story195.xml
Title
story195.xml
Source
born-digital
Media Type
story
Date Entered
2002-03-08
911DA Story: Story
I was on the couch; sick from work. My girlfriend had gone off to class and I was consoling my stomach bug with tea and muted television as I tried to nap the illness away. I am not sure what awoke me; I opened my eyes seconds before Good Morning America cut in with the live feed of the Towers. Disbelief, shock, dread, and an inward knowledge that this was somehow not an accident sank into me.
After a few minutes of watching I called my mother back in Lubbock and told her to turn on the television. As she walked to her living room I saw the second jet pass through the camera's field and strike, turning at the last second like a guided missile homing in on its target. We sat and watched, my mom and I, unspeaking over the phone line for quite awhile then she excused herself; still through all this there were errands she needed to run and things to do before her day was over.
I watched and watched and watched. I flipped through the channels, catching the various angles, until I came to one station that was showing a few desperate victims, a handful that were trapped and were unable to evacuate, giving up and jumping from their windows. How horrible a decision that must have been.
When the first WTC Tower collapsed I had nothing but selfish thoughts. I did not think of the thousand still attempting to escape. I did not think of their families or the civilians on the streets below. All I could think about were the rescue workers. Being a Paramedic myself, all I could think about were the Firefighters, EMT's, and Cops that had to been inside. Trapped. Scared. Dead for sure in their final duty. I thought that that was the last straw. That tower falling and wiping out that many rescue workers had to have just thrown the service into complete chaos. And then the second tower fell and still, selfishly, all I could think was what Hell and despair these EMS, PD, and FD guys must be going through. It is horrible of me, but I did not mourn for those that worked in the WTC; I could have cared less for the victims. I was only worried about the rescue personnel.
Throughout the day I became angrier and angrier at the speed in which the Government discovered the identities of the hijackers. It is an irrational thought, but if they could have done it this quickly then how could it not have been prevented. I was angry with the passengers for not fighting back more, for not using their numbers to overwhelm the few assailants.
The day went on with the same scenes over and over on the television. The local channels showed images of downtown Houston as it was being evacuated and traffic was being detoured around the center of the city and all the tall buildings within. Galveston EMS went on standby alert and I packed up my kit with three days of food, water, and clothing in case we got called in. I watched the fighter jets go out on patrol over the the Island and into the Gulf. The city was quiet that night. Nobody went out. Stepping onto my balcony all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing into the seawall. Looking across the parking lot, and then out past the bayou, every house and apartment I looked at, I saw the blue-green cast that the TV's screens cast on the shaded and curtained windows.
I never have felt overly patriotic about this. I have not felt unified with my fellow citizens. I only feel that something has been lost in us and can never be recovered.
After a few minutes of watching I called my mother back in Lubbock and told her to turn on the television. As she walked to her living room I saw the second jet pass through the camera's field and strike, turning at the last second like a guided missile homing in on its target. We sat and watched, my mom and I, unspeaking over the phone line for quite awhile then she excused herself; still through all this there were errands she needed to run and things to do before her day was over.
I watched and watched and watched. I flipped through the channels, catching the various angles, until I came to one station that was showing a few desperate victims, a handful that were trapped and were unable to evacuate, giving up and jumping from their windows. How horrible a decision that must have been.
When the first WTC Tower collapsed I had nothing but selfish thoughts. I did not think of the thousand still attempting to escape. I did not think of their families or the civilians on the streets below. All I could think about were the rescue workers. Being a Paramedic myself, all I could think about were the Firefighters, EMT's, and Cops that had to been inside. Trapped. Scared. Dead for sure in their final duty. I thought that that was the last straw. That tower falling and wiping out that many rescue workers had to have just thrown the service into complete chaos. And then the second tower fell and still, selfishly, all I could think was what Hell and despair these EMS, PD, and FD guys must be going through. It is horrible of me, but I did not mourn for those that worked in the WTC; I could have cared less for the victims. I was only worried about the rescue personnel.
Throughout the day I became angrier and angrier at the speed in which the Government discovered the identities of the hijackers. It is an irrational thought, but if they could have done it this quickly then how could it not have been prevented. I was angry with the passengers for not fighting back more, for not using their numbers to overwhelm the few assailants.
The day went on with the same scenes over and over on the television. The local channels showed images of downtown Houston as it was being evacuated and traffic was being detoured around the center of the city and all the tall buildings within. Galveston EMS went on standby alert and I packed up my kit with three days of food, water, and clothing in case we got called in. I watched the fighter jets go out on patrol over the the Island and into the Gulf. The city was quiet that night. Nobody went out. Stepping onto my balcony all I could hear was the sound of the waves crashing into the seawall. Looking across the parking lot, and then out past the bayou, every house and apartment I looked at, I saw the blue-green cast that the TV's screens cast on the shaded and curtained windows.
I never have felt overly patriotic about this. I have not felt unified with my fellow citizens. I only feel that something has been lost in us and can never be recovered.
Collection
Citation
“story195.xml,” September 11 Digital Archive, accessed January 25, 2025, https://911digitalarchive.org/items/show/17382.