I remember

Whenever I'm watching TV and I come across a movie, flashback or documentary about 9/11, I always feel uneasy. Not (just) because it's hard to watch - even though I always tear up, without fail - but because part of me feels like a peeping Tom, looking in on someone else's pain. I feel like an intruder. Although the events on September 11, 2001 and the years after that have had an impact on the entire world and not just America, no-one attacked my family, my home or my country that day. In a way, it's none of my business.

When Sarah and I were at Ground Zero last year, there were some people trying to sell photo books and other memorabilia of the attacks. Our reaction to them were opposite and illustrating to the difference in nationality: Sarah just basically told them "No", when they came up to us with a particularly horrific photo held out and they tried to start a conversation on it. I stopped walking and engaged in the conversation initially (until Sarah helped me out). Sarah was absolutely right to politely keep them at distance; they were trying to make a profit on something that shouldn't be capitalized. But me? I felt such a disaster tourist already, like it wasn't my place to be on the corner of that black day in history anyway, I couldn't ignore them. Like it would be rude to immediately tell them "No", like that would be equal to ignoring the entire thing. When in fact, looking back... Saying 'No' would have been the most respectful thing.

So it's with humility and that same sense of embarrassment that I write down my own September 11, 2001. A day that was pretty ordinary until 3.15 PM (9.15 EST) and didn't get anywhere past "things that make you go hm" until 5 PM (11 EST), and that had no effect whatsoever on my life compared to millions of others on the other side of that great big pond. But still, here it goes:

Half a year earlier I had finally made my first trip to the country I had always been so curious about. I was supposed to go to South Carolina to visit my American crush, but after he had ended things by telling me to download Say Goodbye by some band I had never heard of ("It'll tell you how I feel about you"), I had just told him where he could put it and booked a flight to Miami instead. As soon as I got off the plane, I fell in love and knew I had found a second home. Yes, even in Miami.

Following the Say Goodbye download, I had purchased Live @ Luther College in Utrecht, raided the music store in Miami and subsequently had subscribed to the nancies e-mail list, in search of people I could talk to about this band that apparently had created the song to end all songs, among an incredible catalogue of other cool stuff.

So my life was this: get up early in my old dorm-room in Utrecht, check e-mail on my monster of a laptop hooked up to an ISDN connection, supposedly for work but mostly to goof around with the late night nancies, get to work, worked very hard while dreaming of boys, an apartment and the States, get home late and either watch TV while keeping an eye on nancies and dl-ing new music or hang out with friends. My rent was laughable, and I was saving up quickly for all the other trips I was dying to make - the plan to visit all the states had already been born.

It was just another Tuesday morning in that routine when I drove down to the south of the Netherlands, to the city Maastricht to be exact. I had a long meeting about things that I can't remember for the life of me now. I had a job as Business Development Executive at an international ICT company, which had come with a new best friend: Black Betty. Black Betty was a black 2000 Alfa Romeo 2.0 Twin Spark and I loved driving long distances, just because of her.

It must have been about 2.30 PM when I got out of the meeting, into my car and started the drive back. And immediately got stuck in the traffic jam from hell. We were in a complete stand still. So I pulled my CD case from under the passenger seat and popped in a "new" find (probably Before These Crowded Streets) and effectively turned off the radio. Shortly after 3.15 PM, people started to get out of their cars and talked to each other. Me? I honestly thought that they must know each other and had only just noticed the other. But when more people abandoned their vehicles, I gathered people in the south must be used to these infamous traffic jams and this was their way to pass the time. Only for a short minute I figured something must have happened, and I turned on the radio. Coincidently, they were playing a song just then and I turned back to the CD I was playing. As soon as the traffic jam started to thin out and we were driving again, I forgot the whole thing. Sometimes, I wonder how dense I really am. Seriously.

When I came home, it was nearly 5 PM. I was exhausted and cranky and quickly made something to eat. Turned on the old laptop and worked through my e-mail, starting with nancies of course. This is how I finally found out something was terribly wrong:

--------------------
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001 09:36:47

who else thought:

a man
drives a plane
into the
chrysler building

when they heard about what went on this morning?

yeah, it's sad, but that's the first thing that popped into my head.
----------------------

Next there was an off list message asking me "Where the hell are you? I need you to check your local news and tell me about the reaction in the rest of the world". And finally, I turned on the TV.

