Going Back to New York

Part I: Getting There

Photos Below Story

In the days following the attack, I was recovering at my parents' house in Jersey. After getting a lungful of ash, asbestos, and God-knows-what, I contracted a cold. My nerves were also shot.

When I decided to leave my apartment, I grabbed all the essentials, but left a lot of things behind. Even on the day of the attack, I figured it would be up to a week before I'd be able to get back into my apartment. For about two weeks, that area was sealed off to everyone, except for those with proper ID proving they lived there.

Since my place was temporary housing at the end of an overseas assignment, I had no such proof and had to wait until the general public was granted access. But to tell the truth, I don't think I was ready to return to New York. Sensing my apprehension, my mother went with me to fetch my items out.

I had seen the skyline from the Jersey Turnpike and, even though I had witnessed one of the towers fall, could still not believe my eyes. They really were gone. It wasn't just a bad dream or a disaster movie, it had all really happened.

The best way to get to my apartment was via the Staten Island Ferry. The ferry which is renowned for tourists as well as commuters, gives one a great view of the Manhattan skyline. Sadly, now it shows just how empty that skyline is without its crown jewels.