About 9/11/2001
Friday, 12 September 2003 03:21![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apollaA little late, thanks to my brother hogging the computer, but here nonetheless...
Today, I don't mind being sheep-like and following the crowd. There are a million 'where were you?' tales, and this is mine:
I flew to Los Angeles on Monday 10th September 2001. I was full of hope (sort of) for the coming year and still pretty chuffed with myself that of 24 people who got interviewed, I was one of the 12 (i think) people who got a place at the University of California. I was still feeling a little disappointed that I wasn't going to UCLA, but knew that my newfound (sort of) friend Natasha would also be there.
I was on Virgin flight 07 from London Heathrow to LAX. My mama, for reasons of cost, was on an American Airlines flight that had left a hour before mine, so I felt terribly grown up flying all on my own. When I got to LAX my mum wasn't there to meet me, so I wandered around for a minute before she came bouncing out of a cab from another terminal, her sweatshirt on in the heat because a nosebleed had covered her t-shirt in blood. To cut the story short, we got lost on our way to the hostel we were staying at, ended up in Glendale at one point and finally got there some time later. Fell asleep.
I woke up at 7am-ish and rejected offers of breakfast from my mum (breakfast is for wimps and I was comfy in bed). She went off to get some breakfast and I curled back up in bed. She arrived back two minutes later.
"Put the television on, Clare. America is at war," she said before heading back to the restaurant bit. I put it on and watched with tired eyes as the World Trade Center tumbled before my eyes. To put it differently, I watched as the world fell down around our ears. I suddenly realised how very far away from home i was. My mum came back a little while later to tell me that she hadn't been able to get through on the phone to my dad. Most of the international phone lines to GB ran from the WTC, apparently. I kept on watching the telly.
We went out later,although why I don't know- most of LA was shut down, terrified that the Western financial centre might be next. We drove past Saks- that was closed, we drove past the federal buildings and they were blocked off. We went to Melrose, where some of the vintage shops I wanted to visit were. Most of them were shut- people were at home watching TV. We found an open internet cafe on Melrose and I leapt on a computer to email home- that was one way I could get through- the wonders of technology. I emailed my dad and all my friends, I think actually everyone in my address book to say that I was in LA and relatively safe.
We sat eating lunch in Subway and it all replayed in my head like Die Hard or Independence Day. It was a movie, surely? The footage of screaming people running through New York's streets from danger- that's the stuff a hundred movies are made of. My imagination refused to let go, refused to shut down even for a second.
I later found out that my dad, who was meant to be decorating the back room, stopped everything to watch tv, panic and field calls from people who didn't know if I'd been on a plane to LA at the time- people who knew I was going to LA that week but didn't know anything more specific. Even his sister called, and they hardly speak. Our back room, by the way, remained two slightly different colours until very recently- our own small legacy of 11th September.
Anyway... it felt very strange to be in America that day. We got a flat tyre where we parked just off Melrose. My mum started wondering what the hell to do (here she'd just call the AA and get them to sort it out) but there she didn't know. A young man watering his garden asked if she needed a hand. She asked to borrow the phone but couldn't get through to Dollar. He insisted on calling AAA on his membership to get someone out. Apparently someone had done such a good turn for him and this was his way of repaying that debt. Besides, it was 11th September 2001 and I think everyone was desperate to find a way to help someone- anyone. We sat in his front room and watched the TV, waiting for the AAA guy. He was a very sweet, generous young man and I wish I knew his name.
When we got to the tyre place to get a replacement, we watched the TV. For days, all we seemed to do was watch the TV. That night, I sat up, unable to sleep (as usual) watching Fox 11's tickertape tell me that the Empire State Building had been threatened. I remembered my 18th birthday, standing at the top of it calling home only to find out that my brother had broken his arm skateboarding. Then the tickertape reported threats in London... right near my grandfather in the EC1/2 area called the City of London, the financial district and dear God, I wanted to be at home. Actually, I wanted to find whoever was behind this utter chaos and rip their heads off.
