When you get all the people in my department together for lunch, conversation takes some inexplicably strange turns. Today, we discussed everything from the aftermath of Chernobyl to frequent flyer mile programs to the Grey's Anatomy season finale until we finally landed on 9/11.
People will always remember where they were on that day. It was the second day of Renee's honeymoon. Eric hadn't come to the office because he had to take his car to the mechanic's. Several people were already at the office before anything happened. Vinnie's friend was stuck in the traffic next to the Pentagon. The plane that hit there flew directly over her car. She watched as the jetliner hit the side of the building. Almost everyone remembered seeing the smoke as the headed home.
I was in Houghton.
It was a perfectly lovely day.
I was in a classroom on the third floor of the NAB
waiting for Kingdon's OT Prophets 1 to begin.
One of my classmates walked in and said,
"Two planes just flew into the World Trade Center."
Blank looks and some grunts of disbelief from the other students in the room.
"You're kidding...whatever."
"I watched it live..."
Dr. Kingdon arrived on time.
He asked if anyone wanted to say anything.
No one did.
Dr. Kingdon prayed...
then proceeded with class.
Richard arrived a little late.
He was trying to reach his mother in New Jersey.
His dad worked at the WTC on a fairly regular basis.
The phone lines were jammed and he couldn't get through.
There was an assembly.
I don't think we had afternoon classes, but that detail slips my mind.
What I remember is sitting in front of the big screen TV in the Campus Center Lounge
watching the constant replay of the crashes and eventual collapses.
I remember seeing people hurtling to their deaths from windows hundreds of feet off the ground.
I remember learning of the third and fourth planes.
I remember weeping over the futility of it all.
I remember thinking that I would never forget the day the world ended.
Where were you?
2 comments:
I was at home in bed, trying to fall back asleep when my grandmother called and told us. I didn't her seriously at first, because she's got a habit of watching the news, and then obsessing over the tragedies. But then my dad turned it on to catch the weather and we saw the coverage. So I'd missed the impact and got the talking heads...but still ended up watching all day because I had to fly across the ocean in two days. And it was my first plane ride. It was alittle crazy--the travel agent called our house--first the plane wasn't flying, and then it was. And then again, it wasn't and finally she called again, the day of the flight to tell me that the border would be opening in at noon, and since the Canadian government was clearing air marshals to go to Pearsen, the plane had gotten clearance to fly after all. (Later I had found out that Dr. Airhart had called my house to ask if I was ok and still making the trip, which I think surprised me the most--how could I pass up London?) So, anyways, we packed, jumped in the car, and then it took a good hour to just get over the bridge, not only because of the high traffic volume, but also because everybody's trunk had to be searched. After eventually reaching the airport, my mother and I ended up spending another two and a half hours in line, and then I waited another hour and a half for the baglog of planes to clear at the gates, while watching the air marshals patrol in full Storm Trooper gear. I think that I felt more exhilirated than scared, but it helped that as an El-Al plane was supposed to take off right before mine, so i saw about half a dozen Hasidic rabbis pray before their flight took off...Anyways, a flight that was supposed to take off on September 13th at 9:35PM ended up leaving at 1:35AM, and I ended up alittle shellshocked and kicking around London by myself, since none of the other Houghton students had flown from Canada, and the Canadian airspace had opened a week earlier than the American one did...and as I haven't flown since, that's been my one and only trip on a plane...
Marlene
I was eating breakfast in the cafeteria when a crowd of people gathered around the TV in the "sporty" area. I ignored it because I figured it was something sensationalized and pop culture-ish, and went to American Fiction. Alice squeezed in right before class started (and she's usually there WAAAAY early) and whispered that her mother had called to say planes had crashed into some building in New York, but we figured it was just a random crash. We hadn't heard of the second, or third, or fourth yet. Dr. Stephen Woolsey asked if there were any prayer concerns, and, since neither of us had any details, we said nothing. After class, all students were immediately directed to the chapel for a briefing of sorts and prayer. We still had classes becase the administration wouldn't "let terrorism win" or "disrupt our lives." I went back to the townhouse to check on my friend doing an internship in DC for the semester and watch the news. Then I went to Abnormal Psychology. Dr. Young said a brief prayer for those who lost their lives and those responsible, and we went on with the lecture like nothing had happened. Back to the house to watch the news and find out the fourth plane crashed about two miles from a camp I had worked at. The red cross was setting up their stations there in case of survivors. FBI officials replaced the red cross. Mom called to say that my brother, who was scheduled to go to New York for an art class in a week, was a basketcase. And she had to plan a community prayer service for all the local churches....
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