I’m not one to put on Sade records and wallow in sadness; I never have been.

On this day, 8 years ago, I was living in New York City, and on my way to work at Sony. At 8:46am, I was sitting on the N train in Astoria, Queens, and I remember it so vividly, because as soon as I walked out of my apartment building, the perfection in the weather and absolutely clear, turquoise sky seemed surreal. Little did I know just how surreal would become unreal – reminded me of the day we buried my grandmother several years before – the weather was just as perfect.

When I got to the office, everyone was huddled around a TV watching the events unfold. When I asked what everyone was looking at, they said an airplane hit one of the World Trade Center towers. The cynic that I am thought, how dumb could a pilot be to hit the WTC, with all that airspace around, and plenty of options to ditch if they had to. Then I realized the severity of the situation...

I then went into stare mode and shock, when I just realized that a co-worker of ours, my friend, Rosalynne, had just left Sony to go work for AIG at the WTC not two weeks before. I imagined the worst, but it wasn’t until a week later that we had heard from her. As it turned out, she was in the tower that got hit first. Later, she told me that she and her manager had ignored the announcements to stay in the building and that it was not necessary to evacuate. Following her instincts she walked down about 50 flights of stairs to exit. About an hour later, her building collapsed. Since then, I’ve never ignored my instincts.

While watching the first tower burn on TV, around 9:15 (I don’t remember exactly – everything seemed to stand still) the news showed a second plane hit the other tower. I was in a huddle with about eight other people watching the events unfold, and I whispered under my breath, but just loud enough for the woman next to me to hear, “A plane just hit the other tower.” She replied, “No, that’s just the replay. They keep playing it over and over.” Still no one quite got it. Then I replied, “If that’s a replay, then why is the other tower burning already?” GASP! Everyone was so stunned that they completely missed seeing the second plane hit.

I thought this has to be some kind of network/cable television Orwellian hoax. I was still waiting to wake up from some awful dream. But I never did.

It’s no secret that we are so intertwined with technology that we take it so much for granted. Just yesterday, I left the house for no more than an hour to run an errand, and when I was a block away I realized I left my cell phone at home. I actually contemplated turning the car around to go get it. I didn’t, but I came really close.

On that fateful day, cell phones and the Internet had crashed because so many people were trying to get information about what was happening in real time, and if their loved one’s were okay.

There was nothing left to do, but leave the office and go home (if you could get there). Manhattan was on lock down – no traffic in or out. The only real option was to walk around the city until they let everyone out. Luckily, I ran into a friend of mine who was friends with a doorman who worked in a building on Park Avenue a block over from my office. Since I had my gym gear with me, I asked if I could use their locker room to change my clothes.

After that, my friend and I walked to Central Park and sat in Sheep Meadow along with thousands of others who had nowhere else to go. The city was eerily quiet – not even a taxicab horn honking. The only noise that reminded you of the severity of the situation were the Air Force jets roaring above the city on patrol. It was reassuring that our bravest on the ground, the sea and in the sky were watching over us in our time of need.

From Central Park, we walked over to the West Side and the piers. On the way, we passed a line that must have been wrapped completely around the block full of people waiting in line to donate blood, food, clothing, etc. The tragedy hadn’t even been into its third hour and New Yorkers were right there, front and center to give of their belongings and time to save lives. Humanity still exists, y’all!

At the West Side piers, we looked down along the Hudson and saw Wall Street on fire. Still, I didn’t quite know what to make of it all.

Later that afternoon, the bridges were finally opened to pedestrian traffic, so I headed across the Queensboro Bridge back to my apartment in Astoria – about four miles from Manhattan. When I got home, I went up on the roof of my building and could see what was left of the Towers – the smoke and ash – burning in the distance, the sun setting, with a burnt smell of soot wafting all over the place. Complete devastation.

As it turns out, and coincidentally, I'll be flying to NYC this evening for a quick trip to see the San Gennaro Festival. It should be a fun trip, but not without remembrance.

To this day, and it may sound ridiculous for me to say, but September 11, 2001 still has not quite hit me yet. Maybe my resolve was hardened by living in NYC for so many years, maybe it was because I had become desensitized by the constant showing of violence in the media, or maybe it’s a survival technique. Whatever it is, it helped me get through that day, and still does.

I know someday eventually all that pain will hit me, but for now, the best I can hope for is that I’m in a safe place when that happens.