by Chris Torgersen

Created on: September 12, 2009

My perspective on visiting Ground Zero is a bit different than that of most people. In order to fully express the meaning of the site to me and what visiting it for the first time meant, I must first recount my experience of the infamous day that made it what it is now.

The early morning of September 11, 2001, was spectacularly beautiful. A crystal clear blue sky and warm breeze were enough to remind New Yorkers that summer wasn't over yet. There were still a few more weeks before we would need to wear jackets every day, and it seemed like a perfect day for a walk in the city.

As I exited the subway, having just parted ways with my girlfriend down below, I made my way to work with a smile. I was 26 years old and working for a bookstore, where I processed special orders for customers back when such a service was still standard at bookstores. My office was one level below the ground in Building 5 of the World Trade Center. My girlfriend worked there as well - we'd met there, in fact - but it was her day off.

I liked getting in around 7am which allowed me to leave at 3:30 and have the rest of the day to myself. I figured I'd take a stroll around the city after work and breathe in the last of the summer. Yes, summer was indeed coming to an end soon, but before it did, the world as I knew it would come crashing down.

A little before 9am, I was sitting at my desk and chatting to a coworker. When we heard a loud boom from somewhere up above, we figured it was probably either an escalator breaking down or some truck backfiring outside. We paused only briefly and then continued our conversation. However, within a minute or so, panic-faced people began to flood into the store from the concourse just outside my office, which connected all the buildings underground.

I followed them out, not knowing what to expect. When I saw the hole in the building, it was more than my mind could fully take in. The next few minutes were pure horror. Desperate jumpers plummeted to their deaths as I joined the crowd's wailing sorrow. People screamed. People cried.

We thought it was an accident. The idea that someone would intentionally fly a plane into the World Trade Center was the stuff of Hollywood movies, not something anyone seriously thought anyone else capable of actually doing. As soon as we found out it had been a plane and not a bomb, most of us sighed in relief, for although it was tragic, it meant tragedy rather than malice.

Then the second plane hit.

I did not stay to watch

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