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These are the accounts of my brother, who studies in Manhattan, of Tuesday’s events. I publish them with his permission.

My morning began with several reset alarms. I
kept getting up, and thinking that I could sleep just
a few more minutes and still be on time.

There sure were a lot of sirens, though. I
didn’t pay too much attention to them, because of my
proximity to Bellevue Hospital. And if there
were a few more than normal today, I didn’t think it
anything special.

We woke up at 9:05, Jason and I. We trudged
around a little bit. I showered. When I
got back to the room, the phone rang. Jason
answered, paused… muttered “You’ve got to be
kidding me” and pushed the power button on our
TV.

I don’t remember what station it was — it doesn’t
matter, they were all showing the same thing. A
plane had crashed into one of the World Trade
towers. Another had followed shortly after,
smashing into the second tower. As I was waking
up — just a few miles away, acts of terrorism were
being carried out. At this point, all the rumors
were conjecture… if only one plane had hit, I
may have believed it an accident until proven
otherwise. But two… certainly this was a
terrorist attack.

The phone call was from my father… he told me
that he had just turned on the news, and that this had
just happened. The south wind was blowing the
smoke away from me, or I certainly would have known of
this before. I hung up and called the
office. Brian answered- I told him I was coming
in, and asked if he knew. They all knew, he
said. They were all watching.

Sam and Will from down the hall went to look from the
roof- Sam grabbed his camera, and they headed out the
side doors of our 26th story.

I headed downstairs, still in disbelief. I
walked to the subway station on Park Ave. and
23rd. A man sat with a newspaper and a cup of
coffee. I asked him what had happened. He
told me the same- an airplane into each tower.

The pillar of smoke ever in my sight, I continued to
the subway station. I used the last of the fares
on my metro card. There were businessmen and
women huddled together. Once again I asked what
had happened. A plane into each tower, the man
told me. And one hit the Pentagon.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I asked
if anybody had claimed responsibility. Nobody
knew.

The subway was silent as I rode to Astor Place.
I have never heard the subway silent before. I
exited — the cloud of smoke and ash was much closer
now. I walked on Astor to Broadway- turned
south. A huge cloud of smoke had suddenly
erupted from the ground, under where the other flames
had been. People began to run, screaming.
People began running in every direction.
“ANOTHER EXPLOSION, ANOTHER EXPLOSION!” As I walked by
an unmarked truck, I began to fear that I was next to
a car bomb. My pace quickened… I moved
downtown against the beginning flow.

Outside of 721 Broadway I turned. I wanted to
see what had happened… I wanted to see it with
my own eyes. I came to a crowd of people
standing on Green St. Again I asked “What
happened?” A guy my own age turned and looked at me,
tears streaming down his face- “The left tower just
fell down.”

My heart stopped. Surely this could not be
happening. A certainly deadly terrorist attack
had just leapt into utter devastation. My hand
leapt to my mouth, agape. There was so much
smoke. I kept walking toward Washington Square
Park. The Main Building of NYU emptied.
The word that classes were cancelled spread
quickly.

I turned around and headed back toward 721
Broadway. My hand still at my mouth, my heart
and mind not truly believing it. I walked
inside, up to the third floor. My office was
empty. I saw Chris standing down the hall with
some students. I walked up to him- voice
shaking- I asked “Chris… did one of them just
fall over?” He nodded at me… those always wise
eyes suddenly filled with unknowing. We sat
there, gathered at the doorway, listening to the
radio. Two or three other guys, one girl with
tear stained cheeks. I had to sit down, my legs
were shaking. As the others slowly departed to
go make important phone calls, I stood back up.
My cell phone, 60 hours old had no signal. Of
course, I thought — communication towers are on the
World Trade Towers.

I walked back to the office, dropped my bag.
Tried both friends, tried to get to CNN website
nothing was working. All I could think about was
getting home. I heard that classes weren’t
cancelled, but I didn’t care. I needed to find
something else to do.

Downstairs I saw the same girl from upstairs…
Lindsay, she said her name was. We shook
hands. Trying to force a smile, I said that the
next time we met I hoped it would be in better
circumstances. And we parted ways, with wishes
of good luck.

I reached Chelsea outside of Tisch… she hadn’t
heard what had happened. Jenny’s parents had
just called from Beijing and asked if they were
watching the news. She said she was just about
to call me. It was her turn to ask “What
happened?” And I stood outside of Tisch, leaning
against the wall, sobbing. I told her what had
happened. New York. Washington D.C.
She was sobbing now, too. “How could this
happen?” She asked. I had no answer to
give.

