Paulie

Paulie

I’m so grateful I was able to hang on

Paulie was a flight attendant with United Airlines for many years. He worked the night of September 10, 2001, on United Airlines Flight 175, coming into Boston-Logan International Airport–the same plane that would depart the next morning and crash into the South Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City.

This event would not only be a turning point in American history, but in Paulie’s life.

I was in shock for a long, long time and had blinders on me. I wanted revenge for years. Even though I wanted it, I knew I could never get it. It affected my body and mind at the same time.

Paulie continued to work with United as a flight attendant, carrying tons of emotional weight that he could not shake. The thought that the 9/11 crews did not get the recognition they deserved kept him up at night.

Paulie would come home after work, alone and ruminating on how he could right this wrong. He was battling symptoms of PTSD and depression, and after being prescribed painkillers, Paulie developed an opiate addiction. The painkillers became a way for Paulie to numb the pain. He was deeply shaken, but trying to keep it together; not for himself, but for the crew members.

A year after the 9/11 attacks, he came up with a plan to honor the flight attendants by pushing an airline beverage cart from Boston-Logan Airport to Ground Zero. However, Paulie was not yet physically or mentally healthy enough to accomplish this goal.

I was struggling for so long trying to hold it together … I didn’t know if I was going to survive. It was getting that bad. The drive that I had inside me—keeping me going the whole time—was, ‘If I don’t turn my life around, I will never be able to get these guys recognized.’ That’s the only thing I had to hang on to.

“If you reach out (and you have to keep reaching out), eventually, you’re gonna cross paths with the person who’s gonna guide you through that fear.

I believe there is another human on the face of the earth that’s going to help you get through.”

It was just a matter of when Paulie would be ready to confront his emotions. In 2011, Paulie went on medical leave and began to truly process the traumatic event and what it means to him. He knew he could not rush his recovery, and that he would know when the time came if he was ready to start what he calls the “Push.”

Little did I realize when I came up with the idea a year after 9/11 of pushing a beverage cart on the street, that I would do it on the 20th anniversary once I got clean and turned my life around.

After 22 days, 219 miles, and hundreds of stories along the way, Paulie arrived at Ground Zero at 1:15pm on September 11, 2021, his six-year anniversary of sobriety.

Since then, Paulie and other supporters have dedicated a Push to honor the other three flights that perished on 9/11: The Push in 2022 from Dulles-International Airport to the Pentagon National Memorial to honor the heroes of American Airlines Flight 77, then the Push in 2023 across 300 miles for United Flight 93, and finally the fourth Push in 2024 for American Flight 11.

People were coming to me on the street and telling me stories about their lives. I started to realize there was more to what I was doing than honoring the flight crew members. People were inspired to tell me their own personal struggles with their lives and felt comfortable enough to come to me.

To Paulie, he might be just “a guy pushing the cart,” but he has inspired so many people. What started out as an effort to remember the heroes of 9/11, and still is, has also grown into a powerful testament of human connection and healing.

We can’t get through things by ourselves. When we’re in a tough place, no matter what it is, I feel like if you’re sitting there trying to figure it out in your own head, it’s a lot harder.

But if you reach out (and you have to keep reaching out), eventually, you’re gonna cross paths with the person who’s gonna guide you through that fear. I believe there is another human on the face of the earth who’s going to help you get through.