it’s about purity
driving up to new york on september 11th felt distinctly eerie. none of my fellow passengers seemed unduly stressed out. a few of them wore “i [heart] usa” buttons or t-shirts with flags, but quite possibly no more than normal in this day and age.
to avoid traffic, or something, we approached ny city via jersey city, which was a jumble of ethnicities you never see on television. women in saris, muslim men, a barefoot barelegged black baby running in circles while a couple watched from a porch, a few quickwalking youngish white folks but for the most part skin color ran the gamut from peanut butter to coca-cola.
stores boasted, Cheap _______ ! [nails, fish, shoes], some strictly in arabic.
i have to admit i held my breath while we crossed the bridge. i have to admit i thought, in the words of my predecessor, If i die, i die. i even may have thought it in hebrew, for extra kicks.
of course, nothing happened. i was glad to be getting off campus though. i wanted no part of any remembrance of the day, not leftist not rightist. for me it was enough to spend the day in class (normal) and travelling to new york (uneventful) and urge the arrival of september 12 as quickly as possible.
speaking of 12, here’s my review of thirteen. por favor, ignore the shittyass titling, courtesy of my editor who hates me.