remembering

the 9/11 anniversary always makes me uneasy. i'm sure it makes many people uneasy. between mourning those we lost and feeling on edge about another attack (and being outraged that Bin Laden is still out there making tapes) - it's not the sort of day anyone looks forward to.

but my uneasiness stems from the fact that i wasn't in the city on 9/11. in fact, when the planes crashed into the towers, i was in the Magic Kingdom. Mikey and i had gone to Disney World to celebrate our first anniversary, and we didn't know anything at all about what was going on back at home until we arrived via monorail at the Contemporary Resort, where we saw throngs of people standing around the lobby televisions. i'll never forget the moment when i saw the image on the screen, and beneath it: WORLD TRADE CENTER COLLAPSES. in fact, everything had already happened - including Flight 93 crashing in Pennsylvania - and it was too much to take in at once. i don't think either of us completely processed that moment for days.

our cell phones wouldn't work, obviously - all the lines were tied up - and there was a wait at the bank of pay phones in the resort lobby. i was trembling, i'm pretty sure Michael was, too. somehow we got through to our families and confirmed that everyone was safe. and then we went and had brunch with Mickey Mouse. that's what we had planned for that morning - a character breakfast, just for fun. just because. and so we sat there as Chip and Dale and Pluto and Mickey pranced around, and numbly pushed waffles and scrambled eggs into our mouths, not even fully aware of how life had just changed forever.

they closed all the Disney parks shortly thereafter, and so we rode a bus back to our hotel. i remember a man on the bus - he was from Boston - said, "it was Bin Laden, i know it." i had heard the name before, i had a vague notion of who he was, but chills went through me when i heard the man from Boston connect his name to what i'd just seen on television. later that afternoon, between watching all the coverage in the room and sitting at the outdoor bar getting drunk with the rest of the guests, we were laying on chaise lounges by the pool, trying to relax. i stared up at the vast, pristine sky and felt utterly terrified - like something bad could happen at any moment, with no warning. it was an awful moment, the realization that we were never safe.

but the worst moment came later, when we found out that Mikey could have been at the top of the North Tower that morning. if we had been in New York, he would've been working up there. the guy filling in for him was killed. i was beside myself when we got the news, because i had tried to convince him that we shouldn't go on the trip. we weren't exactly rolling in it back then, we were both a little stressed about money and our jobs, and i told him it would be fine with me if we canceled it. but he assured me that it was OK, that we deserved a vacation, and so we went.

i still often feel haunted by the whole thing. sometimes i wonder what life would be like now if he'd listened to me. how i would've felt on that day, how many people's lives would've changed. it's a dumb game to play, but it makes me emotional. and pensive. it's just another one of those stories - there were so many of them on 9/11 - near misses, twists of fate. is life really that random? is there a rhyme or reason for these things? i suppose in the end it doesn't matter, in the end what happened happened and six years later we're still unable to make sense of it.

we were stranded in Orlando for almost a full week after 9/11. even after planes started flying again, it was impossible to get a flight. we thought about taking the train, but that somehow seemed scarier. we spent several surreal days wandering around Disney World, at moments relieved to have a mental escape, at other moments feeling utterly out of place. we arrived back in New York exactly one week after the attack. my father drove us back to the city from Philadelphia, and i remember seeing the skyline for the first time, from the New Jersey Turnpike. it was still smoky - and horribly empty.

back in Brooklyn, we walked down to the promenade - along the way stopping to read the endless fliers and posters and "missing" notices tacked up everywhere. it was wrenching. you could still smell the smoke in the air, and down by the promenade the smells were much worse; they were harrowing. makeshift memorials were set up everywhere - flowers, candles, photos, letters, stuffed animals, rosary beads. a child had written in chalk, right there on the surface of the promenade, "i love you daddy." i broke down. it was a relief to be back in New York, but also incredibly painful, incredibly real.

last year, on the fifth anniversary, i stepped out of the subway at West 4th and a few seconds later the nearby church rang its bell, just four times. it was eight-forty-six in the morning, and i shuddered. it was an especially rough day last year, i think because i made myself watch the coverage on CNN Pipeline - they were showing their broadcast from that morning in 2001 in real time - and my stomach was in tatters but i kept watching. i don't know why. i think maybe i still couldn't believe that it had happened - and what almost happened to someone i cared so much about. and that it could've been, in some way, my fault.

the anniversary seems more low-key this year - but it's still very much on my mind. the morning we left for Orlando - i think it was September 7th, 2001 - i took a cab from my apartment on the Upper East Side to Brooklyn. we drove along the FDR and i remember gazing at the World Trade Center, glittering in the early morning sun, and feeling so grateful that i lived in such a beautiful, amazing city.

now i am so grateful that we left it that day.

mb