Ten Years Later: My Memories of that Awful Day

Forget September 11, 2001? I know I never will. Personally, I don't think too many people over the age 13 will. (Anyone younger than 13 today was either a small toddler, an infant or not born yet. I base this assumption on my own memory recall ability as I cannot remember anything in my life before the age of three.)

First, I believe I should begin my recollection with this disclaimer: My memories of 9/11 don't even come close to the tragedy of the people who had to experience it first hand...or even second-hand. I'm fortunate that I was thousands miles away from all three of the attacks.

Nevertheless, like the whole world, Terre Haute, Indiana, my home, wasn't completely immune. I, too, remember that awful day.

Ironically, it started out as a picture-perfect day. I recall the sky, which was cloudless, having an unusually brilliant shade of blue. I remember thinking to myself that I should call in for my scheduled 12-hour shift at Sony DADC, which is where I was gainfully employed as a temp at the time.

Anyway, I reported to work and clocked in 6 a.m. Soon, I began working on my assigned packaging line. There are no clocks in Sony's packaging plant, so I'm guessing around 8 a.m, about an hour or so before my first break, I overheard my line leader saying that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I asked her if anyone was hurt thinking it was only an accident. She said she didn't know.

A little later, I overheard her saying a plane had crashed into the Pentagon.

"I thought you said it was the World Trade Center.", I said.

She said, "This is another one."

I thought to myself,"What are the odds of two plane crashes into national landmarks on the same day?"

She must have seen my look of puzzlement and said, "We're under attack!".

"No frickin'way", I thought. "She must have her facts wrong".

When break time finally arrived, I knew something definitely up. Instead of the usual, boring Sony closed-circuit broadcast, the break room TV monitors had live news coverage of it showing the awful image of smoke billowing out from the WTC. No one was saying a word. My boss soon came by and told me that DADC was closing down for the day, and that I could go home.

Later that day, I remember that that some of the Terre Haute schools had bomb scares, and that certain gas stations decided to raise their gas prices. One station on Wabash decided to spike their prices up to $6 dollars-a-gallon, which is high even by today's standards. That gas station went out of business when calmer heads began to prevail again in the days afterward.