PLANES ARE ONLY LANDING BECAUSE SKIES ARE FALLING

It was a day just like all the others this time of year. Summer was gone so the sky had given up much of its blueness to the patches of grey. The air over at Annapolis Junction smelled like tar, morning dew and burning tobacco from all those lucky enough to have smoke breaks. Leaves were readying to change colors and tumble to the ground. Fall was just around the corner.

I worked at a pool company so everybody was in mad closing meltdown. From the second I walked into the door I was bombarded by the simultaneous ringing of all four lines on my phone. I sat down at my desk and proceeded to open up my ear so that angry customers could scream into it. That was what I did back then. While it doesn't sound glamorous I had been working this job for a couple of years so I was actually beginning to feel as if I had managed to fall into a niche that was comfortable enough to stay put in. I was a human punching bag for the rich and wishfully famous. You know who I mean. People who live in mansions and drive high five digit automobiles. The kind of people who never make the front page and always treat others as if they feel slighted by such omission. It wasn't all bad though. Some of the people were pretty damn awesome. Most were just awesomely ass-holish. But I learned to keep those types at bay and on that particular morning, September eleventh two thousand and one, I realized that my job and my life were finally in order as I sat there answering phones and putting out fires.

The office was small. It smelled like chlorine, potato chips and boss farts. There were just two of us working there. Me and Guy Thomas, flanked by two doors. One door lead into the warehouse and back to the construction division. The other kept us closed off from the administration types. They liked that shit a whole lot because they considered us, the service division, the black sheep of the company. I liked it even more than they did. Those two doors were like family to me. They were always there. They didn't say much but they stood vigil between me and the enemy, a guy named Dick. It should go without saying that Dick was aptly named but I can't allow that to happen.

Guy's wife, Angela, was supposed to be in that day because I needed help during opening and closing season. Those were some crazy crazy days. I remember him saying that she was going to be in late because she had to drop off their kids at school or something. I didn't care. The phones were ringing non-stop. Caring sounds good on paper but time and circumstance severely prohibited me from getting involved.

It was eight something in the morning on a Tuesday. My methods for recalling certain mundane details can be a little unusual at times. In this case I knew it was Tuesday because it was new release day at Best Buy and the Slayer album was coming out that day. During closing season my brain seems to function in three modes. Eat, sleep and answer phones. But there is always time for a little soul music and my agenda that day was simple. Let people scream at me, then race out the door at five so I can hit the nearest Best Buy and pick up the new Slayer. It was going to be a good day. I could just feel it.

One of the perks of working in an office, and particularly with a cool boss, is having the radio on a good station. Our station of choice had become Ninety Eight Rock ever since the Greaseman got yanked again for that whole Lauryn Hill comment. The Greaseman is a hard act to top but I had grown overly fond of the Ninety Eight Rock morning show. Kirk, Mark and Lopez. KML, baby! These guys made mornings worth smiling about over at Guilford road.

The morning was its usual chaotic self. Phones ringing off the hook. People yelling that they wanted their pools closed yesterday. My head was spinning. My ears were sizzling. My chair felt as if it were closing in around my lower extremities.

But life was good.

Pumpkin beers poured from the taps of my mind. I had visions of turkey stuffed with all the trimmings crawling up off my plate to do the "three days on and four days off boogie" in celebration of the soon to come Thanksgiving work week. Slap all that up on a biscuit and sit it next to Christmas and New Years and you have a buffet of reasons why it's great to be in the pool business on the East coast.

Kirk, Mark and Lopez were yukking it up on the radio while Guy and I yukked it up in the office. I think he farted again or something. It doesn't take much to entertain us guys. Oh, and the new Slayer. This day was going to be legendary. These were my last relevant thoughts at somewhere around eight forty five that morning. Pretty much everything after that was a blur.

The first plane was said to have hit the North tower at eight forty six a.m. Even at that moment none of us knew just how drastically life would change. It seemed tragic and yet, at the time, it was random. The radio changed its course as the morning show went from comedy bits to buzzing about this horrible accident. What could have happened? At this point, only those responsible were in the know. But three other planes were soon to attempt similar fates. Speculation fueled the flames of conspiracy. But it wasn't until seventeen minutes after that first plane hit that all of us knew what had happened, even if we didn't know why and that those responsible weren't done with us yet. Nothing else mattered at that moment. The United States of America had been attacked by terrorists.

The facts kept roaring in. Soon two other jets roared in as well. The third would hit the Pentagon at nine thirty seven. The last plane found its hostages putting up a fight. It was said the final target was to be the United States Capitol. It wound up crashing in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania. Three planes hit their intended targets that day. Those aboard that fourth one made sure those statistics wore a death cap. By ten thirty that morning both towers had collapsed and nothing would be the same ever again. The citizens raced through the streets as the tides of terror gushed its waves through the city of New York. As Lady Liberty watched in horror the towers fell, leaving a black hole in the wounded heart of both New York City and the rest of the country. An Islamic terrorist group called al-qaeda had taken a bite out of the big apple.