I joined the mass emigration moving northward along
major streets. We all looked behind,
constantly. There was no tremendous thunder
clap, there was no fanfare- but when I turned around
that last time and saw no more smoke coming from the
sky, and billowing clouds of ash from the ground, I
knew the second tower had fallen. Women walking
next to me had no signal on their phones. One
asked if she could use my phone, she had to call her
family- but once I disconnected, I too had no
signal. The streets were filled with people
moving uptown. Away and further away.

Rumors filled the streets- the Sears Tower had been
hit, I heard. Car bombs were exploding all over
D.C., I heard. I looked up at the Empire State
Building, hoping it would last the day. I feared
that it might be next. There were so many people
on the streets. I feared car bombs. People
were staring at cell phones, willing them to work,
looking behind with dread. As I turned on 26th
St., I started talking to some businessmen.
“What the fuck is going on?,” I asked? As one turned
and wished us good luck, the second echoed my
question. “Where are you headed?” I asked.
“I’m going to Bellevue, try to give blood,” he
said.

I joined him — I was in such shock, it honestly
hadn’t occurred to me to donate blood. We
quickened our pace again, and made toward
Bellevue.

It was caution-taped shut. “Nobody comes in,”
the police officer said. “We want to give
blood,” we said. “Nobody comes in.”

So I parted ways with this man too — he told to me to
try again later, and to get as many people as I
could. I told him I would certainly do so.
And I walked back to my dorm. Up to the 26th
floor. Into Sam and Will’s room. The
images from his camera on his computer already, I saw
the now destroyed twin towers smoking- as they had
stood two, maybe three hours earlier. But I knew
they weren’t there anymore… nothing in my life
has been so surreal. As I walked back to my
room, the thoughts in my mind were of a new day that
will live in infamy. Of the thousands upon
thousands upon tens of thousands that must have been
dead in the destruction. And I couldn’t really
work it out in my head… I couldn’t get it to
click.

Zach was safe, Zach was here. We talked about
how frightened we were, what we had seen, what we had
heard. My concern became for Aaron — I knew
that Jason couldn’t have possibly gotten that far
downtown — he had left the dorm after me, and as all
public transit systems were down, he couldn’t have
gotten down there. But Aaron was gone when I
woke up, and we hadn’t heard from him. He called
relatively soon — he was safe at a friend’s
dorm.

Jason got back to the dorm. He had been trying
to give blood at other hospitals — St.
Vincent’s and Beth Israel. He had tried Bellevue
too. They all turned him away. Too many
patients, too few doctors. All the TV stations
said that there was a shortage of blood — but we
couldn’t find anybody to take ours.

I couldn’t get a phone line out. Ethernet
worked… I got Jonathan Johannsen to call my dad
and tell him I was OK, and to have my dad call Chelsea
and Josh. Chelsea signed online shortly after,
my dad shortly after her. I was inundated with
instant messages. I spread the word that I was
OK, but that New York was a warzone. There were
so many people.

Nine or ten of my friends were downstairs, making the
trek to Laura’s. Alive and well and accounted
for were all those that I hadn’t heard from.

And through the day as I watched the news, I got back
in touch with my family… I found out that
Chelsea had been planning on surprising me with a
visit the next day. She had a plane ticket to
come and see me for the next five or six days, as a
wonderful surprise. And I begged and begged her
to wait at least a week to come again. The last
thing I need is for Chelsea to be on a plane right now
– as if I could rest easily with that on my
mind. As if I can now…

And that was the rest of the day… news, and
phone, and typing… letting everyone know that I
was physically alive, and mentally pretty
ragged.

So I watched the news, and talked to friends, and
tried not to think about the things that were
happening downtown. Sooner or later, maybe, it
will hit me what has happened. It will hit me
that New York’s largest buildings are a heap of
200,000 tons of steel, mixed with concrete and
glass… but it hasn’t yet. Maybe it will
hit me how many died… but it hasn’t yet.

But it has started to hit me how everyone came
together in this city… it’s started to hit me
that those places that are taking blood have lines
around the block, that usually gruff New Yorkers were
sharing cell phones, and wishes of peace.

This really doesn’t change the fact that tens of
thousands died today, that I watched a building
collapse, that others were closer and others lost
loved ones and others had their planes hijacked and
flight attendants were stabbed and pilots probably
shot, that people decided to fall rather than burn,
that rescue workers simply helping out are gone
too.

It doesn’t change any of that. But in a hopeless
situation it gives me a glimmer of hope that I
desperately need. And I want to side with that
businessman on the street today who said “I hope we
give a big “fuck you” to the world and build ‘em back
again, this time bigger.” And I want to send love to
those who are offering shelter and food, and to a city
always divided to come together so well.

Today it takes an attack, but that hope is there –
that someday it won’t have to come to that. I
don’t know, but I hope. It’s been the longest,
scariest, worst day of my life. Good
night. And Peace-