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 very
New Yorker has a personal experience from the day now called 911
— September 11 — that will be indelibly marked in memory
for the rest of his life. Here's mine.
I work as a
highway-contract tow-truck driver, pulling vehicles off the highways
when they get stuck. As soon as I learned of the disaster I called
the several companies that I work for to see who needed emergency
work done in Lower Manhattan. One of them told me to report to work
immediately, but by the time I got there they were already full
up with drivers.
Dejected, I was walking down Tenth Avenue and to my surprise I was
approached by two police officers who asked me if I thought I could
drive a school bus. Having driven all kinds of vehicles over the
years, I of course said yes and I soon found myself behind the wheel
of a 24-person school bus that was already set up to handle 12 stretchers.
I guess I had been unofficially deputized for the day.
It was horrifying
to see that everything was shut off after the second tower was destroyed
and all rescuers were helpless. Everything was cut off except for
the perimeter of the disaster area, which meant that those who were
able to be helped were those who were able to walk away from the
inferno. All others would have to wait under the rubble and most
are still there.
After driving
several trips to St. Vincent's, Bellevue, and Roosevelt hospitals
I was relieved of duty after seven hours of horror. I was then left
off at Hudson and Hubert Street where, amazingly, there were almost
one-thousand people waiting to volunteer for search-and-rescue duty.
These volunteers were of all types — from hardened iron workers
to office workers to Greenwich Village slackers. All of them found
they had a common denominator despite their opposing lifestyles
— they were New Yorkers.
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