At the time this occurred, many people, myself included, wouldn't know al-qaeda from Al Capone. I never paid much attention to the circus of politics. I still know very little in the scope of things. But one thing that is universal knowledge, on that day, thirteen years ago, life in the United States changed. Everything we do, everything that we are.... it all comes back to that one moment in time and wondering if whether it could have been prevented and what can we do to prevent something else of the sort from happening again. Looking around at politics, and life in general, it seems as if our country is being slowly flushed down the toilet now. Nine eleven was one of the most horrific moments in our lifetimes. Over the years it has taken on a whole new meaning. I say this not to detract from the tragedy itself and those who were, and still are, directly within its grasp. I say this as an American, but most of all as a human being. Things have changed since then, and it doesn't seem like any of it's for the better. That day. That fucking day is what started this mess we are all left to squalor in. I don't know what could have been done to prevent it from happening. I certainly don't know what can be done to prevent anything of its ilk from happening again. I just know that as Americans, and humans, we can all hope and offer prayer of some kind that things will turn around. Though none of us will ever forget those events at the very least maybe we can build enough strength and stature so as to assure something so horrific will never happen again.

I don't know, man. I don't have any answers. Sadly, it doesn't seem like our own government has them either. I can only ever speak for myself. After those planes hit my mind was kind of a blur. I remember more chaos being piled upon the already chaotic day. I remember how fearless and diligent Lopez from Ninety Eight Rock was as he went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure we the people, though we didn't exactly feel safe, were well informed. Lopez himself died a few years later from cancer. God rest his soul. God rest the souls of everyone who died on nine eleven as well.

I have never once given up hope. I talk a mean game of skepticism and my volume can be rather loud at times. But at heart I am as soft as melted ice cream. I wish things could be different in this world. I wish that we could all get along. I don't think it's wrong to point out that it is certainly not happening right now. Far from it actually. I feel like nine eleven was some kind of tipping point. I always hear people saying how united we the people were then and after that day we all came together and loved one another and blah-blah-blah. Maybe in fire houses and victims funerals that was the mode emotions took but I remember what it was like back then particularly well. In the streets. Let me tell you, people hated each other around that time. Halloween was scary for all the wrong reasons. Thanksgiving was pointless because.... well, what did any of us have to be thankful about at that time? We were among the living, sure. But that moment will not be remembered for its unity and humanity. More like hostility and intolerance. The seeds of separation were sowed for American humanity on that day. Modern day finds everyone hating each other even worse than ever before. I'll never give up hope though. I'll kick, scream and rip all the finger/toe nails from my body fighting for hope if I have to.

Things will get better. Things have to get better. When nine eleven rolls around each year just contemplating the alternative seems like such a bad route to travel. I have lots of scattered memories from that day. All the crying and screaming. Everybody scrambling to get where they were going, even though some people didn't even know where they were going. I never once watched the televised images of people jumping to their deaths as the towers burned. But just knowing that the ghoulish media found these images newsworthy enough to replay them over and over is enough to make me cringe for future generations. I mean, it's one thing to have hope for mankind. But the media will never change. These people are the biggest parasites on the face of the earth. If human beings can all realize this and turn off their televisions and ignore their news feeds whenever a death scene is showed in graphic detail or a nine one one call is played back for some lunatic to revel in.... well, that would be a start now wouldn't it?

Nine eleven is of course no longer considered a day like all the others. Its scope reaches all around the globe and its relevance comes in different shapes and sizes to each of us. As I said before I can only ever speak for myself. Like everyone else with a soul I can say this day is a sad one. It's sad for all the people who died then or as a result of then somehow. It's sad for their families. They have to live the rest of their lives remembering the horror that was inflicted upon the country and their experiences run blood deep because they have to do so while looking at table spaces that are as empty as the ones in their hearts. For me nine eleven seems like a doorway. I mean, life was never perfect. But before that day it was good enough for most of us. It was like we all did our thing up until September tenth two thousand and one and then had to pass through that doorway. Once we all came out none of us were the same. On this day I shall mourn for all the families directly affected by this tragedy. But who I shall mourn for the most is Lady Liberty. As those towers burned, and eventually fell, she had to stand helpless and watch as the smoke billowed to the Heavens. This image has never left her. Just as those images forced upon us by both terrorists and the media will never leave any of us human beings in America.

An interesting side note to the events of my day thirteen years ago.... in all the chaos I forgot about the Slayer album. I like to think that life should go on for those of us left in the shadow of tragedy. Work of course let out early and people went home to do their thing. Some hugged their kids extra hard because they never wanted to let them go. Others kissed their wives longer and stronger, as if to hold the moment forever. At that point in my life all I had was my music and my books. After being let out of work I decided to take a drive to the nearest Best Buy, which of course was closed. I didn't think anything of it. I went home and mourned. Then got up the next day and tried to get on with my life. Booking closings, getting yelled at. I spent the days in a funk and didn't really really give much thought to anything I did. On September twelfth I left work and grabbed the Slayer album. The dots didn't really connect until I had the cover in my hand. The name of that Slayer album was God Hates Us All. At the time those words seemed real. All these years later it still seems rather morbid. Even though to some God might seem forsaking, I like to think God certainly doesn't hate anyone. Let alone all of us. On days like nine eleven maybe it seems like God does hate us all. But life happens around us no matter what. Part of life is death. A factor of death is tragedy. Though things seem really fucked up now in the world we need to pull ourselves together and unite. Both as humans and as a country. Even if God did hate all of us, that doesn't mean we have to follow suit.