over a bridge (Brooklyn?) with everyone else to get out.  She never went back.   A lot of people couldn’t either.   

 New York was in recovery.  There were some, very few, businesses open when I was there then  but I did see a light on (battery?) and some people inside.   Not the New York that it was but it was already finding it’s way back even though it was still burning. 

                I never cried.   When it happened, after it happened, when it sunk in, I never cried.   I cry now when the TV shows documentations of the incident but I remember I never cried then.   I thought at the time “Wow what is wrong  with me?  Why am I not crying?”   I think it might have been because I needed to be strong. 

                We were in Espana and just got back from the Prado Museum, my husband hit the bathroom I turned on the TV and saw a burning building.  I had no idea what it was cause the TV was only in Spanish unless you found CNN which was on just before you fell asleep at night.  I knew  why Larry King was so important because when you are in Spain or Italy or anywhere that English is not the language of choice Larry King was the real King.  

                I knew something was wrong, I changed the channel and it was on every station, so what was it?   A building in Spain?  It looked like a major city.  Where was there a major city like that in Spain?   We were in Madrid and it did not look like this, Barcelona?   Was that Paris?  No.   Brazil? No.  England?  No.  What city was that?    I found an English station and they said the World Trade Center.    My husband came out of the bathroom I said  “There is something going on.”  They reported a plane crash and did not report an attack.  It was an accident.  Some small plane hit the building and caused that much damage.  Wow, that was amazing a pilot flying in the city, maybe doing traffic reports or flying a rich guy to New Jersey made a mistake and hit the building.  Wow.  What a huge accident but a plane once hit the Empire State Building many years ago didn’t it?   My husband knew better.  I thought what a horrible accident, air traffic control messed up big time.  My husband knew better.   We sat on the edge of the bed.   What the hell was that?!!   ANOTHER PLANE!!   That was impossible another plane hit the other building!   What is going on?  Is air traffic control that stupid!  My husband knew better.  I was so confused.  How can two planes make a mistake that bad!  He said it’s not an accident.  They did not even say that on TV yet.   What?  I don’t understand.   He did.  That is when it hit me, it was war.  We were at war.  My husband said he knew it would happen and he hoped he was not away from home when it did.

                 We watched Ashlee Banfield reporting from there.   Ashlee is a hero and she is completely disregarded now.   Say that name, no one remembers her there.   I always will.   They started showing Muslim women overseas so happy and doing that freak thing with their tongues.  They were nasty and ugly and happy there was a war.  Who is ever happy about a war?  I hate those dirtbags.  I am usually a nice person, I get along with everyone, I can turn a person  who hates everyone and who everyone hates  into someone who likes me.  I hated those Muslim women. 

                Later we needed to eat and went to a local restaurant.   Americans are an obvious scourge normally, tonight the locals spoken in English and said “I am very sorry.”   The all said that.   Americans aboard are scum.  If you do not think so then you don’t  know the locals and only speak to tour guides and hotel concierges.   No really I am not making this up… you do not really know foreigners.  They were very sorry for out loss that was a big deal to me.   We ate, went back to the room.  Not sure how long but we stayed in an watched TV not much else for I few days.  Apparently I was the guy in the relationship cause I though well there is no way we’ll have sex now.   We didn’t.  

                I do remember some stuff, we went on a double decker bus ride one day, we went to Seville by taking the train from Madrid, later that train station would be bombed by people we may have seen at a local bar.  We would go to a live jazz -blues  clubs near the hotel  watch bands and hang out.  My husband said he noticed the Muslims in there and they weren't right.  It is possible they were the evil ones but I never noticed them at all.  

                 I thought we would have to learn Spanish and get jobs there because we could never go home, we would live in Spain.  I looked in the area at apartments and wondered where we would live, what jobs we could get.  I knew my companies CEO was in Paris on vacation so maybe we could find him and tag along, maybe he could get us all home one day.  I really thought I was now a Madrid citizen.  The world changed.   I was Spanish.   You may think this is stupid but if you were in Madrid on 9-11 you would not think so.  

                 As it turned out they let planes fly again.  Our flight back home was on the day they opened the airports again.  People who had tickets on that day fly first and the rest fly on standby. We had a flight home.  The security was crazy!  They were searching old people, and people no way had anything bad on them  for a long time, the questions were endless. Where did you stay?  Why are you here?  Where did you go?   Who do you know?   It went on and on but then they had to speed up the process and started letting sketchy people on not looking so hard.  My husband said he saw that coming.  No one was happy a terrorist might be sneaking in.

                We got on the plane, near the end of the flight a Muslim got up to use the bathroom…. I swear every single one of us on the plane stared at him, watched him, we were all ready to jump all over him, fuck that Muslim!  I’ll kill that mother fucker.   He only had to use the rest room, he sat back down, no problem, the whole plane sighed.  New York JFK.  Everyone looked out the window.  I was certain my car at the airport was covered in soot from the buildings.  We landed everyone applauded.  It was so great to be in America again. 

                In the airport everyone was so nice, it was soooo weird, locals spoke to us, “Welcome to New York”, came outta everyone.  New Yorker airport workers wanted to help us find our bags, our shuttle, anything they were just so nice.  We got the car, no soot on it , got on the road and signs were held everywhere from people on the street thanking and blessing the firefighters,  other things I don’t remember exactly but the intentions were something I will never forget.   I got home, wow what a trip that was.  I ordered a pizza.   After we unpacked I picked it up at what I thought was an Italian restaurant, but people were different now, everyone asked, ”Where were you?”   “Did you know someone there?”  “What do you think?”   “Man I really HATE George Bush but that speech with the firefighter was amazing, he is a great guy!”   The pizza place told me they were actually from Spain we now had a connection.   At work they told me everyone left early that day and picked up their kids from school out of fear, things over here were different, things overseas were different.   The world was different.  

And that was my 9-11.  I am grateful that was the worst, at the time I thought we were all going to get attacked in buildings, or on the street and it was going to be a bad war.   Not so bad to be living in the USA after all.