Many suffered and continue to suffer, the author knows this. He offers the following as his own imperfect recollection of a fragmented memory. - OT Editor
originally posted on OpportunisticTrader.com
-morning risk meetings -“a plane crashed into the wtc..” - seeing it from window.. dismissing it as a Cessna.. - checking market reaction, noting we had positive gamma to hedge in oil, gold and sugar mkt spikes, negative in oil products and NG. - watching replay on tv as second plane hits outside window. - telling all to leave. -cell phones down - stepping outside and freezing in disbelief. - watching scraps of metal fall and twist as they plummeted. - the staircase - realizing not all were metal. - not comprehending what was seen, but feeling it. - feeling energized, knowing what to do. - smell of gas line leaks - Brooklyn bridge vibrating as people walked across it - fiancé trapped in subway thinking she was dead - pulling people out of offices in denial - Chi - Mott - all of Carr futures team - smell of burnt concrete
-mind running through risks of staying vs leaving the island - trying to rent a boat to get team off the island - no one would. consider stealing one - deciding to split up and get in multiple pay phone lines to make calls. - wondering if whole eastern coast was under attack - ATM lines.. - no one panicked. proudest have ever been of them - brown cloud in air...wondering if anthrax was on plane. Not saying it. - listening to reports from an abandoned car radio in middle of west side highway as tower collapsed. - telling all to split up and then meet at single place later for a head count check. - wanting to go back, staying with team. - watching the accordion like collapse in disbelief. - waiting for smoke to clear - seeing nothing. - Mott - Chi - sept 12 in DC with fiancé aggregating 13 portfolios in Asia/ Europe, just to keep mind off what was witnessed and preserve livelihoods. - No statements.. pen and paper and inventories... in the zone - remembering how helpful the UK guys were.. suspending their OTC sugar and oil rules for us. - fielding calls from other traders and FCMs looking for exit liquidity of positions in gold. - doing curb trades and agreeing to settle up cash later in good faith to get people flat. - sept 13th - inexplicably collapsing just hours after last trades done. - paralyzed for 8 hours in a bathroom with no direct reason- body convulsing -visceral reaction to an event the mind can’t make sense of. - sept 14th unapproachable by fiancé seeking a target for rage.. finding no one worthy. Silent. - sept 15th still unable to understand. Turn to music. -Roy Harper’s “black cloud of Islam” -listen to it for 3 hours straight rocking back and forth.
-there is no justification for the action. and to think revenge will fix it is insane.
-want revenge... msm saying thing like "did we bring this on ourselves?" why not ask the columbine kids if they deserved it? fuck you - understanding that open markets and facilitating others is the only way to contribute right now.
Next trading day and beyond: - wanting to do more. Guilt grows. Not doing enough. -wanting to take a full page ad in nyt to offer staffing support to cantor Fitzgerald after seeing the owner crying on air. -Being advised it was a “silly idea” by team - onboard 4 high risk traders post event who needed backing. - move FCMs to keep a trader afloat - making money from event, then losing it all and multiples more in some self destructive guilt driven spiral over the next year. - it’s Chris and 1999 all over again. - trading 5 products, testing software, giving 70-30 deals- complete suicidal arrogance. - borrowing, bailing out, then borrowing again from jr. partners to stay afloat. - betrayed myself - I deserve it. I don’t. - never had heart to ask traders for “good faith settle ups”. -Diagnosed with complex ptsd. -Laugh it off... I survived.
- 9/11 legacy is the scrolling news ticker on cable news that makes me sick. reminds me of help not given.
-2003-2008- persevere, secure family future. feel hollow. something wrong.
-betrayed again: time heals all wounds, but scars remain and demand vigilance.
- stopping. peripheral vision lost, flashing lights, nausea. Wasn’t supposed to be like this today. Wasn’t for years.
-Mott- 6 inches of space between us for years that were unfillable in character, self-awareness and humor. A guy who trusted you first. A guy you were honored to be asked in that Cuban Castilian upper class accent “Hey- are you fading me?” And you could answer without him punishing you. -Dennis- metals mentor- implacable under pressure, gentleman and purveyor of wisdom. rivers run deep
Dedicated to the people who continue to relive the senselessness of the tragedy that befell them that day.
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