Still Blurry

It is 7:48 on Sunday morning and my eyes are still blurry. I haven't eaten breakfast or taken my pill. I just had an airborne hoping to keep the odd feeling in my throat from turning into real sickness. It has been an excellent weekend.

Yesterday Plosk and I saw United 93. I went into the film with no expectations. Plosk had been a bit worried about me seeing it since I don't really watch things about 9/11 on purpose. I have my memories of that day, of watching the towers fall, of wandering around nyc unable to contact anyone. I have my own personal 9/11 story of where I was and what I was doing much like everyone else does. It reminds me of the question, where were you when Kennedy was shot? Perhaps it's a new question for a new generation. Where were you when the towers fell? I was on west 11th watching with my 9am creative non fiction class. Then I walked downtown against the hordes of people aiming away from the blasts. I wanted to get to the gallery down on broome but only got as far as Astor Place when I heard from one of the thousands in the streets that the pentagon was hit. I was shocked and cried randomly until a kind judge and some lawyers took me in and asked me to sit with them at the Astor Place starbucks. They were so generous to take in what must have looked like a ragged and stray kitten. I was quiet but decided to ask the people who worked at starbucks to put the radio on so we could hear the news. They responded, "We don't want to upset anyone." Well done starbucks. While a stones throw away we were hit by terrorists, they are worried about worrying people.

In any case, all this time I am trying to contact my parents. I stopped back at the New School and attempt to use their internet and I email people who I think will be worried. I then make my way up to Union Square where Mer lived so I could see her, see someone I knew. NYC was mad and everyone was on the streets. It was a time to be around others even if you were alone. The phone wasn't working in the NYU building and security wouldn't let me up. I waited there for her and eventually she came back. Buka called me to find out if I was ok and for the first time my cell phone worked. She called my parents and told them I was fine.

My 9/11 story is about a confused and scared new yorker. There is no bravery or decision making involved. I was simply a wandering child who didn't know what to do or where do go. My home was 3 blocks from the towers and I can't say enough how happy I am to not have been home that morning. I wouldn't return there for a week. And when I did eventually return my apartment was covered with the dust of the buildings that had come down, and the meat my roommates had in the freezer bled down over the rest of the fridge and reminded me of violence. Three blocks from where the towers fell, it looked like it was snowing for weeks.

United 93 tells a 9/11 story I can only thank whoever there is to thank for not being a part of it. We all know the plot loosely. The film pulls no sentimental punches. And still I cried or teared from about 1/2 way through on. I felt rage. I felt helplessness and I thought of my own 9/11 story. I knew no one in the towers. I am so lucky.

This is an amazing movie to see. I say this with a warning label. It is terrifying and difficult. It is unflinching and I don't think I'd ever watch it again. It is the most emotional response I have ever had to a film. Hollywood produced an unhollywood version of the events. Thank you to the creators. I thought it was too soon for great art to be made about the events. I was wrong. Many of the air traffic controllers played themselves. That alone should say something. Reality breathes in this film. And I heard sobs upon sobs through the audience. If anyone else has seen it, I'd love to hear some other reactions.