Everyone remembers where they were on September 11th, 2011. It's probably safer to say everyone remembers the fear, anger, confusion, and that crushing feeling of helplessness that came with the events of that dark day. The dead silent skies over most of the country, except in Washington and New York, where and shocked silence was shattered by the sounds of sirens and fighter jets roaring through the skies were the norm for a day or two.
As for me, I was sitting in Miss Parson's science class, right next to the turtles. We were kids, totally oblivious at the time that the Towers were hit, that the plane went down in Pennsylvania, and only 25 miles away the Pentagon was hit and a we just kept going through the motions.
All of the sudden though, Dr. Love, or principal, came over the PA system and started rattling off names of students to report to the main office. A ton of kids got called out for early dismissal by parents who saw the news, leaving those of us left in classes to wonder what the hell was going on outside the walls of school. The teachers knew, but for whatever reason (Probably to keep the level of sanity at a normal level) we weren't told, we all found out from Mom or Dad driving the carpools home.
Now, like I said, most of us remember how we felt watching and hearing what was going on. I was confused and scared but beyond that I just felt like it wasn't happening. I'm sure people will tell you they instantly felt angry, but it was like taking a punch to the face from Joe Louis; you're stunned, you're not ready to throw your hands up, hell, maybe it knocked you to the mat for a few seconds, but you were gonna get up, eventually seeing the footage of the rubble of three buildings and the plane down in the field in Pennsylvania would pull you off that mat and into the ring again.
Then, as the referee started calling numbers, American pride and the human condition rose out of the rubble of three buildings and a field in Pennsylvania, and stepped up into the fight. First responders flocked to New York and Washington, American flags flew in every neighborhood, the military started chomping at the bit, and for once, everyone across the United States, black or white, Democrat or Republican, KFC or Popeyes, picked each other up, dusted each other off, and said "How can I help?"
Now fast forward five years, I was watching a "first account" documentary from New York and that's when the magnitude of 9/11 hit me. Seeing everything all the footage that had been put in front of us on a seemingly endless loop with the addition of survivors accounts and stories from the families of survivors had me (A) crying like a baby and (B) it made cry like a baby.
After probably three hours of watching, I realized I was leaning off the couch (Which was literally right next to the TV set) glued to the TV, emotionally drained, and just shocked at all I had seen and heard from the documentary. It's amazing stuff to see these people who lost parents, lovers, friends,
So why am I writing this? Because I still think about that day and those events a lot. Working in Washington DC clearly brings it up from time to time, the first time I was in New York City reminded me of that day, and naturally watching "United 93" made me think of it. I'm writing about it because, well, because it's been on my chest and on my mind for a while. It is one event I will truly never forget, along with Osama Bin Laden being killed, the Beltway Sniper, a few major breakups (one comes to mind), and (as sad as it sounds in comparison) the Rangers/Caps playoff game where Federov scored the OT game winner.
Also, if you haven't seen "United 93", go out and see it as soon as possible. Also watch "Rescue Me" (It was on FX for like seven years), which tackles the issues of the NYFD/NYPD post 9/11, and all the seasons are on Netflix. And if you're a fan of the blues, check out this
song by John Hiatt.
Epilogue
I've made a lot of fun of the WMATA on here (For good reason) but riding it every day lets you meet a lot of different people with different stories on the world.
Today, I was speaking to a friend of mine, Jason, who works on Capitol Hill and he was telling me that they were on the second floor of the Capitol Building and watched the plume of smoke rise from the Pentagon. He got pretty much everyone listening a little misty eyed and choked up, if by everyone we mean me. The most lasting image for me is what he told me he saw when he left the building; women's shoes scattered all around The Hill from women who decided to run and couldn't do it in heels.
Then the gentleman sitting in front of us turned towards us and chimed in with his story, and a new perspective, at least to me. This gentleman is blind and worked with the Parks Service as a guide (Irony not lost on anyone) and talked about what is was like to hear people bustling around the National Mall and then chaos broke out.
Sadly, Jason and I reached our stop before he could finish his story but for the three blocks we walk together, we talked about it nonstop. Picture that, being there in middle of the darkest day in American history, and not seeing a thing.
Never forget.
