Jay Patello Story
Coloradoan Op. Ed written by Jason Patello that ran Sept 8, 2016.
Is it possible that the worst day of your life puts you on a path to unbridled joy? That an event so tragic and unimaginable can deliver you to a place of happiness you didn’t even know possible?
IIn September 2001, I worked for a company located on the 15th floor of 7 Dey St. in New York City, across from the World Trade Center. It was such a cool area to work in. A door in the office opened to a fire escape where you could listen to the music playing in the plaza. Go out onto the street and every kind of store you could think of was within walking distance. The New York Stock Exchange was, as well. Churches. Synagogues. You name it.
On Sept. 11, 2001 my world changed. So did that of others. Sons and daughters lost parents. Parents lost children. Brothers and sisters lost siblings. Wives and husbands lost their soul mates. It’s taken me 15 years to understand how this evil tragedy would have a more profound impact on me than I could ever truly appreciate.
My alarm clock rings. Just five more minutes. An hour later I wake up and curse my clock for not waking me up sooner. I’m late again. Shower, dress and walk the dog in 30 minutes so I can catch the 7:30 a.m. train. I remember thinking on the drive to the train station how beautiful a day it is. Blues skies. No clouds. Just a good day to be alive.
At Penn Station, I catch the E Train to WTC plaza. On the subway, the train stops and the speaker makes a sound. No one understands what the hell the person is saying. We just know we’re not moving and we’re all going to be late. Thank you, God. I now have my excuse for why I’m late.
Now we are going backwards. I hate mass transit! The speaker again. What the hell are you saying? When we move back to the Canal Street stop, the doors open and I remember wondering where everyone is and why the platform is empty. I’m sure if I think hard enough I can’t remember a time when there was no one in sight in NYC.
We’re herded to a narrow escalator, what looks like an escape to light, only to find the horror on the other side. When I come out to the light, my first sight is of everyone looking up. When I look, I can see it. Your mind can’t process the enormity of it because the sight you’re seeing is beyond the realm of reality. The tops of both buildings of the World Trade Center are on fire.
I ask a woman standing next to me what happened.
“Someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center,” she says.
She must know exactly because she says it without hesitation, so I think to myself, “dumbass,” and hope that no one is hurt, knowing that dummy is a goner. The New York City Fire Department will have the fire out and life will go on.
I’m still thinking a small plane crashed into the buildings.
I make it to Dey Street. A policeman stops me and asks what I’m doing.
“Going to the office” I say.
The look he gave me was half “are you serious?” and half “can’t you see?”
He yells, “You have to get the hell out of here! Now! We’re under a terrorist attack! Leave! Now!”
And with that, he turns and continues on his way, toward the buildings. Putting his own life in extreme danger to help others. To this day, I wonder if and hope he made it out alive.
I credit him with saving my life. The mind is not able to comprehend something so outside the realm of reason, so it creates a false narrative.
How much evil can a person have inside to create such carnage? This isn’t just a plane that crashed, but a jetliner full of living people and explosive fuel that was intentionally used as a missile to incur catastrophe. My mind begins to process reality.
Then I look up. I should have just turned and walked away.
I see papers floating through the sky like kites, except there is no wind. I realize that I’ve been walking through this for the last several blocks but I was focused on my day. Debris is littered on the street like the street-sweepers union has been on strike for a month. Something just dropped off the building. There’s another. And another. And another. What the hell!? Then I see them moving. Is that…? Can’t be.
The image will stick with me for a long time. How horrible can it be inside that it’s better to jump? I see the flames coming out of the building and hope that God will have mercy on their souls.
I walk several blocks, then hear someone shout that the buildings are coming down.
The first thought is they’re topping over, not dropping straight down. And I run like I’ve never run before. I look over my shoulder and see the most breathtaking sight. A cloud of smoke and debris swallowing everything in its way.
I’m dead. I know it.
Then I see a woman across the street fall and something else clicks. Help her. I run over, pick her up and swing her around the corner. I swing her into a loading dock of a post office. Before the cloud comes and they close the bay door, a couple other guys and I scream for people to come our way. There’s safety here, even though we have no way of knowing.
Inside, everyone is panicked. Post office employees were trying to process what happened themselves; they were worried about people coming around the counter against federal law.
Between the rising of emotions in the office and the feeling of helplessness that if another building comes down I can’t run, I force my way out. I get a couple of blocks and the next one comes down. No safe haven. Just the cloud.
The cloud envelops me and I wait for it. The end of my life. It’s a weird feeling, nerve-wracking and comforting at the same time. But it never comes. Instead I just cough from the cloud.
I walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to safety. On the way, I finally get a signal on my phone and connect with my dad. My dad’s a tough, old school Italian from Queens. For the first time in my life, I heard my dad cry. Tears of joy that today was not the day for his son to die.
On the other side, in Brooklyn, a new site befalls me. Just about every merchant is standing out front of his or her shop, passing out water to drink, handing wet towels to wipe the dust off. They saw the whole thing and realized they needed to help.
New York has this reputation (well-earned) of being self-centered. On Sept. 11, humanity outstripped being a New Yorker, and everyone did what they could to help. I will always be proud to say I’m a New Yorker.
I get home to Long Beach. I turn on the television and see the images I have just lived through. I take my suit off and shower away the dust … and cry.
Cry for the abrupt destruction of lives lost and for their loved ones still alive. Cry for those who don’t know if their loved ones are even alive. Cry that there is such evil in the world that this is even possible.
I write this for the first time in my life to show just how tragic this was for me. For us. But also about how somehow, good can also come.
About six months later, a friend tells me to come to his timeshare in Cancun. He’s been going for years. This time I decide I need to go. The depression is taking hold.
About three months after 9/11, our office reopened. Working there every day was horrible. Every time you smiled, the smile was stolen, like a thief in the night, by the grief of what lay 100 feet from our door. No more walking the streets to shop or people watch. Just sadness.
On the day after I landed in Cancun, on an escape from destruction, evil, catastrophe, I met my wife.
After the events of 9/11, I never wanted to wonder “what if.” So in September 2002, the day after the first anniversary of 9/11, I packed my belongings and moved to Chicago to see where life would take me. And again in 2006, asking the same question, we moved to Fort Collins.
With the love of my life — we’ve been together for 14 years and just celebrated 10 years of marriage — and two beautiful children that I adore with all my heart, I can truly say I’ve never been happier.
For every emotion, there is an opposite. And out of unimaginable evil, I have found incomparable love and joy. Life is a journey, and sometimes it takes time to realize the destination.
Jason Patello, 42, grew up in New York and moved to Fort Collins with his wife, Michelle, in 2006. They have two children age 9 and 7 and are raising their kids to have a heart full of love and laughter, and a desire to never stop learning.