After sixish, I woke the kids to get them ready for school. I had yet another day of job-searching planned for myself (I was in the midst of a 5+ month employment drought).
My very pregnant wife and daughter left at around 20 minutes to 9 to get my daughter to school by 9. I poured myself a second cup of coffee, sat down at my desk and turned my attention to "Good Day Atlanta" on WAGA.
A commercial for some car dealer or some other sundry thing was on. The commercial ended abruptly as Lisa Rayam said, "We're going to join CNN live right now; there's something happening in New York City - it appears that an airplane has struck one of the towers of the World Trade Center."
My mouth fell open as I was entranced. The first thing I thought of was the Empire State Building plane crash that we'd all seen pictures of, where the plane got lost in the fog.
I started flipping to all the affiliates and news stations -- news junkie that I am -- to see if there was any better information than what was coming from CNN.
By 9, I figured that the quick shower that I had in mind was out, so I flipped on the set in the bedroom so I could hear and see it while I washed up and tossed on a t-shirt and sweats.
I remember thinking as time appeared to slow down, "What's that plane doing? Is it a military rescue plane? It's banking awful sharply to get around--"
Like the rest of the nation, I went numb.
I rushed back into the living room and frantically found the phone. I knew my brother would be getting ready for work, and not out the door yet up in Indiana.
"Hello," the voice on the other end grumbled.
"Turn on CNN, now," I yelled.
After a pause, he said, "Holy shit! What is it, terrorists!?"
"Yeah, it looks like it."
I was transfixed the rest of the day, hell, the rest of the week. When my kids got home, I turned to other things - thank God for Disney Channel & Cartoon Network.
It was hard to get to sleep that night with those scenes playing out over and over again when I closed my eyes. The people jumping. The flames. The falling towers. The dust-covered zombies who were the walking wounded.
Not only that, after midnight, jumbo freight jets for FedEx, UPS and all the rest normally fly overheard out of Hartsfield with packages for the world. Their thundering rumbles are almost comforting after all these years. That night, however, was eerily quiet.
I knew the world had changed forever that day. I knew that we were at war with a foe that could strike us anywhere at any time. I was afraid for my family. For my friends.
Like the rest of the nation, I mourned. I was blessed not to have lost anyone direcly in the disaster, but friends had lost. Family, even, had lost people close to them.
And those bastards had the audacity and unmitigated evil to celebrate. They thought they had mortally injured us. But after we mourned, and cried, we dried those tears and put on our collective armor.
Like a rivalry between schools, we fight each other tooth and nail regularly. We trade licks and insults and venom with regularity. But don't ever mistake that for weakness. Because you hit one of us - rival or otherwise - and you have to take us all on.
It's like Bill Bixby in 'The Hulk' years ago.
"Don't make me angry....You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
Amen to that. there have been times I regretted letting my kids have a TV in their room. That day was not one of them.
Not only that, after midnight, jumbo freight jets for FedEx, UPS and all the rest normally fly overheard out of Hartsfield with packages for the world. Their thundering rumbles are almost comforting after all these years. That night, however, was eerily quiet.
The first few nights after I got out of the Air Force, I kept waking up several times a night and didn't know why. One night it dawned on me that it was too quiet--I'd been sleeping within earshot of a busy airfield almost every night for over four years.
"Don't make me angry....You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
Dead on.