September 11, 2001

To be honest, I was hungover when I woke up on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

The night before I had watched the New York Giants and play the Denver Broncos in the first Monday night football game of the year. I watched the Giants lose and watched Broncos Wide Receiver Ed McCafferty suffer a horrific broken leg during the game. I woke up that morning remembering how horrific it had looked on TV.

I left from my apartment in Arlington – three miles from the Pentagon – at around 8:20 a.m. and got into work a little before 9 a.m. On the way to work, I don’t remember if I listened to sports radio talk show or if I was listening to a CD. I know for sure that I didn’t hear anything about the events that were unfolding in America that morning.

When I got into work, my colleague Mark told us that a small plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. No one thought for a second that it dealt with terrorism. Still we went into a meeting at 9:30 and discussed during the meeting how nuts the news was.

By the time I got out of the meeting, we learned that a 2nd plane had flown into the Trade Center and another one had crashed into the Pentagon. Of course, we all knew then it dealt with terrorism. And the news instantly affected everyone in the office because of the Pentagon’s proximity to our office. The second we heard, I really think that all of us literally feared for our lives. We all wondered what would come next. Would a plane crash into the White House or Capitol? The CIA building was right down the street from us…Would something happen there? The scariest thing was the unknown.

So, for three hours, our small office sat in front of the radio listening to the news come in. I’ll never forget the face of my boss Alison when she told us that her sister heard a bomb go off in nearby Alexandria. In reality, I think it was the sonic boom of jets rushing to secure the U.S. airways. The entire morning was just surreal.

After hours of waiting for traffic to thin out around Arlington, I made the usual 15 miles trek home. Traffic wasn’t thin that afternoon though. As I drove down Glebe Road – a main thoroughfare in Arlington – a trip that usually took a half hour, took me three hours that afternoon. We were forced on numerous occasions to drive up on the curb to allow ambulances to get pass us on the way to the Pentagon. Traffic was packed and you could hear everyone tuned into the radio to listen to the news.

I got home after three hours and sat by myself in front of the TV watching the same images over and over. I was mesmerized. I was sickened. I was sad.

That day, as it did for millions of people, left an undeniable scar on my life. I didn’t know anyone who died in the Trade Center or the Pentagon. I didn’t know anyone on the planes that crashed. But at the time, I lived 3 miles from the Pentagon and grew up in the NYC area, so I felt as if I was somehow affected. To this day, I tear up when I think about that day. I can’t read anything about it. I’ll never watch movies about it. And I won’t watch it if it’s on the news.

Six years later, it’s still hard for me to look back and remember that day. I’m not sure when it will be easy.

Scars take time to heal. These scars are deep.