One Tuesday morning about a decade ago, I drove off for work in the white, 1988 Ford Bronco II I shared with my brother. My hair was still wet from my morning routine of cupping water from the sink onto my head. This worked much faster than actually showering and, because I worked at Lube Express, the benefits of a proper bathe would surely have become nullified minutes after the first customer gently rolled in anyway. I would lean in to check fluid levels and soft dirt would collect in a line on my issued polo. My hands and fingers were forever brown and encrusted black under the nails and my greasy skin stunk of burned oil.
I got in the rig, buckled the seat belt that was broken and hung too loose and released the emergency break- a safety feature rendered useless after repeated (and often successful) attempts at driving with it engaged. I searched for a song on the radio. Finding a song was incredibly important. My drive was really only about five minutes (in hindsight I don't know why I didn't just save gas and walk) and I seemed to leave right at the time half of the handful of stations available in my small town went to commercial break or blathered about the weather. The right song could make or break my drive. On this day though, there was only news. I seeked through all of the stations twice before catching the gist of the story. And it was all the same story. A commercial aircraft had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City.
Today is May 2, 2011, and even if nothing significant happened on this day it would have been notable to me because it is my brother's 27th birthday. We no longer share a Bronco II. In fact, I haven't driven in about two years since I moved to Korea. Some days I still wet my hair down instead of shower (lay off me, I shower at the gym after work), but not today. This morning I woke up early for one of my thrice weekly sprints. So a shower was necessary.
I went to school earlier than usual to watch the NBA playoffs. The games had taken place earlier, but I had them recorded online. I watched the Miami-Boston game assuming that the east coast game had tipped off earlier. I like to do this to avoid any spoiler alerts. I was wrong. Memphis and Oklahoma City had played earlier in the day and of course I caught the announcers touting Memphis' win.
Nothing too eventful happened during class. My co-teacher was back this week after missing the last three work days due to her uncle's passing. It was nice not to be the only one to yell at the students for stealing each others' pencil cases. Why can't they keep their hands to themselves?
After our fourth period class before lunch I logged into my twitter account. My head spun as I began to notice that all the people I follow were talking about the same thing. I called my co-teacher over in disbelief and clicked over to cnn.com. The headline was bold and to the point: OSAMA BIN LADEN DEAD.
On 9/11 I went into work and the crew was in a state of disbelief I never could have imagined before that moment. Customers drove in and huddled next to to cheap boombox that carried out grim news and stern warnings from callers to those responsible. Today at lunch, minutes after I found out, I asked my vice principal if we could watch the breaking news, but the news wasn't on. The teachers at the table talked about it only after I brought it up and even then I wasn't able to understand what they were saying. After lunch I had one more class to teach and, understandably, the students had no clue as to the historical event that took place hours ago.
In the summer of 2001, I was at a crossroads. I had graduated from high school and was headed to college, but since my university was on the quarters system, most of my friends had left well before me. For so long my high school and athletics had been my world and now it was all gone. Friends a year below me seemed to relish their role as seniors, while I was stuck in limbo. What I didn't realize at the time was the world would soon open to something so much bigger. Today I find myself at a new crossroads. My time in Korea is coming to an end, and I will be re-assimilating into the United States with my first child, a daughter, and while I cannot be certain where I will end up professionally, I do believe the experiences I have lived through these ten years have given me strength and confidence.
Back on 9/11, I remember the distinct feeling that things would never be the same. I felt that again today. And this time, I liked it.
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