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I was an asshole on 9/11
Sep. 11th, 2006 12:35 pmSophie's 14th birthday is today. (I just typed "Spohie," ha ha ha.) What a date to have your birthday on. I can't really afford to give her anything, but I should, because I gave Mark a gift on his birthday. So I guess I'll dip into my bill-money stash and give her a card with ten pounds in it.
I was thinking about where I was on 9/11. I was an asshole. Here's why.
I woke up early that morning. It was my sophomore year of college, and my first year at C of C. I was in a bad mood because I hadn't had enough sleep; I'd been up studying for a test. I even remember the class: human sexuality. My classroom was all the way on the other side of downtown Charleston, about a 10-15 minute walk from my dorm. It was hot and humid, and I was in NO MOOD to be out of bed. I had almost overslept, so I threw on some scruffy clothes and hauled ass to class. Halfway there, it started raining, and of course I didn't have an umbrella. So by the time I arrived at the building, I was sweaty like a mofo, dishevelled, soaked, and just pissed off in general.
There was a sign on the door saying that class had been cancelled. (At this point both towers had already been hit, and I believe they had already collapsed too, but I knew nothing of this.) There were a few other people who arrived when I did. Well, I was pissed off. I'd studied all night, then hurried there in the heat and rain for a cancelled class? I threw a mini-tantrum. I stomped around going, "Gaaaaaah, fuck, what the fuck, I walked all the way here and THEY CANCELLED THE FUCKING CLASS???!!!" The other people were looking at me like I was crazy, probably not because I was angry, but because they already knew about the attack and figured I must have, too, and wondered why I was acting like our cancelled test was so important.
So I stomped home in a funk. As I walked through the dorm lobby, I heard from a radio the desk assistant was listening to about an "attack on America..." but I was still so pissed that the words didn't even sink in. I went to the computer lab to check my e-mail, and of course the homepage had a blaring headline about an ATTACK ON AMERICA. But I was still so annoyed with my stupid little problems that even THAT didn't phase me. I saw the words, but it still didn't register in my stupid head that something awful had happened.
When I returned to my room, Aadra (my roommate) was there, and looked upset, and asked if I knew what was going on. I was like, "Can you believe they cancelled my fucking test???" And she's like, "Come here." We went into Hilary's room, where of course there was footage of the towers being hit and collapsing. So then, FINALLY, my stupid, self-centered brain clicked and realized that there was something far, far worse going on than me missing my test. I immediately felt like the biggest ass in the world.
So that's my 9/11 "where were you when" story.
I was thinking about where I was on 9/11. I was an asshole. Here's why.
I woke up early that morning. It was my sophomore year of college, and my first year at C of C. I was in a bad mood because I hadn't had enough sleep; I'd been up studying for a test. I even remember the class: human sexuality. My classroom was all the way on the other side of downtown Charleston, about a 10-15 minute walk from my dorm. It was hot and humid, and I was in NO MOOD to be out of bed. I had almost overslept, so I threw on some scruffy clothes and hauled ass to class. Halfway there, it started raining, and of course I didn't have an umbrella. So by the time I arrived at the building, I was sweaty like a mofo, dishevelled, soaked, and just pissed off in general.
There was a sign on the door saying that class had been cancelled. (At this point both towers had already been hit, and I believe they had already collapsed too, but I knew nothing of this.) There were a few other people who arrived when I did. Well, I was pissed off. I'd studied all night, then hurried there in the heat and rain for a cancelled class? I threw a mini-tantrum. I stomped around going, "Gaaaaaah, fuck, what the fuck, I walked all the way here and THEY CANCELLED THE FUCKING CLASS???!!!" The other people were looking at me like I was crazy, probably not because I was angry, but because they already knew about the attack and figured I must have, too, and wondered why I was acting like our cancelled test was so important.
So I stomped home in a funk. As I walked through the dorm lobby, I heard from a radio the desk assistant was listening to about an "attack on America..." but I was still so pissed that the words didn't even sink in. I went to the computer lab to check my e-mail, and of course the homepage had a blaring headline about an ATTACK ON AMERICA. But I was still so annoyed with my stupid little problems that even THAT didn't phase me. I saw the words, but it still didn't register in my stupid head that something awful had happened.
When I returned to my room, Aadra (my roommate) was there, and looked upset, and asked if I knew what was going on. I was like, "Can you believe they cancelled my fucking test???" And she's like, "Come here." We went into Hilary's room, where of course there was footage of the towers being hit and collapsing. So then, FINALLY, my stupid, self-centered brain clicked and realized that there was something far, far worse going on than me missing my test. I immediately felt like the biggest ass in the world.
So that's my 9/11 "where were you when" story.
