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I have to write a creative nonfiction story/essay for my English class. I have 5 classes remaining for my BS in Computer Science and this English 294 class is one of them. I hate this bull shit, I can't write for crap. I've been putting this creative writing class off forever and this is exactly why. I'll post it here and you can rip it apart if you like. I have to submit it by midnight tonight:
It was the first full week of class. I arrived early for my 8:30am calculus class and took my time getting there. After having previously been at UMBC and taken two years off of school to work, I decided I need to go back and finish my degree. The walk from the parking lot to the classroom at Catonsville Community College was not a short one. People walking everywhere, cars jostling for parking spots, everyone was always in a rush.
Last week we received our syllabus and an overview of the course and that was pretty much it. Today was the first day to get into the meat and potatoes of calculus. Twenty-five minutes into class there was a lot of activity outside the class room so the professor closed the door. No sooner did the door close an administrative personnel opened the door and advised us that all classes were canceled for the remainder of the day and we were to leave campus as soon as possible. “Wow, leave campus” I thought. That’s really odd, I wonder what is going on? I pack up my stuff and begin walking back to the car.
On the way back to the car, everyone seems to be running around campus in a panic. Non-stop cell phone chatter, groups of people talking, faces with looks of disbelief, shock, and anger. “What the hell is going on, what did I miss”? I pass by a group of guys talking and I overheard one of them, “One’s already hit the north tower and they say that two more plains are unaccounted for, they think the other two have been hijacked” he says. The first person I thought of was my father. He travels for business all the time and I prayed to God that he was not on one of these flights. I tried to call his office but all cell towers were busy, I received some automated message to try again later. I tried calling my parents house in New Jersey. Six attempts later I was able to call out, but got no answer. Tuesday’s my mother plays bridge so she wouldn’t have answered anyway.
I finally get back to my car, turn on the radio and start my drive back to Owings Mills from Catonsville. Interstate 695 was packed with cars. You could feel the tension even driving on the highway. All of my surroundings just felt heavy, like something was going to happen at any moment, but you didn’t know what. Even the radio DJ’s didn’t know what was going on. I was listening to Kirk, Mark, and Lopez on 98 Rock and it was complete chaos. Their radio announcements were them watching CNN and they reiterate what was going on. And then it happened…The Emergency Broadcast System message came on the radio, only this was not a test.
I don’t think I left my couch for three days after the 9/11 attacks. I was constantly watching CNN waiting to see what would happen next. How could this happen to the United States of America? We are the most powerful nation in the World, but an extremist terrorist group was able to give us a knockout punch. “Should I enlist in the Marines”? I thought. I think my mother would kill me first. I needed to do something, but what?
October 15, 2001, it only took a few weeks to pull everything together. With the help of my good friends and Baltimore Ravens players Chris Redman and Obafemi Ayanbadejo we organized a great event. The bar that I worked at, An Poitin Stil (pronounced put-CHEEN), hosted the event and it turned out better than I could have imagined. With the help of Femi and Chris we got members of the team to come and “guest bartend” for the night. All tips received would be donated to the American Red Cross, it was brilliant and best of all, I thought of it!
All the big names showed up, Ray Lewis, Chris McAlister, Sam Adams, Michael McCrary, and all wanted to bartend and make additional donations. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any better, she walked in the door. She was a breath of fresh air. Dirty blond hair, tan skin, Mediterranean features, dressed like she was right out of Cosmopolitan magazine. I had to meet her!
“Hi, I’m Brian, welcome to The Still” I said holding out my hand. “Thank you; I’m Nichole, nice to meet you”. “Well Nichole, grab a drink, enjoy the evening and don’t forget to tip the bar tenders, it’s for a good cause”. With that said, she was off to the bar. We exchanged glances throughout the evening and a few smiles, but there was something about her that had me fascinated.
As the evening came to a close, I helped count tips in excess of $10,000; a great success. Many of the players matched the tips and in total we made around $50,000 to donate to the American Red Cross. I stood at the door at the end of the night and thanked many of our patrons for coming and making donations. It was here that we crossed paths again and I asked Nichole the question that had been brewing all night in my head.
“Hey Nichole, would you like to go to dinner sometime”? “Sure, why not” she replied. We exchanged numbers and I was shocked at how easy that was. Usually I am petrified to ask a girl out on a date, but she made me feel at ease. I called her midweek and made arrangements for dinner that Friday evening.
