![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Writer's Block: 9/11
Sep. 11th, 2011 11:47 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
10th grade, art class. I wandered down to the vending machines in the cafeteria to get a Dr Pepper. While I was struggling with the malevolent, sentient pop machine, the principal wandered by, talking on a walkie-talkie. "An explosion. They don't know if it was an accident. They think it was a plane...yeah, a plane." When I got back to class with my Dr Pepper, the TVs were on and everyone was freaking out.
We weren't let out of the classroom for three hours, and then we all had to go home. The bus dropped me off and I walked home watching the sky.
10th grade, art class. I wandered down to the vending machines in the cafeteria to get a Dr Pepper. While I was struggling with the malevolent, sentient pop machine, the principal wandered by, talking on a walkie-talkie. "An explosion. They don't know if it was an accident. They think it was a plane...yeah, a plane." When I got back to class with my Dr Pepper, the TVs were on and everyone was freaking out.
We weren't let out of the classroom for three hours, and then we all had to go home. The bus dropped me off and I walked home watching the sky.