I will never forget
Dear readers,
As it becomes nightfall in NYC, I sit here, close to my window, waiting for the sky to fully darken so that I can see the two illuminated beams of bright, royal blue light (symbolizing the twin towers) pierce through the heavens. Today marks my eighth "September 11th" in my beloved NYC, and I can hardly believe that ten years have passed since that horrific day.
I remember my mom saying, "Today is going to be one of those days that you'll remember, exactly where you were and what you were doing, for the rest of your life. It's your generation's version of what the JFK assassination was for mine." She was right. Where were you on 9/11/01? What were you doing when you heard the news, and how did those events impact the rest of your day/week/month and year(s) to come?
On September 11th, 2001, I was awoken by the annoying and repeated ringing of my cell phone. I tried to ignore the first ten rings, but after about fifteen of them, I came to. "Damn it, I probably missed my class," I mumbled. After all, I was in my senior year of college and, to be quite honest, I had a rather "laissez faire" attitude about the semester. I was tired, hungover and, for god's sake, it was 8:50-something in the morning. When my phone began ringing again, I picked up. It was my mom. "A plane just flew in to the World Trade Center," she gasped, "turn on the TV!"
Rewind to January 2001: as a Restaurant/Hotel & Institutional Management major, it was imperative that juniors got internships during the summer before their senior year, in the hopes of landing a coveted position with that said company upon graduation. Whether it be through a local restaurant/hotel/institution, or one outside of Lubbock, Texas, the choice was ours. It was around this time that I thought, If I have to do an internship in Restaurant/Hotel, shouldn't I do mine in the "restaurant capital of the world?"
That was it. I had my heart set on NYC. So when a local Marriott representative came to one of my classes to speak about opportunities with the company, I made sure to figure out just how I could score an internship in the Big Apple. "I'll pass your information along," he promised. And he did.
March 2001: I was home for spring break - checking my email one afternoon - when I received a note from Marriott saying that I was accepted in to their internship program. "It's someone from NY!" I yelled out to my family. As I continued to read the email out loud, I can still remember saying, "...We have a position open at two properties. Please choose one: Courtyard NY LaGuardia (Airport) or the NY Marriott World Trade Center." "Hmmm, LaGuardia? Isn't that the airport?" I asked. My dad nodded. I didn't know anything about the "World Trade Center," but I did know that it was 1) in Manhattan and 2) it consisted of two ginormous twin towers. I responded to the email immediately, with the obvious choice: NY Marriott World Trade Center.
May 2001: Rachel, my sorority sister - also doing an internship that summer, and I moved in to a women's dormitory together at the end of May. We were so excited to be spending three months in NYC...by ourselves!
The day following my arrival, I was to report to the hotel to get my security badges and be guided on a quick "walk through" of the property. Now remember, kids, these were the days before websites like Hopstop and Google Maps, so I followed point-by-point directions from the E-train, which were kindly given to me by human resources. I made my way through the WTC's (WTC is short for "World Trade Center") underground mall, and finally, after walking around in cirlces, I found the WTC "employee entrance," which was located down yet another two flights of stairs.
After my badge was processed and I completed my "quickie" tour of the hotel, I was told to arrive the following morning at 7am to begin my internship. I had the rest of the day to myself! I'll never forget walking out of the revolving doors in the hotel lobby and on to the WTC plaza...looking up...and gasping. "Wow." I sat on a bench, looked up again, only to realize that I was getting dizzy. So I layed down, fixated on those two towers scraping the clear blue sky, and smiled. A tear rolled down my cheek. I was finally here.
The building in the middle was my hotel!
May - August, 2001: from waitressing at both of the hotel's restaurants - managing the floor - answering the phone for room service orders - and everything in between, I spent a "grownup" forty hours/week at the World Trade Center. It was there that I learned: working IN restaurants/hotels was not for me - my feet and back hurt from standing for long periods of time - I probably shouldn't have eaten the leftover food on my customer's plates - Spanish is an invaluable language to know/speak - people outside of Texas only know of Lubbock because of Bobby Knight - people outside of Texas hate George Bush. It was also there that I met some of the most interesting, hard working, and kind hearted folks. Two of which have remained dear friends of mine for the past ten years. Bill and Ron were lunch guests during my waitressing rotation and, although their table was not in my "section" when they sat down, I made sure to tell my coworkers that "they were mine" anyways. The dynamic duo were eagerly flipping through the pages of a bright, rainbow splashed "The Gay Guide to New Orleans" book that was the size of a dictionary. From that day onward, a friendship was born. In fact, it was Bill who picked me up from the airport after I officially moved to NYC in 2004.
There are, however, things I regret from that summer: I was the worst intern in history (I was NOT offered a job with Marriott post-internship) - I should have taken advantage of my employee discount and gone to the top of the WTC, to the viewing deck, but shrugged it off, thinking, "I'll do it another time...it'll always be here" - I didn't get enough of my coworker's contact information before I left.
...and two weeks after my return back to Texas, I awoke to my mom's phone call on 9/11/01. In the days and months that followed, the gravity of being so far removed from a city and a situation that I was almost a part of was almost too intense. It was this yearning, this need to get back to New York that kicked every ounce of my being and motivation in to high gear. I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to return to the city that had such a tight grasp on my heart. Although I wouldn't get to call myself a 'New Yorker' for two more years, I fought each and every day until I made that dream a reality. And ever since stepping off of that plane at LaGuardia on May 8, 2004, I've never looked back. Not once.
That's my story. What's yours? God bless you, this country, this city. I love NY.
…
Until we eat again,
Lindsay, The Lunch Belle