Only Time

So, it's that time of the year again, where we all dig out the Enya CD and tell stories about when "it" happened. And since I didn't divulge my Story before...
The following is a transcript of an network chat between me and an ex-colleague of mine (before I went to university, I've been a trainee for Volkswagen for two years.), started around 14.40 MEST(8.40 EDT), September 11, 2001.

Satyria: I'm boooooooored. Do something.
Teshik: Hm. I'm working at the moment. Does that count?
S: Fine. Do something that entertains me. Precise enough?
T: Okay. *juggles two elephants, the unugunu, his former boss and two chainsaws, while only using his left elbow*
S: This would be far better if I could see you doing this. Not that I won't believe you...
T: Me? I Liar? Blasphemy ;)
T: All you have to do is come over here...
S: Yeah, only 2 kilometers down the Mittelstrasse. (The Volkswagen factory is reaaaaally big, and we were working in different departments in different parts of it at that time.) Thanks, but no thanks. I only have a t-shirt on, and it's freezing today.
T: Only a t-shirt, huh? I bet your colleagues are pleased. But what does your boyfriend think about your work attire?
S: Asshole.
T: >>:-))
S: You know it's hot over here. And I didn't think it's be that cold today.
T: Yet another reason to come over here. My colleagues are diehard fresh-air fanatics, keeping the window open even when its snowing, I think. thank god I leave here in october.
S: Teaser. At least you have windows. I am surrounded by *boxes*.
T: But at least you have a radio. My only distraction the line monkeys screaming at me why their pay is too low. (I was sitting in a Personal Service Center. But we had nothing at all to do with their paychecks)
S: Maybe you should give them Carestin's (trainee in Finances) email address.
T: So that she drives *another* beetle against the wall from the stress? Better not ;-)
S: *lol*
S: Woah. They just said in the news a plane crashed in New York. Which one is the World Trade Center?
T: Uhhh...I think it's the old one, with the needle at the top. (means the Empire State building)
S: You mean that thing where the Kingpin lives in the new Spiderman cartoon? (means the Chrysler Tower)
T: Maybe. I dunno. Did the building collapse?
S: They didn't say.
S: Hey, wanna meet in the city today? I wanna buy a cell phone today.
T: So you finally don't have to carry around that foldable Telephone booth anymore?
S: Yeah. Wanna go? I'll be on the parking lot in about twenty minutes.
T: You leave early *again*?
T: Sorry, can't go. Only if you wait until I get out of the Hospital.
S: ???
S: I thought your grandma died two weeks ago? (Sorry for reminding you)
T: Yeah. But now, it's my dad. Guess what it could be.
S: Oh god. You still have relatives left?
S: ...Cancer?
T: Yeah, could be stomach cancer. He's there since Friday. Today, they've made some stomach camera thing, and can tell us what's what.
S: Shit. I hope it's not.
T: Me too. Or Cancer really IS contagious. (in 2000 and '01, I had lost 7 family members. 5 of them because of cancer.)
S: I really wish him the best.
S: I'm leaving in five minutes (it's 15.10 now). How long do you want to stay?
T: *Want*? Until about 7.35 am. Have to ? I think up till four. Still gotta finish those bloody attendance statistics today.
S: Wow. They just said a second plane flew into the *same building*
T: What?
S: Yeah, on the other side.
T: No way. You're setting me up again. (According to Satyria, Pope John Paul II. died last August. Twice. So now, I am believing she just shitted me with these planes)
S: No, really.
T: No way in Hell. I can see one plane crashing there, but *two*? Either they're reporting the same plane, or you're trying to get me again.
S: Then don't believe me. Ass.
T: Whatever. I believe you as soon as I see it on the news. Not a minute earlier.
S: I'm leaving now. Ciao.
S: And there are TWO planes.
T: I said, whatever. Who cares if New York burns...

Yup. I really wrote that. Boy, was I sorry about that later.
In any case, I finished my work around 15.55, and drove the familiar route Workplace-Hospital (My grandma had been in and out of the Hospital about every other week, so that was part of my afternoon routine back then) to visit my dad. I was kinda surprised not to see him in the cafeteria, since he's a near-chain-smoker and coffee-fanatic. The cafeteria was QUITE empty that day, but this didn't occur to me until later. I found my dad and my mom in his room, watching TV.
The first thing I catched was footage of the South Tower, collapsing. Finally it hit me how it was possible for two planes to hit the same building. It happened on purpose.

