A Thought-Provoking Fire Drill

Yesterday, the building I worked in had a scheduled fire drill. However, in an attempt to prevent distrupting the workday as much as possible, they ran the drill in 2 different waves. The lower level though 10th floor went in the morning, and then 11-19 had their drill in the afternoon. It wasn't that bad, and it gave us a nice excuse to walk outside and enjoy the sunshine for 20 minutes while the rest of the floors filed out of the building.

As we learn from a young age, during a fire drill or an actual emergency, the elevators won't be in operation, so the stairwells are the only available exit. As my coworkers and I followed the herd down the stairs, I couldn't help but think how different the atmosphere would be if it was an actual fire. The panic, the stress, the worry about loved ones or the important files we left in our desks.

Then I realized what the date was. September 10th. And that tomorrow [or now, today] would be September 11. I can't even begin to imagine the panic and adrenaline that people must have felt as they rushed down the stairs, not knowing if the World Trade Center or Pentagon was going to collapse on top of them at any minute. It's at that point in your life when you realize all the things that you worried about before -- the unpaid bills, that extra 10 pounds that you're REALLY going to lose this time, trying to get the kids to soccer practice -- become insignificant. I know that if I were in that position (and thank the Lord Almighty that I wasn't, and I didn't personally know anyone who was), I would be thinking of all the things I would do, if I just had one more day. The things I wouldn't worry about, the things that I would tell my loved ones, the things that I would have wished I had been able to do.

Nine-eleven. I don't think that even 50 years from now when this date comes, I will forget to take a moment and pray for those 2,993 people who died. The firement, police officers, EMTs, and civilians who lost their lives at the hand of terrorism and hate. The people who were left behind to deal with the loss, those who spent months of their lives at Ground Zero, shifting through the debris, dreading the moment when they would find a body part and have to tell yet another family that their loved one had perished. I won't forget that when I first heard of the attacks, I was listening to the radio and brushing my teeth, getting ready for school. I won't forget thinking, "Oh, a plane crashed. Even though that's awful, they happen all the time." (I didn't yet know that they had crashed into the WTC towers). I won't forget sitting in my Spanish classroom, watching the horror unfold on the news, and my teacher asking us how many believed a war would follow this event. I won't forget looking around the classroom, and seeing 95% of my classmates raise their hands, along with my own. Or the worry that the Hanford Nuclear Plant would be a potential target. Or the pictures in the newspaper the next day, showing the smoking towers, reading about the heroic passengers who forced the highjackers to crash their plane in a remote Pennsylvania field, or the "jumpers," who would have rather crashed into the pavement below than die from the smoke and flames engulfing their offices.

America will always remember 9/11/2001 as a variety of things: the day of the largest attack since Pearl Harbor, Patriot Day, or the eveny that started the War on Terror. While I too will remember it with these labels, I will also remember it as a day to reflect on my life, and how fragile it truly is. We will always remember those who lost their lives, and those they left behind. And what we can learn from it all -- we live in the most powerful, wonderful, free country in the world. And no act of terror will ever change that.