Thunder Dog - Michael Hingson [58]
Then from outside someone shouts, “It’s the Air Force! There are jets on patrol.” The entire restaurant bursts into applause. For the first time in hours, I feel safe.
12
A BRUSH
AND A BOODA BONE
My only concern was to get home
after a hard day’s work.
ROSA PARKS
We hitch a ride to Nina’s apartment in midtown with some people in a van. They don’t speak much English, but when they see us, they know what we have been through and are eager to help.
We hit the buzzer at Nina’s building a few times, but she doesn’t answer. Grimy and exhausted, we sit in the lobby and wait. Roselle slumps down between my feet and immediately begins to snore. I wish I could join her. It’s about one fifteen in the afternoon.
Thirty minutes later, Nina arrives, loaded down with grocery bags. She had been out shopping for food for us. The stores were packed with people in a panic, buying up everything they could find. Roselle perks up and wags her tail, happy to meet someone new. We head up to the apartment and sit down. Nina turns on the radio for us then heads into the kitchen to unpack the groceries. For the next couple of hours, we eat, watch TV, listen to the news, and talk. Like the rest of the country, we try to make sense out of something that ultimately makes no sense.
After a while, David pulls his laptop out of his briefcase and begins to write down what we’ve experienced today. I left mine in my office in the World Trade Center. It is now part of what the reporters are calling “the rubble.”
I want to go home but lower Manhattan is still being evacuated, and the mayor tells everyone else to stay put. Everything is shutting down, including the trains and buses. Many airports have been closed, and incoming overseas flights are being diverted into Canada. The borders have been closed.
President Bush announces that U.S. Armed Forces around the world are on “high-alert status” and that all appropriate security precautions have been taken: “Make no mistake, the United States will hunt down and punish those responsible for these cowardly acts.”1 The Pentagon announces that warships and aircraft carriers are moving into strategic positions around New York and Washington, D.C.
As I listen to the news, above all it’s clear that thousands of people have lost their lives. On an average workday, 35,000 people are in the World Trade Center towers by 9 a.m. Estimates of the number of casualties fluctuate wildly, but later it will turn out that on September 11, each tower held between 5,000 and 7,000 people.2 The lighter number is perhaps due to the early hour and the fact that the date coincided with Election Day as well as the first week of school. We won’t find out for weeks, but eventually authorities will put the number of people who died in the attacks on the World Trade Center at 2,825 people.3
By the grace of God and my guide dog, I am not one of them.
A voice mail alert pops up on my cell phone. Karen has called, leaving a message that a friend of ours has made it home to New Jersey by train from Manhattan. After some debate with David and Nina, I decide to try to go home. David’s plan is to head to a friend’s place on the Upper East Side. If I can get to Penn Station somehow and if the trains are running, I can catch a train to New Jersey. If it’s at all possible, I am confident that Roselle and I can do it. It will be nothing compared to what we have been through.
After thanking Nina for providing a safe haven, we start our journey home. David, Roselle, and I walk a few blocks and then make a happy discovery: the buses are running, and there is no cost. We hop on a bus to Thirty-third Street and Sixth then climb down and walk a block to Penn Station.
It’s 5:30 in the evening when David and I say good-bye.