11:00am - At East River, NY. The storm is all fun and games. High tide... the river water is almost up to the wall's edge. We take pictures. And have fun in the wind.
7:00pm - In front of our building. It's still fun. Take some last pics/video of the day.
(2 sec vid... you can hear how windy it is)
8:20pm - After making a huge pot of homemade chicken and veggie soup, we sit down to dinner. The tv is on.
8:30pm - The apartment goes black. All our electronics click off. "NoooooooOOOOOO!!!," I yell.
8:31pm - Well... *sigh... dinner by candlelight it is. We pull out a couple candles and put one in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. The lighted candles do look pretty. We sit back down to finish dinner. Besides our chomping mouths it's eerily quiet inside the apartment. Through the windows we can hear the wind screaming through the neighborhoods. We hear a couple explosions. Transformers? Something metal that sounds like it's banging around. Scaffolding? Green lights light up the night sky over northern Manhattan... like random bursts from a fireworks show. I look over at the buildings across the way. Seems like everyone there still has power.
9:00pm - Our ears perk up. Muffled, unfamiliar sounds drift in from the hallway. Something is not normal. My face registers confused-clueless. C's face turns into warrior-Marine-code-red-I'm-about-to-kill-and/or-rescue-someone-in-two-seconds-with-my-bare-hands. A man's voice is yelling. Not crazy-person-yelling, but panic-emergency-yelling. This is not good. I hear pounding on our neighbor's doors. The yelling voice gets closer. Then the pounding is on our door. C swings the door open, but the man has already moved down the hall to pound on the next door. With our door standing open his yelling is translated into words, that are suddenly being processed in my brain: "EMERGENCY EVACUATION! LEAVE THE BUILDING IMMEDIATELY! THERE IS A GAS LEAK IN THE BUILDING! PUT ON YOUR SHOES AND GET OUT OF THE BUILDING!"
You know that ever popular getting-to-know-you question that goes something like, "what would you grab if you had 30 seconds to get out of your house?" And you stand there and think and go "Oh woww.. yeahhh.. that's suuuchhh a good quessstion." My answer has always been something like this: irreplaceable photo albums, external hard drive with pictures saved on it, some of my journals, our passports, our wedding video, etc., etc." But on Monday night, when that freakish moment came pounding on our door, all that mattered was survival. All I wanted to grab was C and then GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.
What did the guy SAY? What's wrong? What's happening? A gas leak? Is it bad? Do we have time to grab things? Should I pack a bag? Is the building on fire? Is something going to explode? Instead of time moving in slow motion, it seemed to skip a beat. I was sitting down eating dinner on one side of the room, then all of a sudden I was by the front door yanking boots on my feet and snatching my heavy coat from the closet. Everything in the apartment seemed to fade to gray.... the dinner left on the table... the chicken soup in the kitchen... my eyes darted around the apartment for something important to take. "Shouldn't I grab something else?! Should I grab pictures??!" I yell, as C throws on his shoes and runs for a flashlight. I race over to our futon and grab a pillow (wth??) and then snatch up my purse on the way out of the front door. Now I'm in the pitch black hallway-- without C. "Babe! Come onnnn!" C appears behind me-- w/ the flashlight (he's smart like that) and I don't even know if he locked our door and I don't even care.
"Let's go-- GO." he says to me as we make our way down the hallway. I can hear other neighbors yelling at each other and scurrying around and slamming of doors. Down the black hallway to the stairwell door then into the stairwell that was dimly lit with small yellowish emergency lights. And thus began the descent down 10 flights of stairs. The clatter of shoes echoed with each descending step. We said nothing. Just moved. My main thoughts during those 10 flights were:
1.) Don't fall.
2.) Are we going to make it out okay?
3.)We're gonna be fine.
4.) If we die, at least we'll die together.
5.) We're gonna be fine.
6.) Is this what it felt like to be in the stairwells of the World Trade Center? How many flights of stairs did they have to make it down? How did they survive those terrifying moments/minutes/hours?
