Brokedown Palace: Reflections On 9/11’s 23rd Anniversary And The Role Of Cannabis In Recovery
By Todd Harrison via Cannabis Confidential (September 11)
“It’s a far gone lullaby sung many years ago; mama, mama many worlds I’ve come since I first left home “ Grateful Dead
It was a beautiful, crisp September morning as I looked up from my Wall Street Journal to watch the sunrise over the East River. It was a mindful moment, a pause to reflect on the beauty of the world and my place in life.
That was the first thing I remember about 9/11, how sharp the horizon was as dawn illuminated lower Manhattan.
I had hundreds of trading positions and millions of dollars in risk waiting for me downtown but none of that mattered as my driver navigated the FDR and I soaked in the scene.
I was the president of a $400 million hedge fund and as bearish as we were on the macro landscape, we were positioned very long heading into that fateful day.
As I settled into my turret and downed my second cup of coffee, Nokia pre-announced a negative quarter and the stock shot 5% higher.
That was our signal the market was washed out, proof positive traders were caught short and scrambling to cover. We pressed our bet, buying SPY and QQQ hand over fist, twisting the knife into the bears that had overstayed their welcome.
The first boom shook our office walls, causing everyone to stop what they were doing.
“What the hell was that?” One of the analysts yelled “The World Trade Center’s on fire!” as we turned to see flames raging and black smoke billowing into the clear blue sky.
At 40 Fulton Street, we were a few blocks away from the towers and on the 24th floor, we had a bird’s eye view. The mainstream media had yet to pick up the story, which only added to the confusion as we watched it unfold in real-time.
I turned to share the news on TheStreet.com, posting commentary at 8:47 A.M:
“A bomb has exploded in the WTC… may God have mercy on those innocent souls.”
As the initial shock began to fade and the futures swung wildly in 10-20 handle clips, we made some sales; but when reports emerged that a commuter plane had crashed, we scooped our inventory back as our eyes fixated on the scene outside.
I’ve since learned that the reason I couldn’t look away was that my mind had no way to process the information; that, no matter how hard I tried to mentally digest what my eyes were seeing, there was no place to “file” images of human beings holding hands and jumping off the World Trade Center.
It’s an image I can’t shake to this day, bodies falling through a maze of confetti like ants from a tree. It’s a sight that I wish I never saw.
We huddled by our window with our mouths open as somebody repeated “Oh, my God!” behind us.
An airplane approached from the distance and circled behind the second tower, entering it from behind. In slow motion, the ka-boom again shook the foundation of our building as the fireball exploded directly toward us.
I thought, “This is how I’m going to die” as we gathered our staff and rushed them out the door and down the stairwell.
I raced back to my turret before leaving and quickly wrote “We’re evacuating our building…” and sent it to my editors, unsure if they would get it.
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The Duck and Cover
Once outside, we instinctively ran toward the Seaport. I remember thinking that worst case, we could dive into the East River and take our chances there.
I overheard someone say that the Pentagon was attacked. The Pentagon? Wasn’t that air space protected? With no cell or internet service, there was no way to access any information; we were cut off from the world.
My mind raced as I thought about friends who …