Picture it: New York City, 1993. Flannel is in, grunge is everything, and the World Trade Center is standing tall—until, surprise! Some guys with a Ryder van decide to test out what happens when you park a literal ton of explosives in an underground garage.
Turns out, it’s not great.
At 12:18 p.m. on February 26, a massive bomb detonates beneath the North Tower, blowing a 150-foot-wide crater through the parking structure, knocking out power, and sending thousands of people scrambling down pitch-black stairwells in an unplanned midday cardio session. Tragically, six innocent people lose their lives, over a thousand more are injured, and New Yorkers have their lunch plans rudely interrupted by what turns out to be the first major terrorist attack on the Twin Towers.
And the real kicker? The guys who did it wanted the whole building to fall—like, in a domino effect, one tower toppling into the other. Which, first of all, rude. And second of all, this is New York! If people wanted things to crash into each other and cause chaos, they’d just try to merge onto the FDR during rush hour.
The perpetrators, led by a guy named Ramzi Yousef, thought this would be their big moment. Instead, their van bomb left a gaping hole in the basement and some really angry structural engineers. But—you know—points for enthusiasm? Just kidding. No points. Straight to jail.
Now, the investigation into this disaster was actually pretty impressive. In a move that makes criminals everywhere look even dumber, authorities found a VIN number in the wreckage and traced it back to—you guessed it—the Ryder rental van. Even better, one of the guys responsible, Mohammed Salameh, went back to the rental agency twice demanding his deposit back. That’s right. He tried to get a refund on a truck he blew up. Honestly, at that point, just let the guy rot in prison and tell him he still owes late fees.
But here’s the thing: this wasn’t just a one-off attack. It was a giant, flashing neon sign saying, “HEY, THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN.” And what did we do? Mostly just shrugged, patched up the hole, and went back to business as usual. We treated it like a New Yorker treats a subway delay: annoyed, inconvenienced, but ultimately moving on because who has time for existential dread?
Then came 2001. And suddenly, what had seemed like a failed attack in 1993 became the warning we should have listened to. Because these guys tried to take down the Twin Towers once—and then someone else came along and actually did it. The worst part? We knew they wanted to. They told us. It’s like someone saying, “Hey, I’m gonna steal your lunch tomorrow,” and you’re just like, “Oh, okay,” and then bam, no sandwich. Except, you know, much, much worse.
Fast forward to today, and guess what? People are on edge again—because terrorism never actually went away. It just shapeshifted. Whether it’s bombs in basements, planes in buildings, or explosions in Louisiana, the goal is always the same: to scare the hell out of everyone, destabilize whatever they can, and remind us that we’re not as safe as we like to think. And let’s be honest, we’re already barely holding it together. One more thing goes wrong in this country, and we’re all gonna collectively snap and start screaming in unison like it’s the world’s worst karaoke night.
So, what do we do? For starters, we remember February 26, 1993, not just as some terrible day in history, but as a lesson—one we should’ve learned the first time. We honor the six people whose lives were stolen that day:
- John DiGiovanni, 45, a dental products salesman.
- Robert Kirkpatrick, 61, a senior structural maintenance supervisor.
- Stephen Knapp, 47, chief maintenance supervisor.
- Bill Macko, 57, general maintenance supervisor.
- Wilfredo Mercado, 37, a receiving agent for the Windows on the World restaurant.
- Monica Rodriguez Smith, 35, a secretary who was seven months pregnant.
These were real people, not just names on a list. They deserved better.
And look, no one’s saying you have to live in a state of paranoia. That’s exhausting. But maybe, just maybe, we stop ignoring the giant warning signs history keeps throwing in our faces. Otherwise, we’re just stuck in the world’s worst version of Groundhog Day, except instead of Bill Murray, it’s just one national security failure after another.
So, next time someone tries to warn us about a terrorist threat, let’s not brush it off like it’s just another bad Monday. Because the last time we did that? We got 9/11. And nobody—nobody—wants a sequel.