Lord, sometimes, each and every person on this sick planet deserves to rot in hell.
"Who cares if New York burns..."
Oopsie.
Reserve a cozy place for me, Mr Satan.

We simply stared at the footage of the collapsing tower (had happened about 15 minutes ago, my parents saw it live on TV) and the second plane crash (the footage of the first crash wasn't available yet), and the scene of those five-and-a-half palestinien women who were celebrating and which was sold to us as "cheering all over the arabian world" (Those people probably didn't even know what happened there). My cousin arrived, as clueless as I've been, and we all caught live the collapse of Tower Number Two.

A little later, my dad's roommate insisted to switch Channels because he didn't wan't to miss Charmed (Yep, you read that correctly. Charmed. I shit you not). And since the doctors postponed my dads diagnoses until tomorrow, we said goodbye and headed home. And my mom and I started the first of the soon traditional Terror Watch (every major terror attack since, Mom and I were home somehow, glued to the television screen.) Debating about how many of those 50'000 people were actually dead. Hearing about that other crashed plane, and the attack on the Pentagon. Those five-and-a-half palestinians celebrating footage, over and over again. Being almost certain the Americans will now start the 3rd World War, since the last time they had a war site on their own land, they ultimately answered with nuclear bombs.
Suddenly, around 7 pm, my mom remembered something. "Oh my God. Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" - "What what WHAT?" - "Where's that telephone number?!" - "What are you talking about?" - "Hans and Ingrid (Hans is my godfather, Ingrid, his wife, is Moms best friend since grade school) ! The post card!
Hans and Ingrid were on a holiday trip. The post card had arrived two days ago, from Canada. They were touring first through Canada, then the Northern States, and they wanted to finish the trip in the USA...Sightseeing in New York.
I felt so sick. As if the death of 50'000 people, my grandma's death, the sword of Damocles over my dad's head and the impending Nuclear Winter wasn't bad enough, I also had unwittingly seen my aunt's and uncle's death, live on Television?
So, we got out their telephone number. No reply. Cell Phone? Dude, it's 2001. Cell phones are for businessmen and trendy rich young people only. Then, we dug out their parents number. After my mother calmed down enough, she called them, and was very relieved to hear the two arrived this morning, and were probably sleeping the whole day. (We later found out they really had stood on the top of the World Trade Center, on September 7, 2001. Unfortunately, no memento of the Ages, since their camera broke that day.)
After digesting that shock and the relief over them being safe, we continued watching until midnight. After all, both of us had to get up on 6 am next morning.

I lay a while in bed, wide awake, philosophizing. That I should better keep my pie-hole shut when thinking about burning mega-metropolices. If I would ever get out of the stupid black clothes,(It's not very common anymore, but if someone out of your family dies, you don't only wear black at the funeral, but later on as well, up to a year if you were especially close. We still follow that tradition.) since it seems I've worn nothing else the past months. If the Americans really are pissed enough to start wars. If George W. Bush is stupid enough to push the Big Red Button.
And if the Apocalypse comes, why it didn't come two fucking years earlier, so I wouldn't had to have witnessed my uncles, my aunts, and my grandmothers slow, agonizing deaths?
--- Screw sleeping. I need a drink.

The next day, I came to work hungover and with probably enough residue alcohol in my system to start selling my blood as wine. Then again, no one didn't seem to care about trifle matters like that on September 12th, 2001.

---

Flash forward five years later. It turns out my Dad didn't have cancer, only a very bad stress-induced gastritis. I don't work at Volkswagen anymore, I went to university, so did Satyria. The Americans did get pissed, and they did start wars, but thankfully, nothing nuclear (yet). George W. Bush didn't push the Big Red Button, but created secret prisons and Patriot Acts instead, and many innocent citizens of the US and other states found themselves next to terrorist suspects, without rights, for six weeks in US prisons, or up to several years in Guantanamo Bay (still without knowing the reason they're imprisoned).

I don't drink anymore, but thinking back on days like this one, and especially my mood I had that day, I am sure longing for one right now. Happy September 11th, kids.