Inspired by Sailor Purgatory, I decided to write this. This is where I was as well as what I thought.

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My mother had habitually risen to greet the day with a cranky smile, and a “where’s my coffee” look on her face. This I didn’t learn until I was in 9th grade and I started getting up before her, but I wasn’t quite that old then. When I was in the sixth grade, she had always gotten up, turned on the news, drunk some coffee, and then she would wake me up. Then came the not-so-fun part where I would be yelled at for dawdling.

She would take Allison, (my younger, bratty sister,) to school, with a reminder that I was to be out at the bus stop at 8:15.

She always left the TV on.

On September 11, 2001, I was mesmerized by a burning building they were suddenly covering. Thick, black smoke was making curliques across the screen, and being somewhat of a fan of morbidity, I was totally absorbed in the pictures and disregarding the pictures that went with them. I didn’t even know what building was on fire.

Suddenly, even as the mediapersons proceeded with their coverage, another plane crashed into the building, as swift as a dragonfly. In the middle of their coverage!

“Whoa!” I think one newsperson said. I’m not sure. Smoke rose up. Thinking it was some kind of gimmick, or perhaps some mediocre coverage on a foreign war, my face lit up.

“Cool!” I thought. I was somewhat of a news deficit. I didn’t know it was the World Trade Towers…

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I may continue this to the extended coverage of when I actually found out what a dipwad I was for thinking that it was cool. Maybe.