In September 2001, I was a month into my junior year of college. Junior year of college, if I've never made this clear, was the most awesome year ever in the whole world ever. The only thing that compared was the summer before junior year of college. As was my usual, I loaded up my classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, having late days into evenings those days, but one, maybe two classes on Tuesdays or Thursdays, which NEVER began before 10:00 a.m. Fall semester junior year, I had one class on Tuesdays, which didn't begin until 3:00 p.m., so Mondays were usually Monday Night Fun Nights at Wifey's. If I came home and didn't just sleep on her couch of pillows, it was late. Usually really late. This is particularly true if the neighbors called in a noise complaint because we were singing far too loudly (yet slyly had only Extreme's More Than Words playing at a respectful--if playing that song can ever be respectful--level when the officers arrived at our door). And I would sleep late. Usually really late. Am I embarrassed to admit that I ocassionally had to set an alarm so I could get up and ready to leave in time for a 3:00 p.m. class? Um no--I was in college, single, diligently working to strengthen a tolerance I needed for Southpong on Wednesdays, and making incredible grades so whatever.
While I don't remember what I did on September 10, 2001, I have no reason to believe it was any different than I described above, except for the call to law enforcement and slow rock karaoke. I do know that I was sleeping soundly when my phone rang a little before 9:00 a.m. and wondered in a very lady-like way, "Who the F is calling me before 9:00 a.m. on a Tuesday?" It was my Mommie, who was informing me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I believe my audible response was little more than "Huh, wow" given my compromised mental state and inability to concentrate at such an ungodly morning hour but I disinctly remember thinking, "What a horrible pilot." I was sleeping soundly again within 30 seconds of hanging up with my mom.
When she called again a few minutes later, it was only slightly less early and I was again awakened from a deep sleep so my ability to comprehend anything other than the need to press "talk" on the phone so that annoying noise would stop was severely impaired. When she told me a plane had hit the OTHER tower, I'm slightly ashamed to admit, I said "really?" but I thought "What an unfortunate coincidence, what are the chances?" Did I mention that I usually partied late into Monday nights? When we hung up, I lay my head back on my fluffy pillow and drifted back to sleep.
The phone rang a third time and my mother, in a tone I don't hear from her very often, exclaimed, "Another plane has hit the Pentagon." At this point, I thought something might be going on and I should maybe get up.
That which would become known as simply "September 11" had been on the news for well over an hour and after three phone calls and three plane crashes, I finally decided to get out of bed. My brother was active-duty Navy at the time, so the attack on the Pentagon was the incident that finally lit the match under me to start the day and see if maybe some of this was possibly on the news.
I wouldn't see any live news reports for a while because our cable was out. I was relying on news websites and my friends' AIM Away Messages to inform me. After a while, I surprisingly got an email from my brother who couldn't say much more than he was okay, they were on their highest level of alert at the base, but they believed it was terrorism and not to worry about him because terrorists largely concentrate attacks on civilian targets, not military ones.
It was still an hour or two before we got our cable back but by that time I had seen the crash footage and burning buildings a hundred times. I was dreading getting ready for class for fear I'd miss something and all I wanted to do was sit down and watch the damn news. Thankfully, just before I was making final preparations to leave, my school canceled classes for the rest of the day and I could sit in the floor and watch TV. When my roommate finally came home from her canceled classes, we decided to go and give blood. The line was unbelievable. I'd never seen anything like it before. I've never seen anything like it since.
I don't remember what I did the night before, and I don't remember what I did the day after except go to class where all of my professors and instructors had no intention of doing anything other than allowing us students to reflect and talk. I do remember, however, that when my mother called the first time, I was lying on my right side. When she called the second time, I was on my back. When she called the third time, I rolled out of the right side of the bed and turned on the TV, saw snow, and went immediately to the computer, where the first away message I looked at was Wifey's, I immediately IMed my Mommie and Dave and I then pulled up Internet Explorer and waited for Fox News and CNN to load while I emailed my brother. I remember what the box looked like on my college website that informed the public that classes were canceled for the remainder of the day and I remember distinctly my roommate's face and how she was holding her right hand over her mouth while tears streamed down her face and she dropped her backpack as soon as she entered the living room from the kitchen and yelled, "What the Hell is going on?"
Within a day I understood how my mother could remember so vividly where she was when she heard JFK had been shot (she was on the playground in 3rd grade, in the swings if I remember correctly). I get it. I'll remember what I was thinking and what I was feeling for what I can only assume is forever. I had no one about whom to be concerned once I knew my brother was okay, so I was in not personally affected by that day. I didn't know anyone who suffered losses. I didn't even know someone who knows someone who did. So, it's never ceased to amaze me how events like that will be forever burned into our memory, whether it has anything to do with us personally or not.
It's also never ceased to amaze me how absolutely ridiculous my initial response was. And the second one too.
