September 11: Ten Years Later

I was still getting to know the girls at my lunch table, we were all beginning sixth grade together in a new school. An eighth grade teacher on lunch duty escorted my friend, Elizabeth, to the front office. Her mom had called and wanted to let her know that her dad was alright. Elizabeth's dad was in the Marine Corps and had been in New York that day. 

We hadn't heard anything from teachers or other students.  I had noticed a few students leave school early, but nothing out of the ordinary, though as the day progressed and class sizes shrunk it became more apparent. 

When Elizabeth got back from the office she told us that a plane had hit some skyscrapers in New York. None of us knew what the World Trade Center was, none of us had been there, I had never been to New York City. It was completely foreign to me. It wasn't until I got home from school that I found out about the plane that had hit the Pentagon, just twenty-five miles away from my house.

Volleyball tryouts and all other after school activities had been canceled. My mom wasn't home, but she didn't want me to be by myself and had asked her friend to meet me. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed to be home alone, it was that she was nervous. I don't remember the woman's name, but we sat on the couch and watched the footage together. I don't really remember talking to my parents about it. I knew what happened, I had let it set in, but I wasn't scared.

That night everyone in my neighborhood had flags and candles set out on their porches. School had been canceled for the next two days and everyone on my street was outside. While the adults talked amongst themselves, me and a couple of other kids noticed the helicopters flying overhead in regular intervals. We were used to seeing them, it's fairly normal to see one any day anywhere in the DC suburbs, but not as frequently as they were that evening, and for the following months. 

The next day's paper included a printed flag for readers to tape in their windows and doors. The candles continued to be lit each evening. The eerie sense of unity persisted well after the paper flags had faded and been thrown away. 

I understood what terrorism was, but it wasn't a word that I had heard much before September 11th, I wasn't aware of The Middle East, or what countries it was made up of - I could hardly pass my states quiz in History class. September 11th very abruptly made me aware of a much larger world, one in which one's nationality and religion mattered. I had Muslim friends and classmates from everywhere, and that day didn't make me reconsider their friendship, it wasn't something that anyone cared about at lunch, not at school. They were Americans too, and just as affected as I was. 

Of everything everyone seemed to be feeling, the only emotion that had really set in for me was sadness. I was confused. We hadn't done anything, at least nothing twelve year olds are aware of, and the idea that people existed whose intentions were to interrupt my life, who set out each day to conceive new ideas for inflicting fear upon anyone vulnerable enough to accept it, that, that was what I didn't understand. Ten years later there is still no understanding to be had. As long as people remain scared of the unfamiliar, of the foreign, of people in clothing different than our own, with customs traditional to a culture we ignore and bigot, the hatred and fear and terror will persist.

like a pissed, seaside donkey

Between yesterday and today Northern Virginia and DC have accumulated as much as thirty inches of snow. Richmond got rain yesterday and some snow today. It didn't accumulate as much, but was nasty enough outside that my boss closed the salon today.

I thought about driving up last night, and then I thought better of it. And Chanello's (the awful, but delicious pizza place across the street from my apartment building) was open, and the remainder of a six-pack of Shiner Bock in my fridge, and Groundhog Day on TV - everything was point towards staying in. And I did, and I made it through my pizza in about twenty minutes, three of the five beers, the latest episode of The Real World DC, and two showing of Groundhog Day on Bravo. There was so much that coud have been accomplished during that time, but when the weather is shitty, who's in the mood to do anything?

But today. TODAY! Today, I had to make it to NOVA. My brother and his wife are visiting from Spain and I haven't seen them since August, and this may be the last time I see them before their baby is born. My sister-in-law is slated to leave tomorrow, so it had to be today. And I made it. In one piece. On interstate 95. In my shittyshitty Toyota (that is going to combust any day now). This was quite the feat, but a completely stupid thing to do. So stupid in fact, God at one point shouted at me to STOP! GO HOME! TO RICHMOND! in the way of me doing a complete 360 in the middle of the road.

Needless to say, I did not listen. But I came to a stop, watched the now on-coming traffic pass - all of two cars - collected myself, made a u-turn and continued on my way.

I am, as my mother says a "very hard-headed" person. And upon my arrival she shook her head and gave me a hug and told me how stupid I am. The rest of my family shortly followed suit. I did not tell them about the spinning incident. (None of them read my blog, so...)

Actually, first my brother, Joseph, told me to take my boots off because he didn't want to get his socks wet, and then he hugged me while explaining how I was going to help him shovel out a spot for my car. He's so sweet. He and I dug, and dug and moved most of a pile that he had made earlier today, all to accomodate my car and make room for a plow, just in case the plow decided to show up (it did).

