9-11

September 11, 2001. 9am. I am finally at home in Knoxville. I was flying, commuting at the time from my crashpad on Waverly St (Washington Sq Park - the Village) to my happy little rental house in Knoxville that I shared with Michael (my then to be husband as of Sept 22.) I was really scared about my upcoming nuptials and a little scatter brained. On Sept 10 I hauled my jetlagged ass to World Trade,did my requisite look up at the towers, bought my Seattle's Best coffee, hopped a ride on the PATH to Newark and caught the jumpseat home to Alanta and on to Knoxville. I never thought this would be my last look.
Michael was on night shift that night (he was a KPD officer at the time) and on Sept 11 I got up when he went to bed. I had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang.
It was my future father-in-law. I listened as he exhaled all the air in his lungs and said, "Erin, sweetie, I am so glad you answered the phone and aren't out flying today."
At the time he was working in Charleston and I assumed a hurricane was about to hit, so I asked him how the weather was in South Carolina.
"Erin, you need to turn on the TV, Haven't you heard what just happened?"
I turned on the TV at the exact moment the second airplane hit. I didn't know what to think or what to do. I couldn't believe what I was watching. It couldn't be real. I just sat down on the floor, I didn't care that my wet towel was now laying in a ball next to me... My whole body just retched against what I was watching. I don't remember hanging up the phone but the next thing I remember is sobbing uncontrollably into Michael's shoulder and trying to explain to him what had happened.
I called my roommates. Thankfully, they were all in Atlanta. I called my parents. They were flying that morning from Idaho Falls to Boise to come back to Tennessee for my wedding. They were trapped in Boise. We called Jay, our best man, who was flying from Jackson Hole to Salt Lake City that morning, he was trapped in Salt Lake. Everything stopped. All of a sudden the fact that the napkins had the wrong monogram just didn't really matter, and the fact that I hadn't lost that 20 lbs just didn't really matter, we didn't even care that our honeymoon to France might be canceled (it wasn't), we had each other and we held each other.
People called who I didn't even realize had my number. All checking on my safety, all concerned for me. Was I OK?
No. I wasn't OK, but I was alive. Why those airplanes? Why wasn't it one of mine? I worked those TransCons all the time. Why was I spared? I shopped at World Trade, that was my train station. Why was I spared? No, I was not OK. What happened to the girl who sold me my coffee? To the man who took my train ticket? Were they OK? Who was checking in on them? I was helpless.
Michael was called back into work, and he went relunctantly, but he called me every 15 minutes to remind me how thankful he was for me and to tell me how grateful he was that I was safe.
To this day I can imagine what that flight crew must have went through and to this day I can't look at lower Manhattan without searching for the towers... I will never attend a memorial service and I will never watch a movie or TV show about that day. It's too close. It's too real. I just can't.
But, this day will always hold a special place for me though, because it made me realize just what was important and what was just not such a big deal. And I will never forget.