September 11, 2001: Seven Years Later, A Blog Remembers

Happy 9/11 Day people. I’ve heard people refer to it as Patriot’s Day as well, but I much prefer 9/11 Day. What did you get for your family members? I bought them two loaves of bread, and glued them to a base on their sides, and stuck a cell phone antenna in one of them. I hope they like it.

Anyway, I’ve read a little bit this morning and watched the news a bit, and the cool thing to do seems to be to tell other people what you remember about Sept. 11, 2001. I don’t know why anyone else would care, but hey, I’ve been sort of paying attention to it so maybe you will too.

So I thought I’d share with you fine people my memories of the day. Some quick background to set the mood, if you will. I was 13, in eighth grade and didn’t really pay attention to nor care much about the world around me. Only two of things still hold true, but I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which.

Also, I had my first, what I guess you would call, girlfriend. Yeah, things were going pretty good, as I was just starting my last year of middle school, and finally had lunch in the cafeteria with the black-and-white floor and round tables. Round tables!

So anyway, I wake up and get ready for school and go to the bus stop. Once on the bus, there wasn’t too many people speaking, but it was morning and there usually weren’t. This allowed me to do one of my favorite activities: listening to Z100’s Z-Morning Zoo. They were so wacky!

All I heard from them that morning, that I remember, was them announcing that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. Alright, that sucks, someone must’ve fucked something up royally, I thought, and went back to my day.

I pretty much forgot about it until I went to Japanese class. I walked in and only one other kid was in there. He was an odd looking fellow whose name I don’t remember. But as soon as I walked in he said, in an almost giddy voice, “Hey guess what? The Twin Towers are gone. They fell down!” No way. Nu uh. Those things wouldn’t just fall. But he said they did, and that a second plane hit them.

Huh, seems odd. I guess I didn’t really understand what terrorism was then. Or I didn’t care. Either way. At lunch my friends and I probably made some jokes about the situation, if only because I remember one of my friends saying, “That’s just like us. America is in trouble and we’re sitting here making jokes.” We most likely then called him gay, which wasn’t anything that wouldn’t have happened during lunch anyway.

I’m pretty sure I saw a few people crying at lunch, but I guess I don’t know what they were crying about. Possibly that awful school lunch (POW!). No, I guess they had family members that worked in Manhattan and were worried for their safety. I remember sitting at my table and then someone coming up to me and tapping me on the shoulder. It was my “girlfriend’s” friend. She told me my better half (?) was upset and I needed to go over to her.

I did, about as unenthusiastically as one could, because you see, I was a horrible boyfriend. Well, no. Yeah I was. I can’t really lie about that. I was terrible, but only because I hate when there’s attention on me and when you’re with your “girlfriend” people kind of stare at you. Or they did in eighth grade. It sucked.

So I went over and assessed the situation. She was crying. I really hoped nobody in her family was hurt, I guess partially for her feelings and their safety and all that, but more because I might be on the least compassionate people in the world. I’m horribly suited to cheer someone up after a death of a family member, and to do so in a cafeteria full of my peers. See, I am a horrible boyfriend.

Turns out she didn’t have any family members that were in the city (thankfully), but then why was she crying. Wait for it, it’s good.

She had tickets to an O-Town concert that night in Manhattan and she just heard it was canceled because of the attacks. So she was crying. And because we were “dating,” I apparently had to give a shit. So I went over, awkwardly raised my right hand and plopped on down her shoulder, growing more nervous and sweaty by the second at the thought of people watching us, and tried to tell her it would be okay. I mean, they would reschedule. It’s not like O-Town’s schedule could even be that full right?

It didn’t work very well. she was still crying. That same friend, who was watching from no more than two feet behind me, whispered I should probably hug her. Oh but I probably shouldn’t. I mean we’re in school and all. “No just do it.” Fine.

I took a step towards her, another half step and we were now extremely close. I could feel the eyes of my peers on me. If they actually were is something I have no idea about, unfortunately. Put my arms limply around her, and pulled her in lightly. And we were hugging, barely.

If anything, that hug should have probably made her cry more. I don’t really remember what happened after that. She stopped crying eventually, but I doubt it was my hug that did it. I went back to my table, and none of my friends mentioned it. I’m not sure they realized I was gone. Or they were and were shocked at just how cold I can be.

I went home and watched the news quite a bit. I don’t even remember if I was watching the news that night. I was watching TV, and every fucking channel was just replaying clips of the planes hitting and then of the Towers falling.

At some point in the next week or so I got a note from her saying she had something to tell me, which wasn’t exactly surprising. We talk a walk at lunch and she said something about wanting to remain friends but that’s it and I agreed (or more likely just nodded and didn’t say anything). And that was it.

I hate to blame terrorism for breaking up for my relationship, if you can call it that, but I think I have to. Who knows what would’ve happened if that O-Town concert was never cancelled. Chances are she would’ve taken another few months at most to realize she could do better. I’m pretty sure we didn’t remain friends, as I don’t remember speaking to her after that day. I saw her plenty though, as she went to the same high school as I did.

She moved on, and dated some older guy who could grow more facial hair than me. I won’t say better though, because mine is awesome, while his was just a lot and messy looking. I used to see them in his car while I walked home smoking cigarettes.

Dare I attempt to say each time I saw her with him it I felt as if a plane was crashing into the Tower of my heart? I won’t, but I could. But I’d also be lying. I will say that 9/11 certainly opened my eyes, and changed me for the worse though.

Because of the attacks on September 11 I, slowly but surely, grow a hatred for many of my fellow humans. Just to list, I now hate Muslims, political activists, Afghanis, conspiracy theorists, Iraqis, the government, fuck it all brown people, dumb girls who don’t see my lack my lack of enthusiasm as a throwback to days of mysterious and just all-around cool guys (like James Dean), pastors, people who do interviews with news anchors, news anchors and most of all, O-Town.