by Frank Farance

A bunch of you have been asking and I just wanted to let you know that I'm alive.  I was downtown and saw the first plane crash from the Brooklyn side yesterday morning, from the base of the Brooklyn bridge.

What caught my eye was: I saw a plane flying low heading downtown.  Already I knew something was wrong:  Departing flights from LaGuardia should be very high after take-off, not this low.  Then the plane banked to the left (as a pilot, I recognized it as a smooth maneuver).

And then, all in slow motion, like one's thoughts the instant before you impact in a car crash.  The thoughts were:  Something is wrong... oh no, is that really going to happen... oh no, is that... oh no!

The plane hit the North Tower from the north side.  It went through like meat in a meat grinder, impacting on one side, and debris and flames emerging from the other side.  My next thought was, What happened to the rest of the plane?  Did it hit the other tower?

I immediately called a friend who was in one of the skyscrapers "downstream" of the disaster.  When he answered the phone, I said, panicky, "You're OK?"  He said, "Yes, why?" (unaware).  I told him that a passenger plane crashed into the World Trade Center.  He said he was going to walk over and take a look.  New Yorkers, in their lack of vulnerability, have a tendency to want to get close to things of curiosity rather than run away from disasters.

The next immediate, panicky call was to my wife, Marguerite.  She was taking the subway through the WTC just at the time of the crash.  Couldn't get through... got voice mail.  It was hours later before I found out she was alive and OK.  Subways, buses, everything was closed.  She told a stranger, "I'm pregnant," and he gave her a ride part of the way home.

The next call was to the FAA's Flight Service.  I knew they'd be recording my conversation, so I told them my observations and location of my perspective.  At that time, I thought it was an accident, and I assumed that the NTSB (the agency that investigates airplane crashes) would want this information right away.  In my observations, I noted that there was no smoke and that the maneuvers were smooth.

I was shaking when I called.  My stomach was sick (24 hours later, I still feel sick).  Seeing the plane blow right through, I knew lots of people were dead instantly.  I didn't know how people would make it out from higher floors.

I was stuck in morning traffic and, for the next 15-20 minutes, as traffic moved along, my view was obscured.  When the traffic moved up to the Brooklyn promenade... that beautiful view that we've all seen... I saw the South Tower was on fire, too.  I incorrectly assumed that the debris hit the second building from the first crash.

By this time, all the cell phones were out.  The radio was talking about the disaster.  I was going over the Verrazano Bridge.  And then I started to panic myself:  I'm on a bridge, a famous landmark, trapped in traffic.  I made it to the other side.  At this point, all bridges, tunnels, etc., were closed in New York.  I was stuck on Staten Island.  It took 11 hours to get home.

People were lined up at pay phones.  Quarters became scarce.  It was hot, a "migraine sun" kind of day.

Overall, people were cooperative – no panicking, everything sluggish, but as best as one could hope.

Witnessing the crash, the sight of the buildings collapsing, thinking of all the people and firefighters dying instantly, the people jumping to their death, I just cried.  I was thinking of the people in the building – if they saw the plane coming toward them, what they must have felt.

When I got home, Marguerite met me on the street.  I gave her a big long hug, we both cried.  I parked in front of a fire hydrant where the local Public Safety Officers park.  Normally, they'd quickly ask you to move the car.  They watched us hugging, they understood.

I heard a visitor from Colorado describe New Yorkers yesterday:  normally we avert eye contact but yesterday we were all looking for eyes... to share emotion... so true!

I'm looking forward to giving you all a big hug when I see you!

I've discovered that my personal experience has been a bit different from others'.  I gave this some thought:

Most people have the experience of watching the second plane, not the first.  Just prior to the first plane, it was a beautiful September morning.  As a firsthand witness, there was no warning, no preparation, no anticipation with a news reporter's warning, "A disaster has occurred at the World Trade Center."  Just complete, instantaneous, overwhelming shock.

Most people have seen this on TV.  I didn't see the second plane hit, but watched it later on TV.  Witnessing it first hand, in 3-D, is a very different experience from watching it on TV.