I was at a conference in Scottsdale. I woke up happy to sleep in. Turned the TV on to Good Morning America. It looked like they were showing a clip from a new movie; one of the towers was burning. I reached for my glasses and turned up the volume and realized it wasn’t a movie clip. And just then the second plane hit the building. Watched TV for as long as I could and then went down to the conference for breakfast. Everyone was stunned. The CEO hosting the conference said the morning meetings were cancelled. I went back and watched TV. Called home to my sister. It was scary being so far away from home (I live in Oregon) and not knowing what else would happen. The conference continued. People were renting cars to drive home (all over the country). 9/11 was a Tuesday. I was to have flown home on Thursday. Because flights were cancelled I could not get home until Saturday. Stuck at a posh resort all I did was watch the news, rotating through CNN, Fox and MSNBC. I remember on the flight home it was the quietest I had ever experienced flying. You could tell everyone relieved to be going home. When I stepped off the plane the first person I saw was my sister. We hugged for what seemed like forever. And that was probably the last time I flew where family could greet you at the gate. I became hooked on the news. Had it on constantly at home. And then after a year I realized that things moved slowly; that the same stories were repeated over and over. I gave it up cold turkey for a month and realized I didn’t need it. Now I only catch the headlines.
Happy National Cartoonists Day, Lennie! Inko de Mayo!