Tuesday, September 11, 2001

Nothing can prepare people for tragedy
By Melissa DeLoach
Skiff Staff

What started out as a normal day, Tuesday was far from it.

While I rushed to finish drying my hair while drinking orange juice, my eye caught a glimpse on the news of the worst thing I think I’ve ever seen in my life. A plane crashed into the side of the World Trade Center in New York City.

Watching the scenes of Manhattan, my mouth dropped as I learned what had just happened. As if I was in a trance, my body froze and my hair dryer was left blowing my Washington Post through the room.

I couldn’t believe it. It looked like a movie. It’s like “Independence Day” and Will Smith had not yet made his entrance, or like one of those A&E documentaries on people who demolish buildings. But it was real.

Oblivious to the fact that my roommate was still asleep, I turned up the volume and didn’t blink. From afar, she asked me what was going on.

I snapped back at her that a plane just crashed in the World Trade Center and word is it’s a terrorist attack.

“Where at?” she asked, as if from Mars. I told her New York City, quickly learning that there is more than one office.

A few minutes later one of my classmates barged in, asking me if I wanted to join him at the National Mall and see how things were going. Was he crazy?

Of course not. Why would I go out to the Mall when I didn’t know what was going on at the White House, a few miles away, nor at the Pentagon, where moments before NBC reported the ground had shook?

We had class in 30 minutes and were scheduled to visit the Newseum in Arlington, W.Va., not far from the Pentagon.

I wasn’t scared. The events were just scary.

My phone was ringing off the hook and I hadn’t a moments peace until now to evaluate the days events.

See, I look out my window and it looks like a normal sunny day. From 8:45 a.m. when the first plane crashed in the World Trade Center to 9:43 a.m. when the Pentagon was hit, the scenery outside my window remained the same. It still does.

Yet, I look on TV and it looks like a war zone of sorts. I can’t leave because the school and the Secret Servicehave advised us to remain on campus.

We have to show our student identification cards whenever we enter a different building.

Security is so highthat my resident assistant is continually doing head counts.

Things of this nature just don’t happen in America. I’ve listened to my parents tell me through the years what it was like to live through the Vietnam War and in fear of a nuclear war. My grandpa has told me about Pearl Harbor.

Oklahoma City. Columbine. Wedgwood.

Nothing prepares you for tragedies like these.

Most, like me, resisted and repeated that things like that don’t really happen because they didn’t occur in my backyard.

Today, though, I am in the midst of a national tragedy.

I feel like a prisoner.

Since before noon I have been “quarantined.” I cannot leave. And although I don’t want to leave, I’m feeling a bit uneasy because I just don’t know what is going on and my window and television are playing mind games with me.

What is scary is that in less than a month thousands of people will gather in Washington, to protest the International Monetary Fund/World Bank meeting. With the feel of uneasiness and fear across this campus, city and nation, the protest will just heighten the current situation.

Melissa DeLoach is a senior news-editorial major from Waco. She is studying this semester at American University as part of the Washington Semester program in journalism and can be reached at (m.d.deloach@student.tcu.edu).