I watched the US Open (tennis) last Saturday for the first time since 9/08/01, my last Saturday in the Marriott World Trade Center. Tonight, I'm under the weather. My energy is low. I'm going to bed early. Tomorrow, I may have to work from home, if I'm clearly a train wreck by the time I wake up.
Those feelings creep back. The feeling you get when a place you just spent time in, no longer exists. The feeling that if I hadn't been so broke that weekend, I would have most likely extended my hotel stay through 9/11/01, instead of returning to Boston on 9/9/01. One of my buddies, I believe, still may have the pen from that hotel that ceased to exist come that fateful Tuesday. I still have the Metro Card, subway pass from the World Trade Center station, I bought (and the debit card receipt) on our way to see Phantom of the Opera, off Broadway.
I remember what a beautiful weekend it was. In fact it was the best time I ever had in New York, by far. I also will never forget the absolutely spectacular morning Tuesday, 9/11/01 was, as I walked into my office building (in Cambridge at the time) at a little before 8:00 a.m. A cool blue sky, with not a single cloud to be seen. A perfect 76 degrees. Now, any day in September that resembles that, gives me a knot in my stomach.
I'll talk to one of my buddies from that weekend soon enough, and we'll probably have that odd silence we do, knowing we basically dodged a bullet. For those who didn't, we remember you, always.
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