Trying to Cope

I initially assumed it was a Cessna or other small plane. I figured it was a pilot who wanted a good view of the towers and got too close, or someone who wanted to take their own life, and go out in a big way.

I started hopping around the radio dial, looking for more information. I came upon 92.7, WXRK, which plays the Howard Stern show in the morning. It was hear I first heard the shocking words "passenger jet." No one on the show was laughing. When the Howard Stern show gets serious, something terrible has happened.

I jumped up to 102.7 WNEW, who hosts another morning talk show. They were also reporting a passenger jetliner had hit the World Trade Center. I began to speculate what could have happened. A pilot error, a controller error, terrorism? I tried to put the last possibility out of my mind. I reasoned to myself that it had to have been an error on the pilot or an air traffic controller.

Then they started screaming that another plane had hit the other tower. I went numb. It had to be terrorism.

By now I was at the client and sitting in their parking lot, waiting for my co-worker, Brian. My cell phone rang and it was Mike at the office. He was talking on the phone to his wife, who was watching it all at home. He said the second plane was captured on video.

This was horrible.

I called my parents to see if they know. I asked my father to call Capt Steve of the Sarah B. I knew he worked in the stock market, but I wasn't sure if it was in NYC. I called my fiancé, Ania, and told her what was happening. She was still at home and put on the TV.

By now it was time to head in to the client's office and do their install. I steeled my nerves and went in. Brian showed up a few minutes later. The install went easily, except for a few small and correctable errors on my part. I was finding it hard to concentrate. So was everyone there.

Then we learned both towers came down.

Brian and I went out to lunch with the client. None of us were hungry. Mike called from the office and told us to head home. Ania called from work to tell me she was heading home. Brian and I spent one more hour finishing up at the client and left.

In the parking lot I asked Brian if he wanted to head to Sandy Hook. As morbid as that sounds, I had to see with my own eyes. I had seen the video captures on the net while at the client, but I really needed to confirm myself. He agreed.

We arrived at Sandy Hook to find the entrance to the national park closed. We headed back south on Rt. 36 to an empty parking lot and climbed the sea wall. The site from the seawall tore my guts out. It looked like most of southern Manhattan was on fire.

I left there and went home. That evening was a blur of images on the news.

Wednesday was a continuation of Tuesday evening. At work, all I could do was read the news sites, check message boards, and manage to get a few e-mails to friends to make sure they were OK. It was a blessing that no one I knew directly was missing.

By Thursday, the past events were taking a toll on my soul and psyche. I had felt horror, fear, anger and sorrow, all at differing levels depending on what I was seeing on the news. Anger and sorrow were becoming the predominate emotions. Sorrow for those that were killed, and greater sorrow for those who lost loved ones.

But the anger was growing. Anger at the monsters that could have done this.

I had to go into Philadelphia to help another client out with a different test tool. I had hesitations about going, but steeled my nerves and made the drive. When I got there, there were security guards physically blocking the way to the elevators. I had to get an escort from one of the employees in the building. They even had the maintenance crew helping with security.

Upstairs in the building, a half hour after I arrived, the lady I was working with is pulled away by her manager. She comes back to tell me they just had a bomb threat phoned in. It was their third in two days. She explained the police did not mandate a full evacuation, but if I felt uncomfortable, I could leave. She was staying. I tried to stay, but after a little while decided it was better to be a live coward than a brave corpse.

I went to my office, and then home.

I needed to get away from the news. I took my dog for a long walk. I stopped at Ania's and we made him patriotic with three ribbons, red white and blue, attached to his collar. As I walked home, I decided I didn't want to turn on the TV, didn't want to turn on the computer.

I figured maybe I should go fishing. I didn't feel like it, and it didn't feel right, but I knew it would take my mind off other things.

I tied up a few leaders and rigged a rod. As I was walking out to my truck, my neighbor Pat came home. Pat owns a business in the heights. He told me the FBI was there. They found a car they were looking for parked at a motel in Seaside Heights. He said they didn't get the guy they were looking for.

I responded with "So I guess I shouldn't go out fishing alone on Island Beach State Park?"

His response was "Go to bed John."

I'd always thought I would be relatively safe at the shore. It was always my safe haven, my home. Now those bastards were here.

On Friday, the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. I wanted to help, but didn't know where to go or what to do. I donated $100 to the Red Cross through their website. It didn't feel like enough, but was more than I could afford. I tried to keep myself distracted by rebuilding one of the Windows 2000 server machines we have. It didn't help. I left work early.

Saturday morning my brother and I went on a quest for a flag. He wanted to fly one from the rod holders in the back of his truck. I'm convinced a flag is currently impossible to find in Ocean and Monmouth counties. I tied red, white, and blue ribbons to my truck and car antennas on Wednesday. That would have to be sufficient until a flag could be located.

I slept away most of Saturday afternoon. The nights of little sleep had all caught up with me. Ania woke me up at 7:00 PM to see if I wanted to go out to dinner. I did.

The sheer amount of people wearing red white and blue was staggering. There were people on street corners waving flags and burning candles. Patriotism has run rampant in the United States. Political, social, ethnic and religious barriers were not only put on the back burner, but they were taken off the stove completely. Too bad it took a tragedy like this to do it.

On Sunday Ania and I had an appointment with a real estate agent. She was supposed to have called and confirmed the appointment on Saturday, but hadn't. We both feared that she might have been directly affected by the WTC attack. Turns out she didn't call because she worried the same thing about us.

Sunday night arrived and I debated what to do. The conditions looked good for fishing. The wind was light, the tide was right, and my stuff was ready.

I decided not to go.

Until next week...

24 Hours at the End...	So Long Nana...and thanks	Other Side of the Inlet	Fishing the Susquehanna Flats	Fishing Reports
Weakfish in Three Takes	Recon	2001 JCAA Tournament	Tournament Weekend	First Annual Fly Fling
	Trying to Cope	In the Haze	Fishing with Zeebassman	Someone has to take the fall...