“… Port Authority of New York/New Jersey … massive loss of life …,” interrupted radio broadcast heard in the basement of Gilman Hall, where I was hoping to hit

“… Port Authority of New York/New Jersey … massive loss of life …,” interrupted radio broadcast heard in the basement of Gilman Hall, where I was hoping to hit used copies of the books for first semester senior year at Johns Hopkins. I initially thought that a ferry had capsized. Crowding around the workstations in the CS lab, refreshing CNN and the Washington Post, trying to get anything to load… and finding out that the Pentagon had been hit, too… this wasn’t just a tragic accident. Classes cancelled (that practically never happened), advised to leave campus over intercoms I didn’t know they had, a rather full midday service at the Episcopalian cathedral north of campus. Gathering at the friends who had a big screen and cable, unusually quiet and free of alcohol, rewatching the unthinkable. Fark proved to be surprisingly useful for discovering the awful details that the overwhelmed news sites couldn’t serve up. Walking near towards Union Memorial hospital with my closest guy friend, seeing if they wanted our blood donations (turned out to be far fewer critically injured survivors than feared/hoped), dreading that our country would do something impulsively stupid in response (it wasn’t impulsive, but oh boy was it stupid), wondering what this would mean for our futures (personally and generally). It is now almost exactly half a lifetime ago for me.