Memories of 9-11
The morning of September 11th, 2001, started off weird right from the get-go.
I was due to fly out of Albuquerque, NM that day, with my now ex-wife, on a trip to Seattle, Washington. Her best friend from her days at the University of Puget Sound was getting married, and my ex-wife was supposed to be the Matron of Honor.
The weirdness began when the alarm clock went off. We always had it set for an alarm, but somehow the alarm clock setting was set to radio instead. I woke up with a jolt to the sound of a news report. It took a moment for my brain to process what was happening, until I realized what I was hearing: a report that a “small plane” had hit one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City.
I kicked off the blankets and slapped the clock to silence it, going into the living room to turn on the television. The first thing I saw was an image of the iconic Twin Towers, one of which was billowing thick smoke, and my brain had a moment to think that was one Hell of a hole that had been made if it was a “small plane” that had struck… and I heard the news reporter suddenly comment that another plane was moving in, perhaps to render assistance?
In the next instant I was watching, open-mouthed, as what looked like a jet airliner flew into the other tower and a massive fireball erupted.
I bellowed for my ex-wife to get her ass out of bed and into the living room.
We found ourselves sitting on the couch, staring with disbelief at what was unfolding right in front of us. Then the reports reached us of the impact on the Pentagon.
That was about the time my friend Bryan, who was supposed to drive us to the airport, arrived at the apartment. He was a little nonplussed that we were clearly not prepared to leave…and then pale and shocked as I brought him up to speed. He agreed when I said that I was pretty sure no more flights were going up that day, and he sat down on the armchair and joined us in watching the news reports.
We all jumped a little when the phone rang. I answered it, and it was another buddy, Rick, calling. He was in the middle of entering into service with the U.S. Border Patrol, reporting to the El Paso Sector headquarters to get his entry on duty papers, take his oath and travel to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC), except he found himself - along with the other new agents reporting for duty - sitting in a windowless room and seeing BorTac agents in full kit - body armor, and M4 Carbines - moving fast past the door. The whole sector had gone to full alert the moment the news broke, geared up and ready to respond to whatever came next, even though nobody had the full picture of what that was. Rick figured he knew someone who might have more information, so he grabbed the phone in the room and called me, breathless, with everyone crowding around to hear what I might say.
For the next few minutes, I briefed my friend on everything we had seen, as he passed it on to the people in the room with him. I just shook my head to myself, struck by the absurdity of it: I was sitting in my apartment in Santa Fe, New Mexico, briefing the Border Patrol station in El Paso, Texas, on what was happening in New York City.
The next hour or so was a blur, with flashes of memories of horror. At one point, Bryan leaned forward, squinting his eyes as he said: “What’s that stuff falling from the buildings?”
I leaned forward as well…and felt my stomach twist. Some of what was plummeting towards the ground wasn’t readily identifiable – the images were shot from too far away, and I assumed it was just debris at first – until one of the pieces of “debris” turned in the air in a way that sent ice water down my back. “Dude…” I managed to say, “I think it’s people.”
Shortly after that, as the camera angles changed rapidly, a panoramic view of New York suddenly showed a huge cloud of smoke rising around the World Trade Center, blocking the view of one of the towers. Except after a couple of minutes it became horrifyingly clear that the view wasn’t blocked.
The Tower just wasn’t there anymore.
Seeing that, along with the collapse of the other Tower a half hour later, was so surreal I can’t even put into words what was going through my head. Shock. Horror. Growing outrage. My country was under attack, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I picked up the phone at one point and called the Marine Corps recruiter in town, asking if there was any chance that current standards might be waived to help with recruiting, because I knew I wanted to be part of what came next and I figured a lot of other people would want the same. The recruiter laughed sadly, and after I told him I was thirty-two years he said: “You’re about the tenth guy I’ve talked to since all this started, ready to pack up your lives to go serve…and I can’t use any of you. You want to know how many people of the age I could actually fucking use have called me? Not a single one.”
My ex-wife called her friend in Washington, asking her if her wedding was still happening. When she said it was, we told her we were going to drive to Seattle and see if we could make it in time for the rehearsal dinner. Bryan called off from his job and volunteered to go with us; he figured we could rotate shifts driving, stopping only for gas and food. So, we threw our gear into our Chevy Tahoe and set off for Seattle.
It was beyond bizarre to be on the road. Most of the towns we drove through on the way seemed deserted. No cars. No people. When we were at a gas station filling up, I scanned the horizon and realized there was zero evidence in the sky of human civilization. No contrails. No planes. Things we see so often we almost don’t process their presence…until they’re not there any more.
We made it to the rehearsal dinner in Seattle in less than 24 hours, and the wedding went ahead as planned…but the reception was somewhat subdued as the people there tried to celebrate while their thoughts were on what was happening on the other side of the country.
We headed back to Santa Fe afterwards, still gobsmacked by the post-apocalyptic feel of the world as we drove through it.
I remember feeling pride for a time, as American flags flew in uncountable numbers. Neighbors turned away from animus in favor of checking on each other. Comforting each other. Commiserating with each other. Politics suddenly just didn’t matter anymore; it was more important to unite and lift each other up to face what was on the horizon.
In so many ways the memories of that time seem like they could have come from just yesterday…but it startles me to realize a quarter century has passed.
Our world has changed. Life has changed. People who weren’t even born on that horrible day are adults now.
My marriage ended, over a decade after 9/11. I eventually got remarried, to a wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman who is the light of my life. Rick and Bryan are still close, dear friends; my brothers in every way but blood.
Sadly, for all the calls of “Never forget” that rang in the streets, I saw the unity that came after 9/11 come apart in this country. Different factions of ideology now turn on each other. Hate separates us. Our country is now more divided than ever.
We were asleep. 9/11 woke us up. Too many chose to hit the snooze button, roll over, and go back to sleep. The lessons we might have learned have been squandered.
I can only hope we might somehow find our way again.
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