Worst Episode Ever?
I thought I would post something today because it marks not only the fourth anniversary of 9/11 but the fourth anniversary of one of the worst things that ever happened to me. In late August 2001, I started a trip by myself to the Galapagos Islands and Ecuador. On September 6, 2001, I was riding a bus from Quito to Baños when this Ecuadoran dude sat down next to me and started talking. I had a clunky Spanish conversation with him for about an hour, and he offered me a fruit drink (in one of those little plastic bottles that look like miniature milk jugs). Then I got sleepy...
Next morning, seventeen hours later, I was on a bench in Baños...somewhere. I was so groggy I can't recount exactly what happened or where I was, but somehow I got to a police station, where the cops asked me where I was from. I talked to them (in Spanish or English - I have no idea which) and they put me on a bus back to my hotel in Quito. My money belt was missing with its contents ($200 cash, my passport, and two credit cards). Also stolen - my sunglasses, regular prescription glasses, backup contacts, camera, and my Ecuadoran guide books. Most importantly, I was unharmed (except for the drug hangover which lasted for days). Also good, all my Galapagos photos were in a suitcase I left back in Quito, along with some extra clothes.
When I arrived back at my Quito hotel (in a free taxi ride? I don't know), I told my story to the hotel staff that recommended Baños in the first place. They were horrified. I called my parents, who were also horrified. My dad contacted my travel agency and wired me some more greenbacks (Ecuador used US dollars as its currency). My half-Ecuadoran, half-Russian tour coordinator gave me the money and arranged for me to stay at another hotel (my current Quito hotel was booked for Sunday night). I cancelled my plans to go to the Amazon and slept most of the weekend.
My dad raised Cain with the US Embassy in Quito, and I was able to get a "travel letter" from an American bureaucrat who came in on a Sunday to meet me. This letter, with a passport photo stamped and attached to it, allowed me to leave Ecuador on Monday, September 10. After anxious flights to Miami, then Charlotte, then finally to my hometown of Columbia SC, I wanted to kiss the tarmac. I was tense because I didn't have enough money for a taxi, so I almost wept with relief when I saw my then-girlfriend in the window of the terminal.
I was already making up "funny" jokes about what happened to me when I was knocked out. At the Miami airport, I made myself laugh thinking about a Ecuadoran gay porn movie - "Jose and The Sleepy American" - that would be wildly popular. Basically I was trying to think up some funny lines to beat my friends to them.
Here is the weird part - I arrived in Columbia around 8 pm EST, September 10. If I HADN'T been drugged and robbed, I would have been due to come back to America on Wednesday September 12, 2001. As we know, the events of September 11 forced all air traffic to be grounded, so I would have been stuck in Ecuador for who knows how long. I'm sure 9/11 would have been even more bewildering and scary if I had to get all my news in a foreign country in a language I can barely understand.
As it turned out, my father called me Tuesday morning to tell me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I watched live when the second plane hit. My mom immediately called and we agreed that it had to be terrorism. I was glued to the television at that point, and saw both towers collapse live. To this day, I still find it hard to comprehend that the World Trade Center doesn't exist anymore. It is like the Eiffel Tower or the Taj Mahal just disappeared. Not seeing them on the New York skyline is still jarring.
It was a weird six days. Drugged and robbed one week, witnessing a national catastrophe the next. I'd like to say that since these events, I appreciate life more and don't take small things as seriously as I used to. That is true in the broadstrokes I guess, but it certainly wasn't a neatly delineated epiphany like a fictional character would have.
Do life-changing epiphanies EVER happen? I'm not sure. Getting robbed in Ecuador was definitely NOT the worst thing that ever happened to me, as I learned in June of this year when my stepfather died. Most likely, I will have to deal with the deaths of other loved ones in the future, and in comparison, my Ecuador adventure will be a fond memory.
As for the national tragedy that happened four years ago today, I don't think 9/11 can be called the worst single event in American history. For a recent example, Hurricane Katrina might have killed more people, and undeniably cost more money, displaced more people, and damaged a much larger area than 9/11. Of course, 9/11 was a much bigger shock, and indirectly led to the Iraq War, which has killed tens of thousands of people. However, Katrina will resonate historically too. Not only because of the bungled relief efforts - it also shows how quickly a First World society can dissolve into anarchy and misery.
