I had just arrived at my art history class at Harford Community College on Sept. 11, 2001. I remember always thinking how odd that date looked when you wrote it on a paper for class: 9/11
Those numbers would never look the same again.
As I got ready for class—in my first month of college—I sat with Rob Guerreri, one of my teammates from the Harford Owls baseball team. Another member of class alerted our teacher about something to do with a plane hitting a tower. That's all I heard as the teacher gasped.
I thought maybe a flight had clipped the air traffic control tower at BWI.
Class went on as if nothing happened—I guess the gasp from the professor was a sign of shock that would play out over the next hour of class.
It was only after I exited Havre de Grace Hall and headed toward my next class when I saw teammate Shaun Poulin sitting on a bench outside Bel Air Hall. He told me the details.
Class would be cancelled for the rest of the day.
I spent the drive home—Route 22 to Aldino Road to my parents house in Foxridge—flipping the radio stations looking for news. I remember somewhere on Aldino Road hearing the name "bin Laden" for the first time.
The rest was a blur. I remember watching a ton of television that day.
I recall the shooting at Columbine in similar fashion—spending the day glued to the television, but all the details after the initial report became a blur.
The emotions ran the gamut.
While many memories escape our minds after a few days, hours or minutes, I still remember the exact details, and where I was, when I heard about the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.