I was at Taco Bell

Twenty five years ago, on September 11, 2001, I walked into a Taco Bell in Farmville, Virginia, on a lunch break and heard one of the staff, a National Guard member, say, “We’re under attack. We’re under attack.” She was frantic, pacing back and forth under the menu behind the register. While we were ordering our lunch, the young woman, maybe five years older than me, told her manager that if her phone rings she has to answer it. And it would ring, one call after the next, the entire time we were there. She’d answer it and say, “Have you heard anything yet? Do you know anything?” then a little while later, “No, mom. I don’t know anything yet. I don’t know if we’re going to be deployed” and “We’re on high alert for whenever they call us up. That’s all I know. We’ll have to go when we get the call” and “I don’t know anything else. I love you.” And “Yes, sir. Yes, I understand.” I was working in construction at the time. I was nineteen years old. Earlier that morning, around 9:30 AM,…