We went down to Irvine soon after. We finally got through on the phone on Thursday and I've never heard my dad sound so relieved. I was reunited with Natasha the day I moved in and she told me how she'd gone to the UCI memorial service at the flagpoles and how awfully strange it had seemed. We watched America try to cope from close range. We sat as our classes discussed it (one of our first classes there was American Journalism & Politics) and we became their outsider point of views. Of course, the 'special relationship' between Britain and America meant that we were hardly outsiders. Except of course, I think Tony Blair is an insincere git and they all loved him. Today is not for politics however, so I'll keep my opinion on Tony & George to myself.
I wish though, that they hadn't reappropriated Imagine and put bits of newscasts on it. I honestly can't imagine how John would feel to have George Bush on his record.... I'm stopping. This isn't the time.
I didn't know anyone in those buildings, nor did I know anyone on the planes. But I do remember being in the mall part of the WTC on a quiet Sunday morning with my mama, listening to her suggest that instead of paying to go onto the observation deck, we go to the bar and look from there for the price of a drink. I rejected her offer. In my youthful arrogance I believed I'd have the chance to go back. In fact, I shall tell you a secret, a rather selfish secret perhaps, but mine nonetheless: I used to dream that if anyone would ever propose to me, they would do it in New York and they would do it at the top of the World Trade Center. I always thought that they were beautiful, although not everyone agreed from an architectural POV. I always thought that it would be so fantastic to be proposed to by my One True Love while looking down on a city I truly, truly love. I'm not the only one to have such a dream, I know. The day the towers crumbled, I lost that dream and I remember standing outside Strawberry thinking that I would go back, that I would stand on top of the towers one day. As it turned out, I went in the underground mall and the Borders bookshop and that was it. I always thought I'd get to go back.
Since then I've had a great many thoughts, feelings and opinions about the consequences. The truth of the matter is, beyond all politics , thousands of people died. Thousands of them.
They called the First World War the war to end all wars. They said the same about the Second one twenty years later. When will we ever, ever learn?
I always thought I'd get to go back.
How innocent is youth.
Today, I don't mind being sheep-like and following the crowd. There are a million 'where were you?' tales, and this is mine:
I flew to Los Angeles on Monday 10th September 2001. I was full of hope (sort of) for the coming year and still pretty chuffed with myself that of 24 people who got interviewed, I was one of the 12 (i think) people who got a place at the University of California. I was still feeling a little disappointed that I wasn't going to UCLA, but knew that my newfound (sort of) friend Natasha would also be there.
I was on Virgin flight 07 from London Heathrow to LAX. My mama, for reasons of cost, was on an American Airlines flight that had left a hour before mine, so I felt terribly grown up flying all on my own. When I got to LAX my mum wasn't there to meet me, so I wandered around for a minute before she came bouncing out of a cab from another terminal, her sweatshirt on in the heat because a nosebleed had covered her t-shirt in blood. To cut the story short, we got lost on our way to the hostel we were staying at, ended up in Glendale at one point and finally got there some time later. Fell asleep.
I woke up at 7am-ish and rejected offers of breakfast from my mum (breakfast is for wimps and I was comfy in bed). She went off to get some breakfast and I curled back up in bed. She arrived back two minutes later.
"Put the television on, Clare. America is at war," she said before heading back to the restaurant bit. I put it on and watched with tired eyes as the World Trade Center tumbled before my eyes. To put it differently, I watched as the world fell down around our ears. I suddenly realised how very far away from home i was. My mum came back a little while later to tell me that she hadn't been able to get through on the phone to my dad. Most of the international phone lines to GB ran from the WTC, apparently. I kept on watching the telly.
We went out later,although why I don't know- most of LA was shut down, terrified that the Western financial centre might be next. We drove past Saks- that was closed, we drove past the federal buildings and they were blocked off. We went to Melrose, where some of the vintage shops I wanted to visit were. Most of them were shut- people were at home watching TV. We found an open internet cafe on Melrose and I leapt on a computer to email home- that was one way I could get through- the wonders of technology. I emailed my dad and all my friends, I think actually everyone in my address book to say that I was in LA and relatively safe.
