I didn't believe it at first.
She called after 8 to tell me small planes had hit the World Trade Towers in NYC. It didn't seem like that big of deal at that point. small planes weren't that big of deal. Besides, I had another 15 minutes before my alarm went off.
My mind set changed completely when I got out of the shower. My stereo was on like it was every morning; but instead of the normal Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters coming from the speakers - it was news.
Did they seriously just say that the Pentagon had been hit? What was going on? I stood there dripping in my robe and turned on the TV. I couldn't believe the images being shown.
This couldn't be happening.
I still headed to campus because it seemed like the only logical thing to do. It was all we talked about in criminology, but he did let us out early because we needed to process.
I was in a fog. This was unreal; I was still mourning my mom. I couldn't handle this yet. But I needed to hear normal voices. I called Sarah. It helped a little, but she was frantic. We were all frantic. I started trying to call my dad - no answer.
Classes were being canceled all over the place - but not mine. This was the perfect time to go over how to cover this and how to deal with this horrific attack. So, instead of getting to go home, I was stuck in the basement of wAlter williams digging through plane information based on tail wings.
I headed home, having to weave the car through the lines of cars that poured out of the gas stations.
Still couldn't get in touch with Dad. Constant busy signal.
Odd thoughts started going through my head. Just a week ago, we were flying back from Orange County. If this had happened just one week earlier, I would have been stuck there.
Finally got home. The answering machine was blinking. Had to be Dad.
Nope. Cicely.
"I just want you to know I love you because it doesn't get said enough. So, I love you."
So - my best friend calls, I have tons of emails from other people - but no word from my dad.
I try again.
Busy.
He's talking to HER. Once again; she's stolen him.
I finally get through. He's mad because I interrupted the call.
I say fine and sorry that his only daughter wanted to talk to him on the day that the world appears to be going to Hell. I say good by, hang up, and realize that we truly have no relationship now all thanks to her.
*******
This was the day I realized the importance of my future career. It was up to us to start filtering/sifting through all of this nonsense to make sense of it. In all honesty, we had no time to process it. We may have only been student journalists, but that was no excuse. WE had a paper and newscasts to get out.
And so we did.
We sifted throughs tories. Got a crash course in various Middle Eastern subjects. Afghan vs. Afghani. Explaining why there were various spellings of Bin Laden's name and al-Qaeda. Learning how to fit Afghanistan in a headline with ease.
And the pictures.
They were heart wrenching. Horrific. Telling.
Some of those photos never say the light of day in any publication because they were just too much. It's not like we didn't see enough anyway.
It was the start of the constant ticker on the news feeds. And every channel was a news feed. No ESPN. No MTV. No CW. No FX. NOthing but news. And that ticker. Constantly updating us - even though there were no real updates. Little did we know that ticker was never going away.
Slowly, stories came together. But after a while, they all blended in to one. By the weekend, it was time for something else - but there was nothing else. No football game to go to. No sports. Just news.
I started watching Telemundo. Despite not knowing much Spanish beyond Donde es el Bano? I could understand what the anchors and reports were saying because they were saying the EXACT same thing everyone else was saying on EVERY other channel. It just wasn't in English this time.
There was no escape. People who weren't even there were going into a depressive state because of all the coverage. Sometimes I wonder if it was too much simply because there was no escape from it because there was no other programming.
Looking back, I don't even think we understood it then. Strike that - I know we didn't understand it. It was too much. too odd. Too foreign. It was common to hear phrases like "This doesn't happen to us." Because it didn't We had been lucky - but that luck also bit us in the butt because we felt safe. As much as feeling scared sucks, it is now a lot less likely for something of this magnitude to happen to us again.
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