Single in Stilettos

Where were you?

I was a sophomore in college, living with 5 other girls in a crappy, hole-in-the-wall on campus apartment. I had an early class (early being 9), so I was standing in the hall right outside the bathroom, waiting for one of my roommates to get out of the shower.

"I think the World Trade Center has been bombed," my roommate B called out to me.

I ran to the living room (a mear 4 steps), and turned on the television. I saw people streaming out of the World Trade Center, smoke billowing, as people ran out of the building covered with ash. But it all looked familiar.

"Oh, they're just playing old footage from when the World Trade Center was bombed a few years ago." I explained.

But I continued to watch. It all seemed familiar. But then I listened.

It wasn't a bomb. It was a plane. My 5 roommates and I stood transfixed in front of the television.

I can't remember if I ever got a shower. But I know I was standing in my living room when the second plane hit. I remember screaming. It was like watching a horror movie. This wasn't something that happens in real life.

I was numb, this couldn't be happening.

I get to my class late. My professor doesn't have a clue what's going on. And he doesn't seem to care. We tell him everything and he says we should just continue like everything is normal. Many of my classmates were from New York, they were in more shock than the rest of us. I don't remember a thing that was taught during that class, except he let us out early and we all turned on the television in the class. That's when we heard about the Pentagon.

My heart started racing. My best friend's father worked in the Pentagon. He was like a father to me. I was panicked. I left class, making my way to my apartment. My cell phone rang.

"Pack up your car now and come home!"

It was my mother.

"They're going to cancel school for the rest of the year, you just need to come home! I told you not to go to school so close to D.C. It's the end of the world as we know it!"

"Mom, they aren't cancelling school for the rest of the year, they aren't even cancelling class for the rest of the day." I tried to explain.

That's when my phone went out. Lines were down. Everywhere. I stood in the circle in front of the George Mason statue, trying to call my friend S, to see if his dad was okay. I couldn't get through.

That's when I heard someone call my name.

It was S. He couldn't get through to either of his parents. I tried on my cell phone. Nothing.

We walked back to my apartment where we could use a landline. He called his mom, but the line was busy. We sat in my living room, just watching update after update. We sat there for what felt like hours. Numb.

He finally got through to his mother. His dad was safe and on his way home. Little did we know that trip would take close to 8 hours. I was shaking. Still numb.

My next class was cancelled. It wasn't until 3p.m. that all classes at George Mason were cancelled for the rest of the day.

How does that make sense? Virginia Tech cancelled all classes at 10a.m.; UVA cancelled all classes around the same time. Even BYU cancelled classes before we did! And we were less than 10 miles from the Pentagon.

Everyone sat in front of their TVs, watching but still not quite comprehending it all. My mom was wrong. Classes weren't cancelled for the rest of the year. They weren't even cancelled for the next day. We just kept going.

I was angry. I still am angry. That hasn't gone away. I remember watching the local news that night when they urged at Middle-Eastern people to stay out of public areas. This was a matter of their personal safety. I should clarify. I'm not a racist. But I was angry. I watched on TV as people in the Middle-East cheered at our tragedy. They cheered.

So, you can imagine my shock when I went to class the next day and saw the entire Middle-Eastern population of my school standing in the square just outside the Johnson Center. They were everywhere. Handing out flyers. Sitting in my classes. I could stand to look at them. For those moments, I was a racist. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to hear them say they weren't involved. I didn't want to watch them put on a rally for peace. I was angry and I just wanted them to disappear. This is when I regretted going to the most diverse university in the country.

My feelings made what happened during World War II make sense. The government send all Asians to camps for their own safety. Not just Japanese, but all Asians. September 11th, I wanted to do the same with all those of Middle-Eastern discent. I'm not proud of it. But I was angry.

I was angry when I went to my Lit class and watched a girl tell the professor she was dropping out of school since both of her parents had been killed in the Twin Towers. I was angry as I drove past the Pentagon the night of September 12th.

I was angry. I wasn't sad. I was angry. I remember when Toby Keith's song came out about September 11th. I.love.that.song.

I wanted to put a boot up Iraq's ass. I wanted to beat the shit out of them.

My anger is still around, although not as prevelant. I'm shocked to see movie's coming out about September 11th. I'll never, ever be able to sit though them. Its all still too raw for me. Too real.

Last weekend I was in New York, I visited the site of the World Trade Center. Then last night I went to the Pentagon. It was beautiful yet depressing at the same time.

They say everyone remembers where they were when Kennedy got shot. I don't know, I'm not old enough to know. But this is our generations equivalent. So, in honor of September 11th, just take a moment to think where you were, what you were doing when the world stopped turning. The moment our nation came together, when we learned what true patriotism was.

posted by Me @ 9:35 AM