9/11 doesn't seem all that long ago but it happened before the average undergrad was born. The typical grad student has no memory of it. What I'm saying is I got old fast.

I'm not sure what that day felt like to someone who lived through, say, the '60s. But as a 1980-born North American, it was an earth-shattering event. People in my generation and part of the world grew up in the most peaceful era in human history.

Seeing the towers fall - I watched the first tower fall as the news anchor kept talking (no one on the tv notice for a good 20 seconds that an entire building had just vanished in a ball of smoke) - you immediately knew this was a seismic historical moment.

Once they were reporting the Pentagon was on fire and other planes were likely hikacked, you wondered if World War 3 was coming. That specific unease didn't last very long. But it was surreal as hell.

And four days later (I think), when flights resumed, every time you heard a plane you looked up. That feeling took a couple of days to go away too. Two fruitless wars and endless airport security theatre later I think we forget what the specific day felt like sometimes.

For some reason, I went to my 11:30am class that day, peeling myself away from the TV. It was the start of 3rd year undergrad. It was a Contemporary Political Theory class at Western. Prof. Janara came in and said "I don't think any of us is up for class today" and dismissed us.

My girlfriend at the time, a biochem major, had all of her classes. STEM people don't give a fuck about the real world. ;)

So I went over to The Gazette offices - the student paper at Western. I had recently begun as a staff writer. @AaronWherry was the editor-in-chief. The office was packed, and abuzz. Stories were already assigned, so I wasn't working, just soaking more in.

After that my memory of the day is hazy. I'm sure I spoke with my parents that evening. But the hours from about 9:30am, when newcasts broke into regular programming, until the early afternoon are seared into my memory forever.