The individual experience of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon are all the more poignant because they put a face on the experience, bring it down to the minute by minute we should have known had we been there, and make us realize that this didn't happen to buildings. It happened to people. This page has been set aside for first hand accounts.

A Survivor's Story

The story below is presented in two parts. Part one represents the first hand account of a survivor of the World Trade Center attack. Part two represents the account of a friend who stands with the victim in the aftermath. Do not mistake that both have been affected. Names have been replaced with initials as request.

Part One.

I worked on the 89th Floor of 1 World Trade Center. Yesterday morning I arrived at my office at 8:15 a.m. I proceeded with my morning routine, putting on the coffee, checking voicemail, going online and turning on Yahoo pager. I believe J. was the last person I chatted with (around 8:35 a.m.) before this whole tragedy, but I honestly don't remember. A few minutes later the entire front of my office, where I was sitting, blew up and the entire building swayed back and forth. Flames, smoke, and debris from the ceiling, covered the entrance of the office. There were four other people in my office at that time. Since we could not exit the normal way, the only other option was to use the emergency exit, which was located a few feet away and luckily had not yet gone up in flames. There was a problem, though. Because my company had never dreamed of anything of this magnitude happening, we used the narrow room where the exit was located as the Xerox room, in which were kept file cabinets about 9 feet high used to store supplies, etc. In the explosion, the cabinets fell over and the ceiling came down, blocking the exit door. I thought we were trapped and would burn right there. One of my co-workers, F., was in the Xerox room and was almost crushed by one of the cabinets. In a matter of seconds we were all in the room trying to lift the cabinets and open the exit door enough so that we could crawl through. It's true what they say about superhuman strength when the adrenaline is pumping. We finally did it. The entire floor was filled with smoke, and luckily the office two doors down was safe to go into. The five of us, could barely breathe due to all of the smoke we inhaled and were restlessly walking around the office, coughing, cursing, crying, yelling, trying to contact people we loved, holding each other. We had no idea what the hell was going on. We thought that perhaps a pipe had burst or something. We dialed for help, but when you dial 911 in the WTC (which, not so coincidentally was yesterday's date 9/11/01, EMERGENCY), you do not get the police, you get the WTC emergency line. They wouldn't tell us what happened. Someone from the office we crawled into had the bright idea of turning on the radio and that is when we learned what had happened. A plane intentionally crashed into 1 WTC - it crashed TWO floors above mine. We all stopped in our tracks at that moment, and I believe we all had the same thought: "Oh my god! I'm going to die." Well, I tried to call my mom, her boyfriend, my stepdad, a couple of friends and nothing went through. I called my aunt's job and finally got at least a machine. At that point I was hysterically crying and told her that the building was on fire, that I was going to die and to please tell my mom and sisters that I really love them. I was actually able to hear this message late last night when I got to my aunt's apartment. I couldn't believe the terror in my voice...so close to death. Anyway, a few minutes later we heard the radio announcer say that a second plane was heading straight for 2 WTC. A few seconds later our building once again swayed back and forth as the as result of the second plane crashing into 2 WTC. I hear now that it was 18 minutes between crashes. In those 18 minutes we heard no sirens, only the ones in the building when there's a fire, there was not one announcement from authorities at the WTC alerting us that there was an emergency situation and that we should evacuate, nothing. If we hadn't turned the radio on, we would not have known what the hell had happened. I was in such a rage. The hallways were filled with smoke and we couldn't find the staircases. Finally, about 5 minutes after the second crash, someone who worked for the Port Authority entered our office and directed us to the stairs with a flashlight. Meanwhile, we were getting soaked because the sprinkler system had turned on, people were falling because the debris from the ceiling was piled high, and a couple of people fainted. All five of us clung to each other and made it safely to the stairs. I think that the most terrifying part of this whole experience was the 45 or so minutes we were all walking down those 89 flights of stairs. I really doubted that we would make it out alive. There was a lot of blockage in the stairways. Every couple of minutes everyone would have to stop and move aside to let the firemen go up, someone would become fatigued and have to stop in the middle of going down, some of the stairwells were flooded, making everyone have to go down more slowly. It was a real nightmare. F. and I became separated from our three co-workers. We were really trying to get down as fast as we possibly could. Finally, we got down, drenched. By this time I was shoeless, had to walk over all the broken glass and debris that was on the ground. Man, I was fucking saved! However, my joy came to a halt about one block away when behind me, I heard WHOOSH! 2 WTC was collapsing. F. and I ran for our lives. The whole scene was like a movie, exactly like a movie. We found shelter inside of a Duane Reade. The second we got in and held the doors shut only blackness could be seen through the glass doors. We all ran into the basement, and were handed wet cloths with which to shield our eyes and mouths from the ash. We were stationed there for about a half hour, when a couple of Duane Reade employees decided to check if the coast was clear so that we could evacuate and walk northeast, away from the buildings. Well, everything looked fine, several people left the area. As F. and I were about to step out, again, we heard the rushing sound and immediately ran back as far back inside as we could. Now, 1 WTC was collapsing. It was another half hour before we were able to leave. During that last half hour F. and I walked into an office that had several phones and were trying to contact family members and friends, but I couldn't get in touch with anyone. My whole family thought I was dead. I couldn't believe I was alive. I just wanted to get home or at least get some shoes. Anyway, we finally were able to leave, of course it was raining ashes, but the worst, for the time being, was over, so F. and I had to walk about 2 and a half miles to her boyfriend's job. Luckily he worked in lower Manhattan. On the way, she and I were turned down by four stores to go to the bathroom and two merchants in the Chinatown area refused to give me even a $2.99 pair of slippers to walk through the rest of Manhattan. Our fifth try was a lucky one, though. A fabric store let us in, gave us water, let us use the phone and bathrooms and we were able to clean up as best we could. About 20 minutes later we continued on our way to the ConEd plant on 14th Street and Avenue C, where F.' boyfriend met us. It was such a relief to see if a familiar, welcoming face. He led us into the plant, where we cleaned up some more and then he drove me to the area where my mother's boyfriend works. My mom's boyfriend contacted her. She and my 11-year-old sister were in tears when they saw me, at which point I just broke down. I could barely breath, speak, see, and think. I was just so relieved. God, relief doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. After that point there isn't much to tell. I couldn't get back into New Jersey for obvious reasons, so me, mom and sisters spent the night at my aunt's apartment and today I was finally able to get home via Path Train and cab. So that's it. Most of it anyway. Of course all of the details aren't there... It's really so much to explain. I'm physically fine. I have a lot to deal with in my head though... I'm gonna be alright.

