Friday, September 11, 2009

A Day Nothing Like That One 8 Years Ago


Every person I know from the generation before mine can tell you where they were when they heard that Kennedy had been shot. For our generation it will be the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon in 2001. Where I was is fairly insignificant (vainly at the gym on my way to a 6:30 a.m. class). What I did all day, even less significant (motionless under a blanket on the couch staring at the TV). What is significant is realizing at someone else's expense just how fragile life is.

At the time I worked for a company that was a vendor to Royal Caribbean cruise lines. As a result I went on 6 cruises in one year. Not all its cracked up to be, trust me. After the third you are ready to get off that boat! We had worked very hard to roll out a branded concept on Royal Caribbeans newest ship and it was scheduled for delivery in New York Harbor on November 7th, 2001. Two months after the 9/11 attacks. They hadn't let a passenger ship into the harbor since then and it wasn't certain that we would allowed in either.

Not only did we get approval to bring this enormous ship into Manhattan we were the first passenger ship allowed in since 9/11 so we were accompanied by helicopters, fire boats, police boats and met at the dock by Mayor Giuliani himself. This would have been enough for me but what happened that night was more intense than anything I've ever experienced. It makes me cry every time I talk about it.

Since we had sailed from Boston with just crew members the ship was essentially empty. So Royal Caribbean made arrangements with the city of New York to host an overnight sail for surviving family members, fire fighters and police officers. The ship was alive with excitement, laughter and these devastated people all dressed up having a wonderful time. Possibly their first in nearly 60 days. But then we sailed past Ground Zero, the bright lights filling the sky. The entire ship of nearly 2,000 passengers became silent. Then the sound of names being called out; "Johnny I love you", "Kelly I miss you", "I'm still here Roger".

It felt like the silence would never end, but it did. By the end of the night the ship had completely run dry of Boddingtons and Bass Ales, Irish folk songs were being sung, children ran freely, women kicked off their heels and danced. It was like a huge family reunion, minus 2,000 absentees.

Eight years later here I am, living in the city that no one will forget what happened to it. On a daily basis there is no sign of the tragedy that happened less than a decade ago. But once a year it remembers just as we all should remember. Where were you? How will you remember?