We sat eating lunch in Subway and it all replayed in my head like Die Hard or Independence Day. It was a movie, surely? The footage of screaming people running through New York's streets from danger- that's the stuff a hundred movies are made of. My imagination refused to let go, refused to shut down even for a second.
I later found out that my dad, who was meant to be decorating the back room, stopped everything to watch tv, panic and field calls from people who didn't know if I'd been on a plane to LA at the time- people who knew I was going to LA that week but didn't know anything more specific. Even his sister called, and they hardly speak. Our back room, by the way, remained two slightly different colours until very recently- our own small legacy of 11th September.
Anyway... it felt very strange to be in America that day. We got a flat tyre where we parked just off Melrose. My mum started wondering what the hell to do (here she'd just call the AA and get them to sort it out) but there she didn't know. A young man watering his garden asked if she needed a hand. She asked to borrow the phone but couldn't get through to Dollar. He insisted on calling AAA on his membership to get someone out. Apparently someone had done such a good turn for him and this was his way of repaying that debt. Besides, it was 11th September 2001 and I think everyone was desperate to find a way to help someone- anyone. We sat in his front room and watched the TV, waiting for the AAA guy. He was a very sweet, generous young man and I wish I knew his name.
When we got to the tyre place to get a replacement, we watched the TV. For days, all we seemed to do was watch the TV. That night, I sat up, unable to sleep (as usual) watching Fox 11's tickertape tell me that the Empire State Building had been threatened. I remembered my 18th birthday, standing at the top of it calling home only to find out that my brother had broken his arm skateboarding. Then the tickertape reported threats in London... right near my grandfather in the EC1/2 area called the City of London, the financial district and dear God, I wanted to be at home. Actually, I wanted to find whoever was behind this utter chaos and rip their heads off.
We went down to Irvine soon after. We finally got through on the phone on Thursday and I've never heard my dad sound so relieved. I was reunited with Natasha the day I moved in and she told me how she'd gone to the UCI memorial service at the flagpoles and how awfully strange it had seemed. We watched America try to cope from close range. We sat as our classes discussed it (one of our first classes there was American Journalism & Politics) and we became their outsider point of views. Of course, the 'special relationship' between Britain and America meant that we were hardly outsiders. Except of course, I think Tony Blair is an insincere git and they all loved him. Today is not for politics however, so I'll keep my opinion on Tony & George to myself.
I wish though, that they hadn't reappropriated Imagine and put bits of newscasts on it. I honestly can't imagine how John would feel to have George Bush on his record.... I'm stopping. This isn't the time.
I didn't know anyone in those buildings, nor did I know anyone on the planes. But I do remember being in the mall part of the WTC on a quiet Sunday morning with my mama, listening to her suggest that instead of paying to go onto the observation deck, we go to the bar and look from there for the price of a drink. I rejected her offer. In my youthful arrogance I believed I'd have the chance to go back. In fact, I shall tell you a secret, a rather selfish secret perhaps, but mine nonetheless: I used to dream that if anyone would ever propose to me, they would do it in New York and they would do it at the top of the World Trade Center. I always thought that they were beautiful, although not everyone agreed from an architectural POV. I always thought that it would be so fantastic to be proposed to by my One True Love while looking down on a city I truly, truly love. I'm not the only one to have such a dream, I know. The day the towers crumbled, I lost that dream and I remember standing outside Strawberry thinking that I would go back, that I would stand on top of the towers one day. As it turned out, I went in the underground mall and the Borders bookshop and that was it. I always thought I'd get to go back.
Since then I've had a great many thoughts, feelings and opinions about the consequences. The truth of the matter is, beyond all politics , thousands of people died. Thousands of them.
They called the First World War the war to end all wars. They said the same about the Second one twenty years later. When will we ever, ever learn?
I always thought I'd get to go back.
How innocent is youth.
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Date: 2003-09-12 07:50 (UTC)