20 Years Later…

In honor of the 20th anniversary of 9/11, I really wanted to write something profound… something meaningful. Then I thought to myself, what could one ever write to give it enough justice? Could I ever write anything “good enough”? Probably not, but I damn well wanted to try. Then just as I sat down with my laptop in an attempt to gather my thoughts, I realized I had already written something about September 11th that I have been waiting to share. What follows is going to make up the first chapter of my memoir that I am currently in the middle of writing. I’ve been getting a lot of questions as to what my book is about and when it’s going to be finished, so I wanted to share this piece. Last year when I first sat down to begin writing this book about the path that led me to New York City, this memory came to me in a flash. It was something I hadn’t thought about in a long time, and I realized how much it shaped my life leading up to this point. Keep in mind, this is largely unedited, but it is one hundred percent from the heart.

My earliest memory of anything NYC related was going to Ellis Island on a fourth grade field trip. Ironically enough, the most vivid memory I have of this trip was the ferry ride to the island. Mom came as a chaperone and I was stoked that my best friend was in my group. While it was sometime in early spring, the wind on that ferry made it feel like winter was still holding on. By some miracle while on the outside deck, I managed to snap one of the coolest pictures I have ever taken: The New York City skyline with the Twin Towers center stage. It was with one of those disposable cameras too. You know, the ones where you never knew if that picture would even be any good until you picked up that film from Walgreens days later. That was the closest I had been to Manhattan up to that point in my life and I remember I was in total awe of that view.  I wouldn’t actually be in The City until years later when mom took my brother and I to the Museum of Natural History. We drove in with a family friend versus taking the train since you could park directly at the museum. By the time we left that day I was already thinking about how I could get back to the museum again because just once would never be enough.

Thinking of that picture I took on the ferry made me remember the moment. The one that doesn’t even technically take place in NYC, yet it was a moment that seriously impacted my decision to move there years later. It was one of those instances where it’s happening and you literally have no idea it will ever even matter later on. It doesn’t even register as overly important until you are looking back in hindsight. 

Back in September of 2001, I was a shy and quiet 14 year-old girl who happened to be obsessed with the Backstreet Boys. Okay, so anyone who knows me now is probably laughing because my love for BSB still runs deep at 34 years old. 2001 was when the Backstreet Boys were one of the biggest and most successful groups in the world and they were in the middle of their tour for their hit album Black & Blue. I had never been to a concert and my mom officially made my life by snagging tickets to the July show in East Rutherford, NJ. That specific arena is now closed, but for context, it was basically across the water from NYC. Originally our tickets were for a July show but wound up having to get rescheduled due to a band member’s health issue. Soon after the announcement, we got word that our July concert date was being rescheduled for the first week in September. Even though it would now be on a school night, I begged mom to still go.

As we were driving up the New Jersey Turnpike heading to the arena, I was practically bouncing the whole way in the back seat. Decked out in my black and blue nail polish, my mind was about to explode at the thought of even being in the same building as these five men. I can assure you we definitely had nosebleed seats but I did not care in the slightest- I was about to see A.J. McLean in person!

We of course had the Backstreet Boys playing in the car and of course I am belting out each song word for word when my mom interrupted me, “Nikki look, it’s New York City”. I actually stopped singing long enough to look to my right out the window and I immediately see the Twin Towers. The weather was gorgeous that day so the entire skyline was crystal clear. Even in my Backstreet stupor, I was in awe of those towers. I said inside myself how I couldn’t wait to get back to NYC on my own and see the World Trade Center in person. Then the Empire State Building. Then the Statue of Liberty. Then Central Park and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Back then only being fourteen I knew I had a few years at least before I could ever visit NYC on my own, so I retrieved my head back down from the clouds and sighed to myself one of the most damaging phrases we tell ourselves: “I have time, it will always be there…” Less than five days later two Beoing 767’s would strike both towers turning them into rubble.

I am pretty sure everyone my age or older knows exactly where they were and what they were doing on September 11, 2001. For my grandparents it was when JFK was assassinated, for me it’s 9/11. Regardless of this day being twenty years ago, certain parts will always be etched into my memory. It was a Tuesday with some of the nicest possible weather and not a cloud in the sky. My high school really only consisted of four major hallways so there is an outside walkway on the right side of the building a lot of students used as a shortcut to get to the back hallway of the school. That day as I exited the side door onto the outside path I remember looking up at the bright sunny sky rolling my eyes wishing I was at the beach instead of heading to my chemistry class.

As I opened the side door and entered the hallway on the other side, I saw my best friend walking towards me. As soon as I saw the look on her face, my stomach instantly dropped.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center- they are saying it’s a terrorist attack.”

It turns out my friend’s first period teacher somehow got wind of what was happening during class time (keep in mind folks, this is most certainly before we all had smart phones). They left the classroom and went down to the school library where a television was set up and a group of people were watching a live broadcast of the news and actually witnessed the second plane hit. Hearing this sentence and having approximately 30 seconds until our second class started the only thing my brain could process was confusion. By this point as the news spread throughout the school I literally couldn’t think of anything else. My chemistry teacher in second period class tried to continue on as if the world wasn’t changing by the second. By the time we were in our third period classes, both towers collapsed reduced to rubble and ash on the streets of downtown New York City. 

Quick reminder: my hometown had a large number of people commuting to Manhattan for work. The entire rest of the day was filled with anxiety over what to even expect from one moment to the next. There was literally nothing else that anyone in the school was talking about. All I could think was how I just needed to watch the TV so I could try to make some sense out of what the hell was happening. Kids were frantic going to the main office trying to get in touch with their parents and anyone else they knew that was in Manhattan that day. The loudspeakers kept broadcasting messages for various students to report to the office right away for early pickups or calls from their family members. 

I have no idea why school wasn’t just dismissed early, I am assuming for safety reasons to try to keep all of us safe inside the school. I felt like I was in a haze. Just a few days ago I was driving past the beautiful New York skyline in awe over the World Trade Center and now it was just gone? I didn’t fully understand what terrorism was. I had heard the word “hijack” before but never really got it. By the time I got home from school that day, I was so mentally exhausted and I had barely gotten to see the news yet. Four planes? The Pentagon? Along with everyone else in the world all I could think was: How? Why?  I walked in the back door, dropped my backpack at the bottom of the steps and just sat in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. It was all I could do to try to understand what was happening. What my little brother would be reading about in history textbooks one day in high school, I was watching it happen.

I have wanted to write some kind of memoir all of my adult life but I never really thought I had any kind of story to tell. The funniest part is, each of our stories are unfolding before our eyes every single day and we have no idea what the culmination of those stories will lead to. Back in 2001 driving to a Backstreet Boys concert when I was fourteen I couldn’t have possibly imagined the impact it would have on my path to moving to NYC. At that time in my life, I can’t even say it was my dream to one day live in NYC because it was so far out of the scope of my imagination. I just expected my life to turn out completely differently than it actually has- which of course has turned out to be a massive blessing. I sit here now and I know that any future I imagine for myself now it will probably wind up so much bigger and better than I can even currently picture in my head because I am simply not there yet. Looking back now at 34 years old to write this book, I didn’t even realize how many stories added up to collectively lead me to this life in NYC. I am convinced if one of these things that make up this book hadn’t happened to me in the exact same way or order, I would have never wound up turning Thirty in the City.