From One of the Lucky Ones

I’m Dawn Lee. I work in lower Manhattan and witnessed the attack on the World Trade Center (WTC) last week. As you read this account of the coincidences that let me escape unscathed, I urge you to think of the victims who are not so lucky, and who are not alive to tell their stories today.

I am an analyst in American Express’s Strategic Planning Group on the 38th floor of 3 World Financial Center. Our building is connected to the WTC North Tower by a covered footbridge. I go to work everyday by taking a subway to the Cortland Street stop, located underneath the WTC, then walking through the mall and through the lobby of the North Tower into my building.

American Airlines Flight 11 hit the North Tower at 8:45 a.m. On any other day, I would have been walking through the WTC at that time, maybe even lingering in the mall to get breakfast or coffee. Last Tuesday, however, I was late—I had stayed at home a few extra minutes to make a phone call that morning.

Instead of being in the WTC at 8:45, I was still in the subway. No one had heard about what had happened as my train pulled into the WTC station moments after the first attack. I got off of the train but couldn’t get out of the station; there was great confusion as others appeared to be rushing into the station. As commuters tried to push their way towards the exit, a man yelled out that there had been a bomb. The idea seemed so incredible that I thought maybe it was a joke, but yet it was frightening enough that I wanted to escape just in case. I realized that the subway train from which I had come was about to leave the station, leaving me there with nowhere to run, so I quickly jumped back onto the train just before it left. As we pulled out of the station, many people came running down into the station. I hope that another train was behind us to take these people to safety.

In retrospect, I should have taken the train all the way out of Manhattan. Instead, I got off at the next stop, wanting to see if there had just been a joke after all. I also thought that it would be dangerous to be underground if something did explode and the buildings were to collapse on the underground subway system.

I came up to the street, a block from the WTC Towers. I saw smoke coming from the top of the North Tower, as well as large amounts of paper falling out of the windows. I started to walk closer to the WTC and to ask others what had happened. Some said a bomb, others a fire, yet still others told me a plane had accidentally crashed into the tower.

The second plane crashed into the South Tower at 9:05 a.m. I was directly across the street from that building when I heard a loud explosion, looked up and saw a large ball of fire, and felt a wave of heat hit me. Everyone started screaming and crying as they ran away from the Towers. I was trying to run as quickly as I could without tripping in my heels, trying to stay ahead of the sharp pieces of glass or concrete I was convinced were flying right at my back.

Luckily, I was not hit with any pieces of debris and had also managed not to trip and get trampled by others. I slowed down after running to the next block. It was then that I met Kristin, one of the three new friends I made on the street that morning. Kristin was crying, so I went over to hug her, hoping to comfort her and also to calm my own nerves. Kristin and I walked some more, away from other tall buildings, having no real idea where we could go that would be safe. When we had gone just about as far as we could, we stood in a long line for a pay phone. Kristin and I also became friends with two women who stood in line with us—Kersten and Dee. The four of us tried to comfort one another, especially after we heard from Kristin’s phone conversation not only that the WTC crashes had been terrorist attacks, but that the Pentagon had been hit as well.

The South Tower of the WTC collapsed at 9:50 a.m. I had just finished calling my boyfriend in Boston, who would then call my parents in Hong Kong, when we heard another loud noise and saw a large cloud of smoke coming towards us. Everyone was again screaming and running towards the pier. After we had run a few more blocks, Kristin, Kersten, Dee and I decided that the safest thing to do would be to walk uptown.

My apartment is on the Upper West side, but I decided not to go back. There were rumors that being close to the water was unsafe, and my apartment was right on the Hudson River. We were also told that all transportation but a few ferries had been shut down, so I wanted to catch the ferries out of Manhattan while I could.

I also did not wanted to leave the company of my new friends. Though we had not met before that day, the four of us stayed together the entire morning, lending one another our money, calling cards, and—most importantly—our support. We also offered one another a place to stay in case one of us got stranded. Without the companionship of these three women, I would have been utterly frightened and lost in the city that morning.

We took the ferry to Hoboken, N.J., where I boarded an Amtrak train north to Boston. As the ferry started across the water, we saw lower Manhattan for the first time since we had run from it that morning. We were horrified at the destruction, but I was also relieved to see the American Express building still standing.

When we arrived in New Jersey, the authorities decontaminated us—we marched in front of them one by one, and they sprayed us with water from a hose. I didn’t feel too certain that I had been disinfected of any biological weapons, only soaked from head to toe and worried that I would catch a cold.

I was waiting for my train when a prankster called a bomb threat into the station. I found myself once again running frantically out of the building with everyone else. Once we were reassured that it was merely a cruel joke, I returned to the station and boarded my train to Boston, where I was met by my boyfriend and finally stopped worrying that I would never see him again.

As I watched the news reports from Boston, I was repeatedly reminded how lucky I was to have escaped unhurt—and to have so many family and friends who cared about me and worried about how I was coping.

Everyone in my group at work is safe, but there are others at American Express who are still missing. As my company tries to find emergency office space, I am taking advantage of my free time to enjoy life—and also, slowly, to start sharing my story with others to come to terms with my experience.

Even though last Tuesday was so frightening for me, my experience is much less horrifying than what many others had to go through that morning. I did not witness victims jumping out of the burning towers. I was not in the WTC at the time of the attacks.

I urge you to think of the experiences of those who unfortunately became victims of the attacks—those whose stories we may never hear—and to help them and their families in any way you can.

Dawn Lee ’01 is a former Crimson executive. Financial assistance can be given to the attacks’ victims and their families through several charities that have been established, including the United Way’s September 11th Fund (http://september11fund.org).