My father's birthday was this past Thursday and Joseph's is this Friday, so we had all made plans to do birthday things this weekend. And then it snowed, so those plans went kaput. Instead we watche the remainder of a Western my dad had Tivo-ed and listened to him explain something every time he paused it - because we love him. This was followed by a spaghetti dinner, In the Loop and homemade cinnamon rolls courtesy of my very talented mother.

My dad words for the State Department and is a retired Marine. I have been trying to get him to see In the Loop since i saw the trailor months ago. I only saw the film myself a few weeks ago, but kept it was passt it's due date and only returned after I saw that Blockbuster had charged my card for it. It is a political satire about the United States' relationship with Britain. According to my father, people don't really use such coarse language, but according to to other "govvies" that I know, they do use it. My father enjoyed it, my brother, sister-in-law and sister all fell asleep and my mother busied herself with the rolls, only occasionally complaining about the language from upstairs.

Learning to ride a bike

Since the accident my only mode of transportation has been my beach cruiser that I've had since I was eleven. It is hunter green, and if I wasn't so lazy I would find a picture of it, or take one, to post.

I quite like riding my bike. I mean, I'm getting exercise, I'm going where I want to (for the most part), I'm not spending all my tips on gas, etc. The only part I don't love it the sweat. I'm okay with being sweaty, but not when I get to Borders or my chiropractic appointment, or work. Thankfully there are these things called "deodorant" and "body spray" that are small enough to carry with me everywhere. So, smelliness can generally be avoided.

Last week I rode from my house to Moe's on Hoadly Rd. I have no idea what that amounts to in miles. I didn't plan on going there, I was just in a bad mood and needed to clear my head (something I've needed to do a lot lately) and where I would usually go for a drive, I went for a ride. It was refreshing and wonderful. Yeah, it took about three times as long to get there as it usually would via car, but I felt awesome afterwards.

My biggest problem with not having a car at my constant disposal was the sense of freedom I thought I'd lost. But there's a completely different sense of independence that comes with riding a bike. It's all about you. You and the machine, but not a machine that your externally operating, a machine that you become a part of. You also become much more aware of your surroundings. I think I've developed a greater appreciation for my body. It's not something that I often think about. But, I have this awesome machine and when it's used, it can do anything. And then when you combine it with another machine, it's literally awe-some.

I wish we had bike lanes or more sidewalks, or wider shoulders, something. Lake Ridge is not very bike friendly. I've had quite a few people yell out of the SUV's for me to get off the road. But I'm not "in" the road. I'm on the shoulder, usually. I'm only in the right lane if there aren't any other options, and it's not like they can't see me. I mean, I'm not in their way, I'm not slowing them down. Perhaps if they knew what I know, they wouldn't be so quick to make an ass of themselves.

Today after my chiropractic appointment I dropped off some movies, went to the bank, and made a stop at our local bike shop. They are all in the same shopping center, how convenient! (so much more so than Manassas) And all within a ten minute bike ride away! I bought myself one of those obnoxious flashing lights, some lube and a rear-view mirror (to attach to my handlebar). I also ordered a basket for the back of my bike. I'm most excited about this. Hopefully it will mean less hauling junk in my backpack, or at least a lighter load.

Dude, if you don't have a bike, you should get one.

Trying so hard not to flip the bird

People in Manassas do not know how to drive. Everyone here goes the speed limit, takes their time, looks both ways...I am of the understanding that if it takes longer than half an hour to get somewhere it's really not that pressing. Actually, believe it or not I am about to praise my little town of Lake Ridge, in Lake Ridge everything (except for D.C.) is within a fifteen minute radius. I have no idea what that amounts to in miles, but I do know that if this family lived in there instead of Manassas I would not have to drive their kids to a pool half an hour away.

When driving down Liberia one gets the impression that everything is right there, but it's not. It's far away, outside of a fifteen minute radius. And when you see the that the speed limit is 35 mph you (being me, that girl that always goes at least ten over the speed limit everywhere else just fine) assume that you can go 45, but that person in front of you is actually going 35 and so is the person next to them, forming a blockade, forcing you to go 35! AGH!

What is wrong with these people!? Don't they understand that this is technically part of Northern Virginia? Don't they know that you're expected to be in a hurry all the time? That it's part of living in this area? Apparently they didn't get the memo.

It's really quite a shame that I don't appreciate Manassas more, the Old Town is quaint, but not nearly as wonderful as Old Town Alexandria, and I can get there in the same amount of time, if not faster via I95. I love 95. It allows me to go places fast, without worrying (too much) about the possibility of getting a ticket because while I'm going 75 (okay, 80) the person next to me is going the same, if not faster, especially if they're on a crotch rocket.

Guys, Manassas isn't dead, its got a good number of people, lots of strip-malls, car dealerships, etc. the usual stuff you find in the suburbs, unfortunately it's the fact that they are not close to 95 that allows them to maintain that more rural feel. It has something to with their being closer to 66, I'm sure of it, and I want it to stop.