Part Two.

To my Friends and Family, My girlfriend S. made it out of Tower 1 from the 89th floor. I am sending her story to my friends, with an appeal for help for this survivor. She did make it out of the building alive, but the emotional damage is starting to set in. She has not slept, because every time she closes her eyes she sees the faces of the firefighters who were going up the stairs as she was coming down. She breaks down and cries if a large truck passes and shakes her house. She is jumpy with every loud noise. She even cried when she called to get new credit cards. When they asked if they were stolen or lost, she broke down crying and said, "They blew up in the World Trade Center". She lost her cell phone, beeper, money and several other things every woman carries in their purse. After we found out she was home safely, we posted her story on our Website. Within 2 hours of the story being posted, we had to remove it because she was receiving instant messages and emails saying, "You should have died." Besides the nightmares and the stress, S. just moved into an apartment, which is mostly empty except her bedroom. She has to continue to pay rent, her bills, and buy food. However without a job she can not make it that long. Our on line family is doing what we can to help her. Yesterday, we took turns being with her and will continue to do so. I had 2nd shift and decided to give her a massage. When I got her to her house, she was ringing the doorbell hoping someone upstairs could let her in. I turned to her and said "Don't you have keys?" without thinking, she looked at me and said "They blew up remember" I sat on her front stairs, half-laughing and half crying. I was with her until 10 p.m. last night, rubbing her legs because she can hardly walk from coming down 89 flights of stairs and the running. By the time I got home and back on line I found her in tears again, and stayed up with her until 3 a.m. I'm asking everyone I know to help S. get back on her feet. The relief effort you see on TV is going to the victims family's and workers in NYC who are on search and rescue. So far no one has contacted her asking if she needs any help. Her on line family is taking shifts, feeding her, taking her out, buying her things she needs. At this point, I am starting to burn out and we need more relief. If you can donate any food or money to her, please contact me. Damsel If you would like to help S., please write: Damsel@TheDDK.com.