8:25 AM; September 11, 2001:
I was 13 years old. I was in middle school at the time. I'll never forget it. It was a calm, cool, crisp morning when I went to school that day. I went to my homeroom class that morning, expecting nothing out of the ordinary, save another boring and monotonous day hitting the books. The teacher had the news on that morning, as she always usually did. Little did I know that day, my life would change forever.
At this time, the hijackers were making their move. This day's tragic place in history had been etched in stone. The wheels of fate were turning. Flight 11 had been hijacked.
8:41 AM
My class and I were in the middle of our assigned reading the teacher always gave us. The TV was off. All was quiet. The lights were out. To be quite honest, I felt an eerie feeling come over me. But then I thought it was just nervousness about some assignment I didn't complete on time. As I come to think more on it... that eerie feeling was different than the others.
At this time, Flight 175 had been hijacked. The fate of 3,000 people that day had sealed. The days of my youthful thinking of life were about to be over. My memory scarred forever.
8:46 AM
Still nothing. But that knot in my stomach had not gone away. I was a bit antsy that morning, must've been the sugar I had in my breakfast not 45 minutes earlier. I was bored as well, given that I hated reading the newspaper. Still, that surreal feeling hung over me.
But little did I know, at this time, Flight 11 had just hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
8:49 AM
I must have dozed off or something. The teacher was whittling away at her laptop and didn't notice me. The quietness sent chills up and down my spine. The principal suddenly erupted into the intercom, stirring me back to life: "Teachers, faculty and staff, please turn on your TV's at this time." He said. I thought how cool it was that the principal wanted the teachers to turn on the TV, FINALLY a respite from the boredom I thought to myself.
"There has been a tragedy this morning" he continued. "A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center." I didn't quite grasp it. Some idiot probably flew his Cessna into a building in New York. I began to dismiss it.
At this time, the first reports began to spread across the country. America was under attack.
8:58 AM
Those next eight minutes were an eternity. The reality overwhelmed my comprehension. There it was, the World Trade Center on fire. My mind was swarming with thoughts. I was no longer looking forward to art class anymore. I wasn't even looking forward to seeing my favorite teacher. I wanted to know if what I was seeing on TV was real. I was shocked and afraid. I wanted to be with my mom. "Why?" "Why did those people have to die?" I thought to myself. I began looking frantically around the room looking for an answer. There wasn't one. I felt afraid, there were people jumping out of the building! The teacher dared not mention it, to save our fragile minds.
At this time. Flight 175 began its own fateful journey, setting a course heading to New York.
9:03 AM
We were all still in homeroom. The TV was still on, and I glanced up at it. I will never forget that feeling I had and the horror I felt. I began to understand the magnitude. Suddenly, I began to become angry. The world is going to end right here I began thinking to myself. I wouldn't even get to see my grandmother again, the world would end right there and I would be in school of all places.
At the very same moment, I watched Flight 175 careen into the South Tower. At the same time, Flight 77 was heading for the Pentagon.
9:29 AM
"Today, we've had a national tragedy, he starts. Two airplanes... have crashed... into the World Trade Center... in an apparent terrorist attack on our country." To be truthful, that was the first time I had seen a living president on TV or for any reason. It was President Bush who had been pushing an education initiative at the time addressing a bunch of school children in Florida. I could see the sadness in his face. We watched as he spoke, as the footage was being played in an inlay at the corner of the TV screen.
9:38 AM
I was stunned. It was all such a blur. A flurry of emotions ran over me. But one emerged. Anger, another, disgust, and another, fear. "Cowards!" I whispered to myself. By now, I figured out that this was an act of terrorism. But, no more did I have a chance to catch my breath...new reports began coming in on the news.
At this time, Flight 77 hits the Western Side of the Pentagon.
9:58 AM
Twenty minutes later. We all began absorbing the imagery, the burning towers, the smoke rising from the Pentagon. I began trying to sort these emotions of mine out. How was I supposed to react? How was I supposed to respond? I chose to remain quiet. The fear was overwhelming me, but I chose to fight it. I never thought that just moments later, my view of this world would change. One of the buildings started falling.
At this time, the South Tower collapses.
10:28 AM
Things were a little calmer, but the aura of fear remained. The sight of so much death and destruction had been charred into the memories of everyone there at school. We continued watching coverage of the attacks on the news. I was holding out hope that the firemen could save the remaining tower and the people in it. But that wasn't to be the case. My heart sank. The last tower began to fall. In silence, we all looked on, until there was nothing but smoke and ruins.
At this time, the North Tower had collapsed.
It wasn't long after that we were ushered on to our next class. My legs were trembling. I wanted to cry out in fear, for the thoughts of the end times had gripped my mind. I'll never forget that day. When my grandmother came to pick me up at After School that afternoon, I was happy to see her again. I was also hoping whoever committed this terrible act would pay for their cowardice. We found out the next morning who had done it: Osama Bin Laden.
I spent the better part of the next decade hoping that one day the mastermind of this heinous deed would be caught. Each time news broke, I hoped and prayed. "Did they get him?! Did they get that sonofabitch?"
Wednesday, May 1st, 2011; 11:35 PM
It happened. I had the TV on, blogging and opining on politics as I usually did. Then a breaking news bulletin chimed in on Fox News. President Obama was about to address the nation. "Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al-Qaeda, and a terrorist who's [sic] responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children." Osama Bin Laden had been brought to justice and had been killed in the town of Abbottabad, Pakistan. I couldn't contain myself. Me and my grandmother celebrated that night, and for one brief moment, the world was at peace again.
I'll never forget. And neither should you. The purity of human hatred, the power of evil----the memory of the fallen. I'll never forget. Our nation did not fall that day.
And now, I invite you, those of USMB, to offer up you recollections of that fateful day.
