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 This is story 1 of 69 << FIRST < PREVIOUS NEXT > LAST >> Submitted by: Tony Shanks From: New York, New York (formerly Oklahoma City, OK)  Tony and Amanda - an evening at Arthur's in Hoboken, NJ, August 2, 2001 I go to Williams and John street everyday for work. I arrived at the WTC N,R station just as I do everyday, headphones on, listening to The Avalanches. It was a beautiful, clear blue , cool pre-fall morning. I felt the sonic boom go right through me, and then heard what sounded like a truck tire blowing out, ringing through the sandwiched buildings downtown, as I have heard many times before. I look up, and I see flames shooting out of the WTC #2, immediately followed by a stream of glass and paper, followed by several large, flaming pieces of projectile steel. It looked like a twisted parade. Shock took over, mixed with adrenaline. I, instinctively, along with everyone around me, ran like hell. I get to my office lobby area, two blocks down, and thousands of pink, white and yellow letter-sized memo papers are just raining to the ground, all 4 edges of each burned away. I get to the elevator, make it into the office, and everyone is on the 8th floor, gathered around 4 plasma screens, watching MSNBC. What I see on screen is just breathtaking. The World Trade Center Tower #2 is on fire. I stand in front of the screens in my office, watching what has been attached to my dream of being here for so long, burn away into the sky. I am in disbelief. I feel an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I arrived here in November from OKC, trying to follow my dream of producing and directing Broadway theatre, and my wife's dreams of acting on Broadway. I managed to land the job downtown after months of trying to get work during a time when the economy has been on a steady, slow decline. To say the least, I was thankful to get here and to finally be settled in after nearly a year of unpacking my boxed up two-bedroom house in Oklahoma into my Queens one-bedroom apartment. Six years ago, I wake up, turn on my television, and see what I assume is a movie. I realize it is the news. I then assume it is some small war-torn country. I then realize it is Oklahoma. It is about as blindsided a feeling I or anyone else has ever felt ... until now. As I stare at the WTC #2 smoke and rage, I slowly walk to my desk, while everyone stands around in COMPLETE disbelief. The thought of anything wrong has not yet hit us. I think, "wow, a small jet crashed freakishly, and acidentally into the WTC." I know I was trying to convince myself, but I had a deeper "feeling," a flashback. This was no accident. Nor was it over. I call my mother, my stepmother, my sister, a few close friends and let them know I am ok. My wife Amanda calls me, and I tell her to stay home in Queens. She calls me back, saying she cannot get a hold of anyone at her bookstore, and decides to come down. She can see the smoke from Astoria, but like myself, am in disbelief. I then get on the phone with my friend, George, in Oklahoma who works at the major newspaper in OKC, and who covered the OKC bombing heavily six years ago. I am telling him what I am seeing, and what I saw. As I am on the phone, I see and FEEL the second plane hit the WTC #1 Tower. My boss is on the phone with her husband, screaming "Oh God, Oh God!" as they try to track down her husband's father who works on the 54th floor of WTC #1. I cannot reach Amanda. It is at this point where I am starting to feel fear. What happened to WTC #1? Was that an explosion triggered by the first hit to #2? Was that a bomb? I never saw the plane, just the fireball. Then, the news repeats the captured footage of the plane actually hitting the building. We are STILL in disbelief, trying to make some sense of something so completely unfathomable. "This cannot be a terrorist attack. This makes no sense. Why? Who? What?" Then as we are listening to a woman give an account of what she saw, we see what looks like another explosion, as she begins screaming "O MY GOD! OH MY GOD." In the office, it feels like our building just blew up, the whole thing shakes. What was that? Was it an explosion? Another plane? A bomb? It is only as we make our way down the stairs and into the street, that I hear "The first one's gone down!" We run toward the South Seaport, hoping the tower was not still falling, and falling our way. Tripping, falling, we can see nothing but the inches of white soot on the ground. We run. Then, in probably the most fearful moment of all yesterday, we hear what sounds like an incoming jet. Are we under attack? Is that another jet? Are we at war? We run into the Mayor's building to avoid any more falling debris, and because indoors feels safer than outdoors at this point. I am shaking. Where the f*** is Amanda? I am overcome by the feeling I used to have as a small child when we would gather in the center of the house during a tornado, knowing that there was not a damn thing we could do but sit, play victim and pray we survived. It is not the kind of feeling one easily forgets. As we are indoors, the smoke begins to clear, and the sun peers through. I cannot get my cell phone to work. Then we feel the second tower come down. We see the second plume pour through the spaces between the buildings. More soot-covered people come in, saying "both of the towers are gone!". Again, a thick cloud of smoke leaves us in the dark on what began as a clear day. Once this second round of smoke and debris begins to clear, I make my way outside, and finally get through once more on my cell to George, asking him to stay with me on the other end of the line. He agrees. I ask him to please try and get in touch with Amanda. He does so. Just then, other people begin to stream from the building from which I just exited, saying there was a threat at the NYSE, which is only a few blocks behind us. We head toward FDR North. As we walk up the shore, by the South Street Seaport, I am amazed by the amount of people being orderly, people handing out water, food, offering restaurants and telephones as we single-file our way through Chinatown, headed Uptown. But I am still trying to reach my wife, as I learn the Queensboro Bridge is closed, and trains are not running. Where is she? Was the bookstore where she works evacuated? Is she safe? Does she know I am safe? Finally, one of the buddies I am with gets through to her pager via his text pager. "I am fine, please come to the bookstore so we can be together, love Amanda" is the message I receive. Three hours later, during which I am giving George a detailed account of what I am seeing via cell phone, I finally make it to Amanda's bookstore, and have never been more pleased to see someone in my entire life. I immediately felt safe. I get to a computer to let others know I am safe, and to ensure others are safe as well. All from my office are accounted for, and though i feel lucky to be alive, my life has been changed forever, as has the world. Thank you all for your prayers and support and your phone calls yesterday. Everything tastes just a little better to me today. The sky is blue. Tony
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