For the nation, there will be worse days to come, but I will elaborate on that later.
Next morning, seventeen hours later, I was on a bench in Baños...somewhere. I was so groggy I can't recount exactly what happened or where I was, but somehow I got to a police station, where the cops asked me where I was from. I talked to them (in Spanish or English - I have no idea which) and they put me on a bus back to my hotel in Quito. My money belt was missing with its contents ($200 cash, my passport, and two credit cards). Also stolen - my sunglasses, regular prescription glasses, backup contacts, camera, and my Ecuadoran guide books. Most importantly, I was unharmed (except for the drug hangover which lasted for days). Also good, all my Galapagos photos were in a suitcase I left back in Quito, along with some extra clothes.
When I arrived back at my Quito hotel (in a free taxi ride? I don't know), I told my story to the hotel staff that recommended Baños in the first place. They were horrified. I called my parents, who were also horrified. My dad contacted my travel agency and wired me some more greenbacks (Ecuador used US dollars as its currency). My half-Ecuadoran, half-Russian tour coordinator gave me the money and arranged for me to stay at another hotel (my current Quito hotel was booked for Sunday night). I cancelled my plans to go to the Amazon and slept most of the weekend.
My dad raised Cain with the US Embassy in Quito, and I was able to get a "travel letter" from an American bureaucrat who came in on a Sunday to meet me. This letter, with a passport photo stamped and attached to it, allowed me to leave Ecuador on Monday, September 10. After anxious flights to Miami, then Charlotte, then finally to my hometown of Columbia SC, I wanted to kiss the tarmac. I was tense because I didn't have enough money for a taxi, so I almost wept with relief when I saw my then-girlfriend in the window of the terminal.
I was already making up "funny" jokes about what happened to me when I was knocked out. At the Miami airport, I made myself laugh thinking about a Ecuadoran gay porn movie - "Jose and The Sleepy American" - that would be wildly popular. Basically I was trying to think up some funny lines to beat my friends to them.
Here is the weird part - I arrived in Columbia around 8 pm EST, September 10. If I HADN'T been drugged and robbed, I would have been due to come back to America on Wednesday September 12, 2001. As we know, the events of September 11 forced all air traffic to be grounded, so I would have been stuck in Ecuador for who knows how long. I'm sure 9/11 would have been even more bewildering and scary if I had to get all my news in a foreign country in a language I can barely understand.
As it turned out, my father called me Tuesday morning to tell me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I watched live when the second plane hit. My mom immediately called and we agreed that it had to be terrorism. I was glued to the television at that point, and saw both towers collapse live. To this day, I still find it hard to comprehend that the World Trade Center doesn't exist anymore. It is like the Eiffel Tower or the Taj Mahal just disappeared. Not seeing them on the New York skyline is still jarring.
It was a weird six days. Drugged and robbed one week, witnessing a national catastrophe the next. I'd like to say that since these events, I appreciate life more and don't take small things as seriously as I used to. That is true in the broadstrokes I guess, but it certainly wasn't a neatly delineated epiphany like a fictional character would have.
Do life-changing epiphanies EVER happen? I'm not sure. Getting robbed in Ecuador was definitely NOT the worst thing that ever happened to me, as I learned in June of this year when my stepfather died. Most likely, I will have to deal with the deaths of other loved ones in the future, and in comparison, my Ecuador adventure will be a fond memory.
As for the national tragedy that happened four years ago today, I don't think 9/11 can be called the worst single event in American history. For a recent example, Hurricane Katrina might have killed more people, and undeniably cost more money, displaced more people, and damaged a much larger area than 9/11. Of course, 9/11 was a much bigger shock, and indirectly led to the Iraq War, which has killed tens of thousands of people. However, Katrina will resonate historically too. Not only because of the bungled relief efforts - it also shows how quickly a First World society can dissolve into anarchy and misery.
For the nation, there will be worse days to come, but I will elaborate on that later.
posted by David Bowden at 5:29 PM
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