I was 13 years old. I was in middle school at the time. I'll never forget it. It was a calm, cool, crisp morning when I went to school that day. I went to my homeroom class that morning, expecting nothing out of the ordinary, save another boring and monotonous day hitting the books. The teacher had the news on that morning, as she always usually did. Little did I know that day, my life would change forever.
At this time, the hijackers were making their move. This day's tragic place in history had been etched in stone. The wheels of fate were turning. Flight 11 had been hijacked.
8:41 AM
My class and I were in the middle of our assigned reading the teacher always gave us. The TV was off. All was quiet. The lights were out. To be quite honest, I felt an eerie feeling come over me. But then I thought it was just nervousness about some assignment I didn't complete on time. As I come to think more on it... that eerie feeling was different than the others.
At this time, Flight 175 had been hijacked. The fate of 3,000 people that day had sealed. The days of my youthful thinking of life were about to be over. My memory scarred forever.
8:46 AM
Still nothing. But that knot in my stomach had not gone away. I was a bit antsy that morning, must've been the sugar I had in my breakfast not 45 minutes earlier. I was bored as well, given that I hated reading the newspaper. Still, that surreal feeling hung over me.
But little did I know, at this time, Flight 11 had just hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
8:49 AM
I must have dozed off or something. The teacher was whittling away at her laptop and didn't notice me. The quietness sent chills up and down my spine. The principal suddenly erupted into the intercom, stirring me back to life: "Teachers, faculty and staff, please turn on your TV's at this time." He said. I thought how cool it was that the principal wanted the teachers to turn on the TV, FINALLY a respite from the boredom I thought to myself.
"There has been a tragedy this morning" he continued. "A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center." I didn't quite grasp it. Some idiot probably flew his Cessna into a building in New York. I began to dismiss it.
At this time, the first reports began to spread across the country. America was under attack.
8:58 AM
Those next eight minutes were an eternity. The reality overwhelmed my comprehension. There it was, the World Trade Center on fire. My mind was swarming with thoughts. I was no longer looking forward to art class anymore. I wasn't even looking forward to seeing my favorite teacher. I wanted to know if what I was seeing on TV was real. I was shocked and afraid. I wanted to be with my mom. "Why?" "Why did those people have to die?" I thought to myself. I began looking frantically around the room looking for an answer. There wasn't one. I felt afraid, there were people jumping out of the building! The teacher dared not mention it, to save our fragile minds.
At this time. Flight 175 began its own fateful journey, setting a course heading to New York.
9:03 AM
We were all still in homeroom. The TV was still on, and I glanced up at it. I will never forget that feeling I had and the horror I felt. I began to understand the magnitude. Suddenly, I began to become angry. The world is going to end right here I began thinking to myself. I wouldn't even get to see my grandmother again, the world would end right there and I would be in school of all places.
At the very same moment, I watched Flight 175 careen into the South Tower. At the same time, Flight 77 was heading for the Pentagon.
9:29 AM
"Today, we've had a national tragedy, he starts. Two airplanes... have crashed... into the World Trade Center... in an apparent terrorist attack on our country." To be truthful, that was the first time I had seen a living president on TV or for any reason. It was President Bush who had been pushing an education initiative at the time addressing a bunch of school children in Florida. I could see the sadness in his face. We watched as he spoke, as the footage was being played in an inlay at the corner of the TV screen.
9:38 AM
I was stunned. It was all such a blur. A flurry of emotions ran over me. But one emerged. Anger, another, disgust, and another, fear. "Cowards!" I whispered to myself. By now, I figured out that this was an act of terrorism. But, no more did I have a chance to catch my breath...new reports began coming in on the news.
At this time, Flight 77 hits the Western Side of the Pentagon.
9:58 AM
Twenty minutes later. We all began absorbing the imagery, the burning towers, the smoke rising from the Pentagon. I began trying to sort these emotions of mine out. How was I supposed to react? How was I supposed to respond? I chose to remain quiet. The fear was overwhelming me, but I chose to fight it. I never thought that just moments later, my view of this world would change. One of the buildings started falling.
At this time, the South Tower collapses.
10:28 AM
Things were a little calmer, but the aura of fear remained. The sight of so much death and destruction had been charred into the memories of everyone there at school. We continued watching coverage of the attacks on the news. I was holding out hope that the firemen could save the remaining tower and the people in it. But that wasn't to be the case. My heart sank. The last tower began to fall. In silence, we all looked on, until there was nothing but smoke and ruins.
At this time, the North Tower had collapsed.
It wasn't long after that we were ushered on to our next class. My legs were trembling. I wanted to cry out in fear, for the thoughts of the end times had gripped my mind. I'll never forget that day. When my grandmother came to pick me up at After School that afternoon, I was happy to see her again. I was also hoping whoever committed this terrible act would pay for their cowardice. We found out the next morning who had done it: Osama Bin Laden.
I spent the better part of the next decade hoping that one day the mastermind of this heinous deed would be caught. Each time news broke, I hoped and prayed. "Did they get him?! Did they get that sonofabitch?"
Wednesday, May 1st, 2011; 11:35 PM
It happened. I had the TV on, blogging and opining on politics as I usually did. Then a breaking news bulletin chimed in on Fox News. President Obama was about to address the nation. "Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al-Qaeda, and a terrorist who's [sic] responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children." Osama Bin Laden had been brought to justice and had been killed in the town of Abbottabad, Pakistan. I couldn't contain myself. Me and my grandmother celebrated that night, and for one brief moment, the world was at peace again.
I'll never forget. And neither should you. The purity of human hatred, the power of evil----the memory of the fallen. I'll never forget. Our nation did not fall that day.
And now, I invite you, those of USMB, to offer up you recollections of that fateful day.
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