On the morning of September 11, 2001, I travelled from my apartment in Hoboken, NJ on the PATH train into the WTC. Walked through the ground level of the south Tower to the southeast exit, like I did every morning on my way to work on the 41st floor of 42 at 17 state street, the semi-circular building on the southern tip of Manhattan.

I recall walking to my office and thinking what a spectacular day it was. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky and temp in the 70’s.

Arrived at 7:30am as usual. Our company had the entire floor, and at about 8:50am, soon after the north tower was struck unbeknown to us, a colleague brought me over to a north side window. I saw paper streaming down from everywhere. For a fleeting second I thought it was a ticker tape parade, but quickly knew the windows that high didn’t open. A few minutes later, we heard the news that a plane struck the north tower. I went over to that north facing window again to now see flames on the west side of the tower now licking around to the south side. Still the details about what type of plane were unclear. I was speaking with a client, telling him there was no way anyone could have hit that tower unless they intended to given the conditions, when the next plane hit the south tower. The impact and explosion shook our building. I told the client I had to go and we all made for the stairway. I thought it was the north tower exploding. I only found out it was a second commercial jet from a colleague who descended the stairs with me. He said he saw it fly by.

I went across the street into Liberty State Park to assess my next move. The PATH and ferry back to Hoboken from WTC were not accessible, so I waited in the park for further developments. Things went from horrible to worse when at approximately 10am, I heard a distant rumbling, that at the moment seemed to go on endlessly. I then saw this enormous dust cloud shooting down the street through the buildings. I saw people running away from it at a distance. Within a minute, it enveloped me, and all of lower Manhattan. The sun was completely blotted out. Like many thousands, I headed north on the FDR drive, finally emerging from the cloud at about the location of the south street seaport. Looking back toward the Towers, I saw one and didn’t see the other. I thought part of the tower collapsed, not realizing the whole tower had. I tried calling my wife several times, but could not get cel service, as the south tower had collapsed with its giant cel tower. I decided to walk up to my wife’s office on 47th street and 6th avenue.

I finally got cel service at 14th street and the east side. I got through to my wife to let her know I was ok, and that I’d meet her at her office. As I walked north and west, I stopped at points to try and listen to radios with small crowds around them to try and understand what was happening. This was before the era of smart phones. I heard the Pentagon was attacked as well at one of those stops. You could tell people were understandably worried.

Arriving at my wife’s office, and assuring her I was ok, I found a restroom to wash as much of the dust off me as I could. It was irritating my skin. I blew my nose and dark, almost black mucous came out. The dust was in my nose, in my ears and presumably in my lungs even though I put my shirt over my nose and mouth as I walked through the dust cloud.

My wife and I called our sister in law who also lived in Hoboken, and was also working in the city that day, and made a plan to meet at the west side highway at 39th street, as we heard ferry service back to NJ was beginning again. We met up, and got into a long line. While standing there, this line grew into the thousands. I’ve never seen so many people in New York City line up completely orderly and quiet. It was a stunned silence as US military jets flew overhead in protection of NYC. At that moment, the experience felt surreal. Post shock, the reality of what happened came crashing down.

I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances at Cantor Fitzgerald. An employee of Cantor came to work for our firm that week, saving his life. One of our employees who had wanted to go to Cantor got held up on a contract dispute preventing him from starting and saving his life.

When I got home that evening, I looked at my 2 year old son and my pregnant wife and wondered what kind of world I was bringing my children into.

I tell this story as a proud and grateful American. Proud of this country’s accomplishments and resolve. Grateful for our first responders. Grateful for our service members. Proud of the way all Americans rallied and united around this tragedy. Twenty-five years later, I pray it will not take another 9/11 to unite us again.