Ten years ago today...
I was in 11th grade. I first heard between second and third hour from my best friend that a plane had crashed into the WTC. I wasn't quite sure where the WTC was, and, thinking it was just a tragic accident, I went to third hour thinking nothing more of it. But in fourth hour, my teacher had the TV on in the classroom, and we all watched the news footage as the other plane crashed into the second tower. Growing up in the US, I had been under the illusion that we were untouchable here - that no matter what happened everywhere else in the world, we were safe. That illusion was shattered as I watched the WTC come down, and I sobbed as I felt fear - real, honest, gut-wrenching fear - for the first time in my life. Lunch was in the middle of fourth hour, and I spent it praying for the people of NYC, and for my family, because a lot of my grandmother's cousins lived (and still live) there. For the rest of the day, classes where spent watching the news and waiting for parents to come pick us up because they wouldn't run the buses just in case. I remember exactly what I'd been wearing - black jeans and my black Hard Rock Cafe Miami t-shirt. After I got home, the rest of the day was a blur of shock.
The following summer, my family went on vacation to NYC, and we stopped at Ground Zero to pay our respects. I remember people laughing and taking pictures like it was just another tourist stop. I was so mad - countless people died at Ground Zero, including people who had given up their lives trying to save others, and here these shallow, callous tourists weren't giving the site any of the respect it deserved. To this day, I still regret that I hadn't told those people off for being unthinking, selfish assholes.