Seattle memories of the day the world stopped

To much of Spaceship Earth, September 11th now flutters past on the calendar like any other day. In fact, a growing number of people were born after 9/11 and only know it from textbooks, documentaries, or anniversary specials. They don’t have the visceral memory of where they were, or what they felt, because they weren’t here.

But for me? I’ll #NeverForget.

I was startled awake by my wife (yes, I was married once). She told me to turn on the TV because a plane had accidentally crashed into a building.

“What the $&#%*?” I thought. “Planes don’t just accidentally hit buildings.”

In a fog of sleep, I switched on the TV at the worst possible moment — just in time to watch the second plane slam into the World Trade Center. My mind rebelled. It felt like a sick joke, some terrible special effect. But it was real. And in that moment, sorrow dropped me to my knees.

All I wanted was to be there, wherever “there” was, to help.

I got up and dressed for work. Those were commercial jets, which meant New York City, which meant my job at Metropolitan Travel would be impacted. Our Seattle office was about to get slammed with clients who needed help getting home.

Back in the bedroom, my wife told me the radio was reporting this was deliberate. We were under attack. My sorrow shifted to rage. In the shower, I broke down in tears — a promise I had made to my mom after her death, shattered in the spray of water and grief.

The bus ride to work was silent. Somber. At Metropolitan Travel, the office TVs blared live news. Shortly after I arrived, all planes were grounded nationwide. Our marching orders were simple: rental cars, train tickets, hotel rooms. Get our clients home. Meanwhile, manifests were checked to see if any of “ours” were on the four doomed flights.

As we worked, the Towers fell. Steel citadels crumbling in minutes, collapsing under the weight of jet fuel and destruction. Those images seared into my mind forever.

And then came another image — three firefighters raising a flag at Ground Zero. The echo of Iwo Jima. A phoenix rising from the ashes. Proof that even in the worst moment, the American spirit could lift itself again.

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Walking On Sacred Ground

Years later, in April 2015, I finally stood on that ground myself. I was traveling with my then-girlfriend Cher — we had a trip planned to the Dominican Republic, but I intentionally arranged for us to overnight in the New Jersey/New York area. Partly to see her best friend, Gwen, but also because I knew I had to visit the developing 9/11 Memorial.

I didn’t realize just how massive the memorial would be, or that even then more was still under construction. Walking the grounds was humbling. Somber. Quiet in a way that felt reverent. The footprints of the Towers carved into waterfalls. The slurry wall, still holding back the Hudson. The timelines etched into steel. It was impossible not to feel the weight of absence.

At the time, I was dabbling in geocaching. There were virtuals and Adventure Lab caches tied to the site — I regret not logging them while I was there. But maybe that’s fitting. Some places aren’t meant to be “checked off” a list. They’re meant to be experienced, remembered, and returned to.

Honoring What Still Rises …

And maybe I’ll return. On the 25th anniversary in 2026, perhaps I can coax Jen into visiting with me. To stand there again, this time with my soulmate, and honor not only what was lost but also what still rises.

For years after, I found my own way to honor 9/11, to process the flood of emotions I had that day. It’s a day I’ll never forget. Not that I could, even if I tried.

So Seattle, what was your experience on 9/11/01? Many of you lived it, like me. Others were too young or not yet born. It’s a sobering thought — that something so seared into my memory is only a page in a history book for someone else.

But I hope those who were alive never forget those who didn’t see another sunrise on Spaceship Earth.