Today’s 9/11. I’m not going to argue or debate anything about it today. I’m just going to tell my story of 9/11. This is my truth of that day. We owe the dead nothing but the truth.

I was working and living in Kenosha. I worked for a market research firm called Market Probe. We did phone and in-person marketing research surveys. It was pretty bad but not the worst job I’ve ever had.

As usual, I’d stopped in the Walgreens next door. Someone said they’d heard on the news that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. I just thought some bozo in a Cessna had a bad day.

When I got to work, that’s when I learned that the plane was a jumbo jet. It confused me, because I knew a lot of stuff had to fuck up for that to happen. But I went to work.

We were actually calling businesses in New York that morning. Manhattan, to be precise. Stupid surveys about new business names. I called and called, kept getting no answers or hang ups. After about a half hour, I got an answer.

“Oh fuck,” the guy said, “I thought you were my wife calling me back. “

I tried explaining what I was doing. He wasn’t having it.

“We’re evacuating the building. I’m in the World Trade Center.”

His next words froze me in my seat. “Holy shit. A body just fell past my window.” The call ended.

A few minutes after that, and a dozen more calls, My boss came out of her office. She was an older woman, very stern. She was ghost white.

“Everyone shut off your phones. A second plane has hit the World Trade Center.”

You have very few moments where you know, right then and there, that the world has changed, and for the worse. A loved one dies. You lose your job. This was bigger. And we had no idea what to do next. We wandered around the office. It was before everyone had internet on their phone, so people were looking for a television. We never found one. My boss had the radio on in her office. She yelled “God damn it” when the announcer said another plane had hit the Pentagon. That was when they sent everyone home.

I didn’t drive at that time, so I started walking home. One of my coworkers grabbed me by the arm, and told me he’d drive me home. Nobody needed to be out walkign right now. When I got home, the guys in the apartment downstairs waved me into their place. First thing I was was the Pentagon burning. I burst into tears.

I got my neighbor to drive me to Lianna’s after a bit. My stepdaughters had all been picked up by their grandmother. We sat there all night watching the news. I feared for my children. I feared for everyone. I called my parents and checked on my neighbors.

I’m normally posting here to do positive things. But I can’t think of anything positive about that day. I visited the memorial a few years ago. They have bodies they still haven’t identified. I wondered if one of them was the guy who fell or who I talked to.

After 9/11, I didn’t work for a week, I soon got my driver’s license and quit the market research business. People got mean after 9/11. They got scared. A moment that could have united us, divided us further. If there’s anything that 9/11 did, was it made it easier to find some strains of assholes. Good night.