Low-flying planes...

The Memorial Day weekend is always a big deal in NYC--and as has been shown on Sex and the City episodes, Fleet Week means the entire city is filled with young U.S. officers--mostly from the Navy, but you see a few from the Army, National Guard, Coast Guard, etc. It's disturbing to me. First and foremost because this morning I completely forgot it was Fleet Week and there are lots and lots of low-flying planes and helicopters in the area. The first one I heard made my stomach drop, especially when it was followed by the sounds of sirens. Then there was another. And another. Finally it dawned on me that the city wasn't under attack by anyone more than a bunch of horny military men, and my anxiety went away. But still--it's disturbing. I hate talking about it, hate even bringing it up, but 9/11 completely changed the world for me and millions of other people. I always keep 2 pairs of comfortable shoes at my job now--one for winter, one for summer--just in case I have to ever make a long walk home to Brooklyn, I'm prepared with shoes other than the stilletos I'm usually in. Brad and I have an "emergency meeting spot"; in case of disaster, we know to go there, but first try to get in touch with one another via land lines and if that doesn't work, to do our best to get in touch with our mothers who are in the boroughs. I always carry cash on me--because lets face it, if you can't get to a cash machine, what are you going to do?

While Brad and I sat in the movie theater last week, waiting for The DaVinci Code to come on screen, we saw the preview for the movie World Trade Center. The reaction was instant and felt by the entire audience. You could already tell the movie was going to do an excellent job at portraying the visual chaos we all went through on 9/11/01. For me though--and for most New Yorkers I've spoken to about this--it's still too soon. Too soon to make those horrible moments of pure panic, terror, and fear a mere entertainment. I know that film is an art form, and people are free to express their views however they please, and I fully support that--but that doesn't mean I need those images in my head again, or that I have any desire to vicariously live through it all over again.

I remember that day--I was teaching at Brooklyn College when the first plane hit--and when someone came into the adjunct office not long after, I didn't believe them when they said that a plane crashed into the WTC. There was no way that could actually happen, but it did. It did. I took the bus to Kingsborough Community College soon after because I had the first day of classes to think about. I went to my English 93 class (remedial writing) and I had no idea what to say to my students. The students that showed up and I just talked about how we felt--who we were able to get in touch with, why we came to class, what we were feeling. I cried with them that day. It changed me. After that class, I cancelled my next one, and I was able to get in touch with my mother and brother, who picked me up from the Kingsborough campus shortly after. I managed to get in touch with a few of my other friends: Jenn--whose mom worked right down there, Ingrid, Claudia, and Steven, whose Manhattan apartment many people (including Jenn & her mom, thank goodness) managed to get to. My friend Amy came to my house and stayed with me. Amy and I just sat there--watching television, trying to reach people by phone, and crying.

I don't need a movie to help me relive those events. They are with me forever--I couldn't forget them if I wanted to. I think a lot of people feel the way I do, and know that movies will be made, and should be made, and all that. But I also know that it is too soon for me personally, when low-flying planes and sirens still reduce me to a shell-shocked mess.