I live in Manhattan in New York City, about five miles from where the two World Trade Center Towers stood until that fateful day, the third anniversary of which was today.
It was late morning, and both of the twin towers had gone down. Both of my brothers work in the World Trade Center. One was accounted for, one was not. Because the phone system had overloaded, there was little phone service within Manhattan for many hours, so any information would be slow coming. I wasn't working that day, and was at home alone, but I was very worried. I didn't want to be alone, so I went to the Amsterdam Billiard club. There was no bus or train service, but I walked a mile and a half to get there so I could be with some of my pool buddies. Most of them were in the same boat as me, wondering whether friends and relatives were alive. We stuck together and endured one of the longest days of our respective lives. Very few of us actually played pool.
By about five thirty, I got the news that my brother was finally accounted for. His car had been buried in the rubble at Ground zero, but he was OK. I lost a close friend that day, as well as a business colleague, but my brothers were OK. I was one of the lucky ones that lost no relatives that day.
I've always felt that the fact that the poolroom was where I wanted to be on 9/11/01 evidences how much pool and the people I've met because of it mean to me.
It was late morning, and both of the twin towers had gone down. Both of my brothers work in the World Trade Center. One was accounted for, one was not. Because the phone system had overloaded, there was little phone service within Manhattan for many hours, so any information would be slow coming. I wasn't working that day, and was at home alone, but I was very worried. I didn't want to be alone, so I went to the Amsterdam Billiard club. There was no bus or train service, but I walked a mile and a half to get there so I could be with some of my pool buddies. Most of them were in the same boat as me, wondering whether friends and relatives were alive. We stuck together and endured one of the longest days of our respective lives. Very few of us actually played pool.
By about five thirty, I got the news that my brother was finally accounted for. His car had been buried in the rubble at Ground zero, but he was OK. I lost a close friend that day, as well as a business colleague, but my brothers were OK. I was one of the lucky ones that lost no relatives that day.
I've always felt that the fact that the poolroom was where I wanted to be on 9/11/01 evidences how much pool and the people I've met because of it mean to me.