A Day to Remember

When my friend Tyler and I scurried onto the wood planks of the boardwalk and into the sun, I was in disbelief at what I saw. A crystal blue sky was the backdrop for the crisp four to six foot hurricane swell. The light northeast winds were grooming the peaks like a snow cat on fresh powder. It was a good a morning as I’ve seen anywhere in my travels. We couldn’t suit up and wax our boards fast enough. When we entered the water that morning, just after sunrise, the Gulf Stream waters were about 70f. We entered wearing only our board shorts, without so much as a chill. Considering it snows on that same beach in the winter, it was really impressive. On the beach, setting up their equipment, was a crew from New York’s Channel One news, apparently getting a shot for the morning weather segment. Maybe we’d even be recorded ripping up the waves!

After 2 hours of pure joy, Tyler and I jumped the LIRR back towards the city. Tyler was heading to a class in Manhattan and I was jumping off at Kew Gardens in Queens. Not the typical morning surf for this San Diego boy, but typical became a long lost word once I became a flight attendant for United Airlines.

As we left Long Beach behind and crawled into Metropolis, I felt like I do after any good surf. Salty skin... Anticipating a nice hot shower... Belly empty and ready for warm yummy meal... Post surf smiles and laughter. The joke was on all those poor fools taking the train into the depths of the city; their noses to the grindstone in order to pay for the huge spread in the Hamptons, the wife and all her upkeep and private schooling for the brats. So out of touch... The awakening would come too soon.

Jamaica station had just been called as the next stop when a cell phone rang. The man next to me took that call. He was quiet for only a moment and then he shared what the voice on the line had said. “A plane just hit one of the Trade towers.” “What was it a small plane like a Cessna,” I asked? The man relayed my question. “No, he says it was big, like a DC-10.” The implications of this didn’t immediately register. “I guess I won’t be going to work today,” the man said insouciantly. He was one of the lucky ones who were going to the office late that day. I wondered if my 1p.m. flight to Los Angeles would be delayed, still hoping to surf Malibu that afternoon on my layover. Incidentally, we all kind of joked it off, until Jamaica station came into view and in the distance a flaming monolith. It was approximately 8:50am, and the first 767 had hit Tower 1 just a few minutes earlier. We saw a ball of fire blazing from the tower roughly 15 miles away and instantly knew how serious the situation was.

When we reached Kew Gardens the train stopped. I said bye to Tyler and went for the door, but it didn’t open. I realized I was in car #5 and you had to be in the first four cars to exit at that station. As the train began to pull from the station, I ran for the next car forward. That’s when a minor miracle occurred. The train stopped, and I was allowed to exit (if you’ve ever spent time in NYC, then you understand). When I jumped onto the platform and headed back to my commuter pad, the gravity of the situation enveloped me. My knees felt weak, my head went spacey, and I began to sweat profusely.

When I arrived at my crash pad, I found no respite. Everyone was focused on the television set. The newscaster confirmed that a 767 had hit the tower and it was believed to be an American or United airliner. Another plane was also suspected of being hijacked. It was believed to be a United Airlines 767. It was heartbreaking news. I immediately called my parents but got the answering machine and tried to leave a message. I could not speak coherently. I called my sister and let her know I was OK. She hadn’t seen or heard the news, and barely understood what I was telling her. She contacted my parents and they got through to me before all circuits went busy. I tried to speak, but only incomprehensible sobs bellowed from my mouth. I told my parents I loved them, got off the phone and went back to the T.V. just in time to see United flight175 hit the second tower at 9:02:54 a.m.

Not knowing which of our friends was up there is a feeling I’ll never forget. A thousand knots wrenched my gut. Those of you early risers on the west coast watched in horror with us. And by the time the towers fell, most of the world was watching.

The weeks following September11th were lugubrious. The air felt heavy and colors were less vibrant. I swear I’m not being melodramatic. The whole of New York mourned. But amidst the gloom, I saw things happen in New York that I never thought possible. Complete strangers spoke to one another on the train and on the bus. They consoled one another, and cared about their fellow man. It was unfathomable!

When I finally got home, two weeks later, I can’t tell you how good it felt to see my family. I missed home so damn much. It also felt good to see how 3000 miles away, Californians were feeling it too. American flags, American flags, and still more American flags. Ok, at first it felt good, but then it got kind of creepy. It was as though “We” had developed a sense of Nationalism that could only be orchestrated by “der Furher.” I knew I was wrong though. I knew that we all had changed for the better and would never forget what had happened. We had grown closer as a nation and as a world. This brings me to the point of this reflection. What the f^@k happened?

I’m not pointing the proverbial finger. I’ve been just as guilty as the rest. Yelling at the moron in front of me to stop driving like a ninny, bitching because the line at the post office is too damn slow, and most of all taking the little things for granted, like health, friends, and family. The little things of course are different for each of us (I know people who can’t stand their family, or don’t have any friends), but life is so much sweeter when we focus on the positive. Anyway, the next time you’re in line at the grocery store and some old lady is counting her pennies and digging through her double coupons, remember just how bad “bad” can be, and think of all the good. Have a happy and healthy day, and thanks for letting me get this off my chest.