9/11 Nostalgia

I don’t mean to be cynical (I know, I almost always DO in fact mean to be cynical. In this case I do not). When something massive happens in the world, especially now in the age of tight and nearly universal electronic and social linkage, after time passes, the event is remembered simply for the event. Not for the tragedy or triumph. Simply because something happened to us collectively and it is part of our collective consciousness.


This is intensely true for the events of 9/11. There is plenty of legitimate memorial of the tragedy, heroism, and intensity of that day. There is also a lot of memorial simply of our collective experience. What I mean by not being cynical is that I don’t think this is any less legitimate than the more serious and dark-eyed remembrance. After all, a big shock is a big shock, whatever the outcome. The recent earthquake here on the east coast is a lesser example. Not much result, but sufficiently novel and affecting a sufficient number of people to warrant a lot of discussion. In the case of 9/11, of course, you had the much wider collective experience coupled with massive consequence. So the experience itself is a stand-alone event worthy of remembrance.


National Geographic Channel did a great job putting together a series of shows that premier this week addressing 9/11 issues. I thought I would have to force myself to watch them. But the shows are so well done it’s no effort at all. I commend the entire run of shows (well, except the Rudy Giuliani one. Even I couldn’t stomach that. The W interview is worth watching, though), most of them a couple hours, to you. 


In the meantime, where were you on September 11 2000? I was in Cleveland. I flew in early that Tuesday morning, leaving BWI around 0630, hitting downtown Cleveland at around 0800. Three of us—one from Syracuse, one from Denver, and me, were converging for a proposal presentation to a client. We convened in the hotel room that one of the guys had booked the night before. Pulled out computers and started to review the Power Points. Cathy called my cell, something she rarely does during business hours when I’m on the road, so I assumed it was some kind of emergency. She told us to put on a television.


Which we did. Hooolllllyyyyy shhhhiiiittttttt. We watched the second plane hit the South Tower. Then the alarm went off and the hotel announced evacuation. Our near-the-waterfront location was directly in the path of Flight 93. The TV said commercial flights were grounded. Out in the plaza, a big jet flew low overhead in the clear, cool air, slowly turning in a big loop as it reversed back east. It was indeed United 93.


All of downtown Cleveland was evacuated. We wandered around the square outside the train station and shopping mall just up the hill from the Rock and Roll Museum and Hall of Fame. Repeatedly called the client via cells. No answer, of course. I told the two guys that we had to start figuring out how we were going to get out of town. They thought the client might want to hold the meeting later in the afternoon. I looked at them like they were deranged capitalists. Which they were. But they were insistent.


Finally I called our corporate travel agent and had them start reserving three vehicles, one for each of us, at every rent-a-car counter in or near Cleveland. I asked them to locate the nearest Hertz office, because according to the news, traffic in Cleveland was frozen and getting to the airport rental counters would take hours. Turned out to be 4 blocks from where we were. I grabbed the two guys—both of them frantically and repeatedly dialing the client’s number—and dragged them bodily along the street to the Hertz office.


We got into the queue that stretched half a block. A woman stuck her head out the door and shouted “we’re running out of cars. Who has reservations?” I waved my hand and said we had three. Woman behind us had one. “We have four cars left. You four, come in.” She pulled us inside and locked the door behind us.


Took an hour to process us. They did indeed have a car for each of us. When she handed me the keys, I popped the door open and shouted to the line for anyone going to Washington or Baltimore. Two kids popped up, a thin white girl and a black guy, and said they were in. When we got to the car in the garage, they said they had a third who would be along in a bit and did I mind the wait. I told them I thought we had all the time in the world. A black girl, also anorexically slender, showed up, heaved her gear in the trunk, and we headed for I80.


8 hours later we merged off 70 onto 695, then 95. I never did get their whole story. They were with some media firm, pitching a client. Their car was at BWI. I dropped them off, figured the rental counter at BWI wasn’t going to be open and drove the rental home. Swapped it out a few days later, no charge. 


A few weeks later I was back on the road. When my briefcase went through the scanner, the guard said “there’s a knife in your bag”. I said I didn’t think so, I tossed my pocket knife and metal belt into a trash can in Cleveland. But they searched. Didn’t find it. Over the next month, every 2 or 3 security checks, somebody would think they saw a knife in my bag. But the search never turned it up.


I found it months later when I was emptying the bag out completely, getting ready for a long trip. Meaning I passed through the post-911 “enhanced security” at airports roughly 16 or 18 times with a knife in my bag… .


New stuff up around the weblog horn this week. Be sure, if you have a few minutes, to visit http://sustainablebiospheredotnet.blogspot.com/ for an essay on environmental consequences of armed conflict, http://docviper.livejournal.com/ for the natural world, and http://endoftheworldpartdeux.blogspot.com/ for the weekly cancer diary. Thanks for stopping by!