You know how different it is when a disaster, no matter how horrible, takes place far away instead of 'right here', right? So, I wasn't immediately scared and the one person I knew in New York had already posted so I didn't worry about him. I just sat there, slack jawed. Until they showed the collapse of the towers. Then, I started to cry. Maybe because I had already fallen in love with the country. Maybe because I was interacting with many cool Americans daily, and had befriended a few already. Maybe because the image of 110 floors filled with people crashing down was just overwhelming in general. Maybe because I kept thinking how my boss was always telling me it was impossible to get lost in New York because there were always these two huge landmarks to guide you and now they were gone. Probably all of the above.

When they showed the jumpers, I got pissed. When they started giving details on the attack and the word Jihad got thrown into the mix, I got a faint feeling. Meanwhile, I kept e-mailing back and forth with my off-list American friend and contributed minimally to the list; after all - this wasn't my terror, it was theirs.

I guess that urge to keep a respectful distance stayed with me over the weeks, no matter how absolutely horrified I was myself. I saw the list turn into a religious debate (including a girl who was convinced that 'this is America's punishment for doing wrong by the Palestinians'), posers turn into scared children, goofs turn absolutely quiet back to painfully 'funny'. My former American crush suddenly contacted me to let me know I could forget all about his past passionate rants about how he could never understand how that idiot Bush got elected; now, he was standing firmly behind the man, behind his country. Me? I just figured that I didn't and hoped that I would never need to know what my reaction would be like.

On 9/12, I had an early weekly meeting at the office. My co-workers wanted to have a discussion on what would be the right way to pay our respect to one of our clients that used to have an office in the WTC. Not because they wanted to do right by their fellow human beings, but because they wanted to close a new sale. It was then and there that I suddenly knew I had to get out of sales. I was beyond disgusted.
So where I was silent towards my American friends and 'online acquaintances', I got pretty loud whenever some ignorant bastard would dare to start a debate on the whole thing over here. Because trust me, it got bad. Up to the point where people claimed it was a good thing 'those trigger happy retards finally got their asses kicked'. I know there was a lot of rhetoric bullshit to be heard in the States in that time (anyone remember Rev. Falwell?), but I have never heard so many seemingly intelligent Europeans crap out the most profound stupidities in my life.

In the year following 9/11, I went back to the States three times. The first time, the thing I noticed most were the flags. They were everywhere. It made me feel like the outsider I was. I kept my mouth shut whenever 'the topic' was graced and stayed shy about it. The second time, I met some Freaks (another DMB mailing list) for the first time - both liberals and conservatives, jammed into one camp site. Their debates were interesting and polite. I just kept quiet. Even when the only other non-Freak started yelling at me that he was proud of his country after I uneasily tried to answer his question if 'Europe' was 'against' the USA. Everyone else that was present apologized for his behavior (except for that one twit who will not be named, for other reasons). Again, I didn't say anything. Not my place

The third time, I went to the Gorge '02 run for my first DMB experience. After, I flew down to San Francisco. Where I still was on 9/11/02. And I witnessed again why I love Americans so much. There was no hoorah, no bombastic display of righteousness, no false sentiment. Sure, the TV was covering the memorial at Ground Zero, rightfully so. But on the streets, the overabundance of American pride 'Europe' had warned me I would encounter on that day, was missing. I went down to Golden Gate Park and sat in the grass and watched people throw frisbees, walk their dogs, read, play guitar and throw footballs. A preppy college guy came up to me and talked to me for a bit. I hesitantly asked how he felt on and about this day. He casually lifted his shoulders and told me that for him, this was his best way to remember those who had died the year prior: by living life.

My preppy stranger had just summed up why I love the United States.

It was there and then that I followed his example and became my big mouthed, opinionated self again, on both sides of the pond.

Just ask Coluzzi ;).