Thursday, September 13, 2001

Watching a nightmare unfold
Washington intern experiences tragedy first-hand at ground zero
by Brian Casebolt
Skiff Staff

In light of the many events Tuesday, I am compelled to write home about the tragedies now facing our nation. The emotions currently sweeping the United States are from an era we as students have only learned from history books.

Tuesday morning, I traveled to work on the D.C. Metro Subway. The day was cool and crisp. The day was like any other.

I entered my office after a casual walk across Pennsylvania Avenue. The White House easily visible. I was at work earlier than usual and ready for the typical day.
From that moment, the day turned for the worst.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and was checking my e-mail when a co-worker shouted from another office, “Turn on the television, a plane just hit the World Trade Center.”

We watched in awe.

A gaping hole was screaming with fire from the top of the north tower of the World Trade Center. Calls began flooding the office, and we continued to watch in wonder of what had occurred.

A co-worker sat in panic; as she remained glued to the news coverage, her grimace was indelibly sketched in my mind.

Abruptly she asked, “Is that tower one or tower two? My dad and brother-in-law are in tower two.”

None of us had the answer, and as we scrambled to contact our information services to learn which tower it was, she received a call from her father.

Tower one had been hit, and her father was safe.

Her father explained they were vacating the building, but the traffic of workers down the stairs and elevators was unbearable, so her father would wait until the mass exodus thinned.

She got off the phone comforted, happy to have spoken with her father. We continued to watch MSNBC and local coverage. She was smiling and telling us about the conversation with her father; a massive weight of doubt had been lifted from her shoulders.

She went up to the television screen and was telling us what her father was seeing.
Pointing at the middle of the south tower, she said, “His view of the explosion is probably right there, that is where he works.”

BOOM! At the very spot she was pointing, an explosion tore through the second tower. She pulled her hand away from the television and to her chest as if the explosion came out of the screen and burned her finger.

She surveyed the room in shock and ran back to her office in absolute disbelief. We were all dumb struck.

This was ridiculous. We are under attack. We helplessly watched, as did everyone else. What was to come in the next minutes and hours?

People were still entering the office, with naive looks on their faces. Many still commuting to work did not know about the horror story developing in New York City.

Then it hit us at 9:45 a.m.

We were on high alert due to the unfolding thriller on television, and now a plane had crashed into the Pentagon, the heart of our military forces.

We, as a country, had been knocked down and demoralized by the wretched display in New York City, and now they were attacking our ability to fight, in the U.S. capital. What cowards, how dare they do this to us.

Once again, what was going on? Infinitely growing questions and no answers to calm us. Who was doing this? Why were they doing it?

Why?

I was watching a movie, a very horrible movie. No, this was real. What was I thinking?

The fire on television, the falling buildings, the blood, none of this was fake.

Real people were dead and dying. The nervousness hit my stomach with wrenching pains. It felt as though I had been holding my breath for hours.

I called my mom and was bombarded by e-mails and instant messages inquiring of my safety.

I got a call from my internship program. They told me to evacuate the city immediately.
But how could I? The subway system was locked down and the streets looked like parking lots. I could not get anywhere.

The situation nauseated me. It was straight out of a movie. People scurried to the bank and were withdrawing large amounts of cash. Others ran into convenience stores and purchased as many nonperishable items that they could carry.

No one knew how long we would be stuck in the District of Columbia. This ghastly movie needed to end. Reality was too much to handle.

I had to stay busy. I got in touch with everyone in D.C. I knew; I e-mailed and called as many people back home in Fort Worth as possible.

I was alive and well, yet this city was going into hysterics. The country was hysterical.
This was not a crime against Washington and New York City.

This was attack against America. This was an attack against freedom. This was an attack on the foundation of rights that each citizen of the United States gravitates to.

The last few weeks have taken me away from the town where I grew up and the school I attend. Although homesick at times, I was so excited to be in Washington.

Now a new perspective is added. This city and this country sometimes forgets how incredible a people we are. Although we have been badly bruised, we will heal.

Brian Casebolt is a senior political science major from Houston. This fall he is participating in the TCU political science internship program in Washington D.C. He can be contacted at (w.b.casebolt@student.tcu.edu).