7.) We're gonna be fine.
What did the guy SAY? What's wrong? What's happening? A gas leak? Is it bad? Do we have time to grab things? Should I pack a bag? Is the building on fire? Is something going to explode? Instead of time moving in slow motion, it seemed to skip a beat. I was sitting down eating dinner on one side of the room, then all of a sudden I was by the front door yanking boots on my feet and snatching my heavy coat from the closet. Everything in the apartment seemed to fade to gray.... the dinner left on the table... the chicken soup in the kitchen... my eyes darted around the apartment for something important to take. "Shouldn't I grab something else?! Should I grab pictures??!" I yell, as C throws on his shoes and runs for a flashlight. I race over to our futon and grab a pillow (wth??) and then snatch up my purse on the way out of the front door. Now I'm in the pitch black hallway-- without C. "Babe! Come onnnn!" C appears behind me-- w/ the flashlight (he's smart like that) and I don't even know if he locked our door and I don't even care.
"Let's go-- GO." he says to me as we make our way down the hallway. I can hear other neighbors yelling at each other and scurrying around and slamming of doors. Down the black hallway to the stairwell door then into the stairwell that was dimly lit with small yellowish emergency lights. And thus began the descent down 10 flights of stairs. The clatter of shoes echoed with each descending step. We said nothing. Just moved. My main thoughts during those 10 flights were:
1.) Don't fall.
2.) Are we going to make it out okay?
3.)We're gonna be fine.
4.) If we die, at least we'll die together.
5.) We're gonna be fine.
6.) Is this what it felt like to be in the stairwells of the World Trade Center? How many flights of stairs did they have to make it down? How did they survive those terrifying moments/minutes/hours?
7.) We're gonna be fine.
(our stairwell... pic taken later that week when lights were back on)
9:05pm - We burst through the 1st floor stairwell door, down the hall and out into the dark lobby, it looked like our neighbors were milling around everywhere, some just standing in the lobby, others heading quickly out the front doors. The manager of the building was yelling something (I couldn't hear all of it).. trying to usher people outside and AWAY from the building. "The basement is completely flooded..." "a wall caved in.." "two of our guys were stuck down there..." We keep moving forward and make our way outside. The wind is freezing and wet and whipping my hair (back and forth) (sorry) and I lean into C to keep from losing my balance. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Water from the East River has surged up to the sidewalk. It's right there. The East River is right in front of our building.
The wind is unreal. Where are we supposed to go?? Many of our neighbors are already making their way down the street in the wind and rain. C evidently snaps a picture for posterity and then we hold on to each other and start walking south... there is no north. Only water. As we head to the next block we are both thinking outloud who we can call who lives near our neighborhood. We know we know SOMEONE. Both of us drew a blank. We continue on and as we cross the first street I look to my right and see a huge tree right beside us, blocking entrance to the street running west, fallen limbs everywhere, even a tree that looks to be split in half has caved into an silver SUV. The ways it's crumpled up the SUV looks like it was made out of aluminum foil. There's no time to react. I just stare, and keep walking. The wind gusts into us and we duck into a building alcove to try and make a phone call on our phone. The wind is too loud. The call isn't going through.
Then up in front of us two big glass doors swing open and two men are yelling and waving wildly in our direction. Oh. I think they are yelling at us. They continue to wave and usher us to take shelter inside their building lobby. They looked like angels in uniform. We rush over and inside and the glass doors almost slam shut from the wind. The lobby is already filled with about 50+ people, and more entering by the minute. Most are on their cell phones... or trying to be on their cell phones. A sea of voices trying to get through to loved ones or request rescue. There are big dogs on leashes and little toy dogs on leashes and cats curled up in carriers. We make our way over to one side of the lobby and I sit down on the floor against the wall. "Who lives nearby?" We can't think. It's dangerous to walk far... we need somewhere close by. My attempted phone texts/calls aren't going through. We try to post a request on my fb wall. No good. C posts on his wall. It goes through. We sit. Watch. And wait. The apartment building manager (I think) stood in the middle of the lobby and began making an announcement. I feel very still. Like an animal, watching, waiting to run or to fight.