It’s a bitter sweet moment to think that the greatest tragedy to hit on American soil was the catalyst for a first date with my future wife.
It was the first full week of class. I arrived early for my 8:30am calculus class and took my time getting there. After having previously been at UMBC and taken two years off of school to work, I decided I need to go back and finish my degree. The walk from the parking lot to the classroom at Catonsville Community College was not a short one. People walking everywhere, cars jostling for parking spots, everyone was always in a rush.
Last week we received our syllabus and an overview of the course and that was pretty much it. Today was the first day to get into the meat and potatoes of calculus. Twenty-five minutes into class there was a lot of activity outside the class room so the professor closed the door. No sooner did the door close an administrative personnel opened the door and advised us that all classes were canceled for the remainder of the day and we were to leave campus as soon as possible. “Wow, leave campus” I thought. That’s really odd, I wonder what is going on? I pack up my stuff and begin walking back to the car.
On the way back to the car, everyone seems to be running around campus in a panic. Non-stop cell phone chatter, groups of people talking, faces with looks of disbelief, shock, and anger. “What the hell is going on, what did I miss”? I pass by a group of guys talking and I overheard one of them, “One’s already hit the north tower and they say that two more plains are unaccounted for, they think the other two have been hijacked” he says. The first person I thought of was my father. He travels for business all the time and I prayed to God that he was not on one of these flights. I tried to call his office but all cell towers were busy, I received some automated message to try again later. I tried calling my parents house in New Jersey. Six attempts later I was able to call out, but got no answer. Tuesday’s my mother plays bridge so she wouldn’t have answered anyway.
I finally get back to my car, turn on the radio and start my drive back to Owings Mills from Catonsville. Interstate 695 was packed with cars. You could feel the tension even driving on the highway. All of my surroundings just felt heavy, like something was going to happen at any moment, but you didn’t know what. Even the radio DJ’s didn’t know what was going on. I was listening to Kirk, Mark, and Lopez on 98 Rock and it was complete chaos. Their radio announcements were them watching CNN and they reiterate what was going on. And then it happened…The Emergency Broadcast System message came on the radio, only this was not a test.
I don’t think I left my couch for three days after the 9/11 attacks. I was constantly watching CNN waiting to see what would happen next. How could this happen to the United States of America? We are the most powerful nation in the World, but an extremist terrorist group was able to give us a knockout punch. “Should I enlist in the Marines”? I thought. I think my mother would kill me first. I needed to do something, but what?
October 15, 2001, it only took a few weeks to pull everything together. With the help of my good friends and Baltimore Ravens players Chris Redman and Obafemi Ayanbadejo we organized a great event. The bar that I worked at, An Poitin Stil (pronounced put-CHEEN), hosted the event and it turned out better than I could have imagined. With the help of Femi and Chris we got members of the team to come and “guest bartend” for the night. All tips received would be donated to the American Red Cross, it was brilliant and best of all, I thought of it!
All the big names showed up, Ray Lewis, Chris McAlister, Sam Adams, Michael McCrary, and all wanted to bartend and make additional donations. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any better, she walked in the door. She was a breath of fresh air. Dirty blond hair, tan skin, Mediterranean features, dressed like she was right out of Cosmopolitan magazine. I had to meet her!
“Hi, I’m Brian, welcome to The Still” I said holding out my hand. “Thank you; I’m Nichole, nice to meet you”. “Well Nichole, grab a drink, enjoy the evening and don’t forget to tip the bar tenders, it’s for a good cause”. With that said, she was off to the bar. We exchanged glances throughout the evening and a few smiles, but there was something about her that had me fascinated.
As the evening came to a close, I helped count tips in excess of $10,000; a great success. Many of the players matched the tips and in total we made around $50,000 to donate to the American Red Cross. I stood at the door at the end of the night and thanked many of our patrons for coming and making donations. It was here that we crossed paths again and I asked Nichole the question that had been brewing all night in my head.
“Hey Nichole, would you like to go to dinner sometime”? “Sure, why not” she replied. We exchanged numbers and I was shocked at how easy that was. Usually I am petrified to ask a girl out on a date, but she made me feel at ease. I called her midweek and made arrangements for dinner that Friday evening.
It’s a bitter sweet moment to think that the greatest tragedy to hit on American soil was the catalyst for a first date with my future wife.
