September 11, 2001. I was in the 9th grade. That particular morning I was sitting in Dr. Tidwell's French 2 class. We were playing "vocabulary battleship"- something we did often when Dr. Tidwell didn't really feel like teaching. Another teacher pulled her into the hallway, she came back a moment later and said "a plane has hit the world trade center"- hardly any of us knew what the world trade center was. She then turned the TV to the news coverage.
I was really confused. Only the first tower had been hit at that point. Smoke was billowing out of the building. All I could think is "How did they not see that huge building?" I thought it was an accident. Like the plane's navigation system had messed up and they just ran into the building. Then the second plane hit. And that's when my ridiculous little 9th grade mind got what was going on.
The morning continued to unfold. Reports of other hijacked planes. About an hour after first hearing the news I had a horrible realization. My mother was traveling. She was on one of her many business trips, this particular trip was to Dallas. Within minutes of realizing this I was called to the front office. My Dad had come to pick me up.He worked literally right next door to my high school and had been told that he could go home, he decided to get my brother and I so we could be together...since he had yet to be able to get in touch with my mom.
It was after lunch before we reached my mom. Her flight from Dallas to Atlanta had been grounded, obviously. And she hadn't been able to get her cell phone to work- everything was jammed at the airport. She had met some passengers on her plane, they were doing everything they could to rent a car with plans to drive back to Atlanta. She understood that she wouldn't be flying anywhere any time soon.
This is all I really remember from 9/11. Over the years it has affected me in many many other ways. A little over three years later I moved to D.C. to attend school. My parents number one concern was for my safety-- not because of the crime rate, rather because of my proximity to terrorist targets. GW literally owned the buildings housing the World Bank and IMF. My first year at GW I worked the commencement ceremonies- that year's graduating class was the last class of students that had been attending GW on 9/11. It was obvious how affected all of those students were by that experience.
My roommate while I lived in DC was from New York- and I may force her to create a blog just to recant for you her experience of that day.
P also has quite the story from 9/11. He was in the Air Force at the time and actually on the move. He was in Saudi Arabia and scheduled to take a commercial flight to Baltimore on 9/12. He was headed to Fl, by way of Baltimore, where he was supposed to remain stateside for at least 12 months.When he finally made it home on Sept. 30th he never unpacked his bags. He immediately volunteered to go where ever needed. Less than 3 weeks later he was sent to Bahrain. P and I did not know each other at this point. (obviously- I was in the 9th grade and he had been in the military for 3 years- you do the math).
So that's my story. What's yours?