"Are you okay?" says C. He crouches down on the floor so his face is in front of mine. "Look at me. We're fine. We're gonna be just fine. We will find a place to stay." His reassurance is like a muscle relaxer. But with the tension on hold for a moment, I can feel the emotion sweep in. My chin crinkles. I nod "okay" to him and then shake my head to stop the tears.
The building manager here continues to speak. His voice is authoritative but kind. "Everyone, please.... may I have your attention!... Please quiet down!... We are doing everything we can to be of assistance. There are water bottles here at the front desk. Please let us know if you need medical attention and we will call 911. We have called 311 and requested cots in case some of you need to stay here overnight. We are also calling all of our residents here to ask if anyone has an extra bed or sofa that they would be willing to offer for the night. Please raise your hand if there is no place you can go tonight for shelter, or no one who is coming to pick you up." About a dozen people raise their hands.
Several men appear carrying chairs into the lobby to help with seating. Folding chairs. Dining room chairs. We look outside and see a couple struggling to assist a frail elderly gentleman with a walker. He looks like he might blow away. C and another guy rush out the front doors to carry the man inside.
"Excuse me, do you have a phone I can borrow?" Someone's grandmother with wind-blown, dyed black hair is leaning over me, wearing a red houndstooth pattern coat, asking to borrow my cell phone. "Of course!" I dig my phone out of my purse and offer to dial the number for her. I tell her that my phone signal has not been that great but hopefully she can get through. "It's my nephew," she says, "he lives in the city and he will be able to come get me." She opens a small worn address book (you know those little books we actually used to write addresses in) and points to a scribbled number. I dial the number and hand the phone to her. "Please take your time!" She thanks me and shuffles down the hallway to get away from the noise of the lobby.
Dogs have begun to bark at each other. C is texting people on his phone. Several have already reached out to offer us a place to stay but it's too far to go on foot. We agree if we need to we can sleep in the lobby or w/ someone from the building who offers. I realize I am still holding the pillow I grabbed from the apartment. It's ironically comforting.
I try again to send text messages to my family. I try calling my sister again. It's ringing! I get to talk to her.
And we wait. My stomach rumbles. It seems the soup I just ate for dinner doesn't want to stay in my body. Great. Another resident from the building-- a gentleman with an Indian accent-- is going around to individuals and asking them if they are okay and if they have a place to stay. He seems so nice. Checking on all these strangers out of compassion, not obligation.
C receives a message from a Marine friend, that another marine who lives in the neighborhood has said we are "to come over immediately." They live only a block away. THANK YOU GOD. We stand up and begin making our way to the lobby doors, but then I turn around run over to the building manager so I can shake his hand and look him in the eye and thank him for all they have offered.
And it's back out into the dark storm. Down that street with the fallen trees. C holds onto me and we lean into the wind. "Just keep swimming..." the song Dori sings in the movie Nemo replays in my head. Dang the wind is cold. Only one block. Only one block. I keep my head down and we walk. We are the only ones on the street. Across the avenue, we continue west. The apartment building is up ahead. A broad, clean-cut man in a fleece jacket and blue jeans is standing waiting for us under the building's outdoor light. He gives us both big hugs. Takes us inside and up to the 8th floor. They have power. His wife is there and she is the nicest person in the world. They pull our their air mattress for us and offer to make us hot drinks. I curl up on the couch with my pillow. They have a cat named Aristotle. He climbs up on the couch and decides to make himself cosy on C's lap. I look out the window and watch the dark night sky. I wonder about all the other people in and around the city. I wonder how bad the damage will look tomorrow. I reach over and grab C's hand and squeeze it tight.
It's 11:25pm.
