Logging in to Facebook this morning and seeing all the messages about that terrible day twelve years ago and remembering the heroes and to "never forget" really got to me this morning. Of course I'll never forget. It's probably the most unforgettable historical moment of my life, ranking ahead of the Challenger exploding, the "Spring Break Quake" in 1993, the Oklahoma City Bombing, Obama being elected, Princess Diana's death, and the announcement of Bin Laden's death.
I was actually in Las Vegas on September 11th, 2001. I was on my way back to Oregon after spending the summer working in Colorado with my cousin Wendy. We had stopped in Vegas to meet up with a couple from the Czech Republic we had worked with who were touring America before returning to Europe. I woke up early, I think around 6:30, and called my mom to get my sister's phone number. We were driving to San Diego that afternoon to visit her (she was in college at USD at the time). All circuits were busy. Strange, I thought, that phone lines were overloaded that early in the morning. I tried again with the same result. At this point, I turned on the TV, but kept the sound down low so as not to wake up anyone else. I couldn't hear what was going on, but saw smoke coming out of one of the towers. At this point I thought it was just a fire. Then they went split screen with a shot of the Pentagon on fire. Now I was a little concerned. At this point I stopped worrying about other people sleeping and turned up the volume. It was then that I learned what was really happening. I tried calling my mom again, and this time got through. She was pretty concerned, probably because her husband was in New Orleans, I was in Las Vegas, Grant was in Northern California, and Erin was in San Diego. When something like that happens and your family is scattered all over the country, it's gotta be tough. She actually told me not to go to San Diego, to just drive straight to Weed, CA to see Grant because "nobody's going to attack Weed."
Once everyone was awake, we sat there in silence watching the news for a while before finally making our way to a Denny's in a casino for breakfast. It was so bizarre to see Las Vegas so quiet. I remember the numbness of the the place - nobody was gambling, nobody was yelling, nobody was smiling. People were eating and talking quietly. At this point, Jiri, the guy from the Czech Republic that was with us, said "I'll bet Bin Laden was behind this" between bites of his hash browns. I, of course, had never heard of Bin Laden at this point. Later, I would look back and wonder if this was because of my own ignorance, or because the American government and/or media felt it wasn't important enough to convey information about him. Probably a little of both, I suppose.
We had ideas about going to see the Hoover Dam, but it was shut down like every other national landmark in the country. So we headed for San Diego. As we drove along the coastline, you could see the battleships out in the Pacific protecting our shores. The fear that "this isn't over yet" was undeniable, even the next day. When our time was up in San Diego and we started making the trek north up I-5, I remember driving behind a delivery truck or moving van of some sort. Written in the dirt on the back was an anti-Muslim message, predictably with some spelling errors. I wish I could remember what it said, but the point was clear - America in general was already racially profiling everyone of Middle Eastern descent.
No, I'll never forget that day. I remember it every time I say goodbye to my wife and kids when they travel to Wisconsin without me and I have to say goodbye to them at a security checkpoint instead of waving goodbye as the walk down the jetway at the gate. I remember it every time I visit a major city and see a skyscraper. In that sense, maybe Bin Laden accomplished what he set out to do.
Then again, a part of me remembers that day every time I hear someone singing "God Bless America." I remember it every time a fire truck drives by in a parade and everyone gives the firefighters a standing ovation. I remember it every time I see an Arizona State football game, where the players run out of a tunnel behind a picture of Pat Tillman, who gave up a professional football career to fight for freedom thousands of miles from the nearest NFL stadium, and ultimately lost his life in that fight.
In that sense, I think that terror will never really win.
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