I remember where I was when I heard about the Twin Towers being hit. . .in my apartment in Koriyama, Japan. It was about ten o'clock at night, and I was getting ready for bed. My other American apartment mate, Jeff, knocked frantically on my door, danced into my apartment, turned on the TV and repeated over and over, "look, look, look!" We both stood on the tatami staring at my 10 inch (or something ridiculously small) TV and watched the towers sending up billows of smoke. He had seen the second tower hit. It was like watching a movie, especially since I was so far away. I stayed up most of the night watching the coverage, hoping for some English to squeak through here and there, and checking the Internet for any piece of news I could find to put all the pieces together. 

I didn't get the day off like so many of my friends in America, so I got up early that morning and went to school. President Bush had said, "We're closing the borders," so I felt abandoned as I walked to the teachers' lounge and only a couple of people said anything about it. The day was in slow motion. 

Japan got over it in a week. It was like it never happened. I was floored when I flew into the States for Christmas and saw the "United We Stand" posters everywhere and news anchors still covering related topics. The best word I can use to describe it is surreal.

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