memoir

Since 4^th Grade, I remember my first visit to New York City. It was an experience like no other. In a matter of a few days I had decided which city I wanted to move to when I grew up. After our trip, whenever the topic of vacation came up, New York was always our first choice. In 6^th Grade, my mom received an e-mail from Ticketmaster for a special access code to buy tickets for Michael Jackson’s special concert series at Madison Square Garden, My mother had always wanted to see him perform, yet up to this point had not had the chance. It was decided, my mom bought tickets for the second show, September 10^th, 2001.

The week before we where to leave for New York, my mom was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia. There was no way for her to go to the concert. We needed to find someone to take the now extra three tickets, to this once in a lifetime performance. My parents invited family friends to take the tickets. The trip became a “fathers trip” because it was my dad, my brother, and my two friends and their father. It was there first time to New York.

The concert was one I'll never forget; it was Michael Jackson’s last concert. The next morning, we were leaving our hotel in Times Square and heading to LaGuardia airport in Queens, when my brother called my aunt who lived on the Lower East Side. My brother was describing the concert, when he heard a loud explosion over the phone. My aunt wasn’t sure what had happened. She went outside to find one of the Twin Towers on fire. We weren’t sure what had happened; so, all six of us jumped in a cab and left Manhattan for Queens. From the cab, you could see both of the towers on fire. They sky around it was filled with smoke and debris.

When we went inside the airport, the TV screens in the lobby were showing live footage, the second tower was hit. In a matter of a minute SWAT quickly evacuated the airport. We caught a bus to Hertz. When we arrived, there were only five people in front of us. We needed to rent a car and drive from New York back to Fort Lauderdale. When it was our turn, the associate told us we could not take the car to Florida. My dad responded with, “I’m taking it to Florida, get me your manager.” She went to the back to get her manager. My father told him that under the current situation, he was going to rent a car and drive back home. The manager knew he could not stop us; the city was under attack.

When we left, there was a line of nearly one hundred people in line. We were lucky to jump on the bus right away when we left the airport, an hour earlier. The car we rented was a silver Dodge Caravan, a staple car in terms of rental cars. We tried to make our way out of the city, by then we were driving around Queens, looking to get to the Bronx, then to New Jersey. We stopped at a Burger King because almost all of us hadn’t eaten since we left our hotel. After lunch, we went inside the next-door Radio Shack. Everyone in the store was gathered around the many TVs on the wall, watching as the towers began to collapse.

On the radio, they announced that one of the bridges from Queens to the Bronx was opening up. This was good news, the island of Manhattan was evacuated and all the bridges were closed. We headed towards the bridge, but what we didn’t know was, so was everyone else. We sat in traffic for three hours waiting to move no more than an inch. People were outside of the cars, with their cars turned off. It was a nice September day. I had to go to the restroom by this time, so I went up hill to the side of the road near some bushes, so I could urinate. It was different from peeing on the side of the road in Florida because it was uphill, where in Florida you walk down a bit.

We made it to New Jersey. From the highway, you could see the smoke. Police, ambulance, and fire truck sped past, going the other direction. I would sit and count them as they went by; the number was over a hundred. Once in New Jersey, we finally had reception and could call my mother to tell her we where alive and well. The states seemed to just fly by. Before I knew it, it was nighttime and we where in DC. To keep myself busy, I played with my candy button maker I had purchased at FAO Schwartz, near Central Park. It was around 3AM when we crossed the border to North Carolina. My dad decided it would be safer to just grab something to eat and sleep for a couple hours. We went to Cracker Barrel. It was the first and last time I will ever go to the Cracker Barrel. Our waitress was on some type of controlled substance because she was way to happy to be serving us dinner at 4AM.

We woke up early and went back on the road. The Carolinas passed, but the trip from Georgia to home seem to take just as long as it did to drive threw 5 states the day before. But after a full day of driving, we made it home around midnight. I don’t thing I ever missed seeing my house as much as did at that very moment.

I often think about this trip I had. It was the first and last time I’d see Michael Jackson and it happen to be his last concert in front of an audience. In a matter of hours, my view of the world changed. Before this I didn’t know what terrorists were or why they hated us. What did we do to them? I learned that Afghanistan was a country and they had an evil government called the Taliban. I know more now about the situation, than I do then. I learned that they did not start this. We started this. People in other countries hate Americans. If you asked me then, if I hated people in other countries that I didn’t know, I’d tell you “no.” I was a kid raised in the 90s, a time of peace treaties, strong economies, and a time where I could go wait in the terminal to pick my mom up at the airport. I learned quickly, that the world wasn’t what it seemed to be.