I am sleeping on my dorm bed, nestled deep in my comforter. My roommate Natasha is also asleep. It is a typical morning on the campus of USC, until we are awakened by the ring of Natasha’s phone. It is her mother, telling us to turn on the television and watch the news. “Something bad happened,” Natasha says to me, getting out of bed to look for the remote control.
It is September 11, 2001, and we stand in our pajamas in silence as we see images of airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center. Slowly throughout the day, the news reports trickle in. Deaths. Highjacking. Terrorism. National security. Everyone in the dorm is calling home. New York natives are checking in with loved ones.
There was a chilling change in the air that morning, as an entire nation was awakened from a comfortable sleep into a new reality.
It is September 11, 2001, and we stand in our pajamas in silence as we see images of airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center. Slowly throughout the day, the news reports trickle in. Deaths. Highjacking. Terrorism. National security. Everyone in the dorm is calling home. New York natives are checking in with loved ones.
There was a chilling change in the air that morning, as an entire nation was awakened from a comfortable sleep into a new reality.
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