As I stuffed my face full of chicken, I caught the back end of a movie on cable tonight - United 93...or Flight 93. I can't remember the exact name now. You remember the infamous 9/11 and that fourth plane that never reached its target? Well that's what this movie was about - that plane, the subsequent hijacking, and the revolt of the passengers to arrest control of the plane and bring the hijacker terrorists down. Heard good things about the movie but I didn't see enough if it to commit to any judgements. I did catch it in time to see the climactic bit though - a *spoiler alert* gung-ho charge up the plane aisle by the desperate passengers, armed with one of those big, heavy food carts, multiple cans of soft drink, a couple of pots full of boiling hot water, and a fire hydrant. MacGyver would've been proud. Assuming the movie was factual, it was a sombre display of both desperation and heroism.
Hard to believe the whole thing was almost a decade ago. But even now, when pictures of the towers begin to crumble down, that oh so surrealistic cringe inside still happens a little. So many points are made about why so much emphasis is placed on this event, when scores more people die around the world for equally needless, yet tragically more preventable things. Yet this is the event that we all relate with more. It's certainly one of those "what were you doing when...?" moments. I was one of those that didn't catch the event before going to bed. I remember waking up to Dad urging me out of bed with apocalyptic predictions of "World War 3 might be happening". Then I trudged down to the living room half asleep thinking he was an idiot, and the first thing I see on the screen is a replay of the plane crashing into the building, followed by the thought of What...the...f$*k?! Then at school later on that day, the overflowing surrealism in everyone was apparent. I honestly can't remember anything funny, or anyone laughing at all that day. There was one topic of discussion, and only one. I along with a couple of others brought a little radio to school and at lunch would stick the headphones in and listen to the news to hear what's going on. It was just about the only time I'd voluntarily tuned in to an AM station. The school principle went on about the possibility of some students eventually going to war, and the apparent crying of a couple of year 7 boys later on that day. Apparently at our sister school, tears were flowing like fountains there.
As someone said either on the radio or the TV that day, "go home, just go home. Hug your kids. Hug your wife or husband. Hug your family."
