Osama and other drugs

Pictured: Official terrorist greeting.

On September 11, 2001 I worked at Blockbuster video on the west coast. We'd had some sort of inventory morning which meant I was working from 4 or 5 am. I finished by 6ish and got to go home earlier than all the other losers/friends/coworkers. I remember that as I entered the house, the phone was already ringing. It was one of my high school friends (I'd just graduated) telling me to turn on the news because it was World War 3.

The second plane hadn't hit yet. Smoke pouring from the building. Replaying the footage over and over. Home video, people screaming, crying. Was it Saddam? Was it an accident? Who was responsible? By the end of that first day we had our name: Osama.

All of our anger, our hatred, our indignation was directed toward that man. He would not have the last laugh. He had no idea the can of worms he'd just opened. Then he became impossible to find. He made some videos, we thought he was dead once a couple months later, but we were wrong, he just slipped off the grid. Living in caves, they said. Needle in a haystack.

Now two invaded countries and ten years later, we got him. A violent end for a violent man. And I'm glad.

Ironically, I was at work when I found out. I was at work for a unusually late night, as opposed to an unusually early morning. I immediately raced home to catch the speech, to get the details, to learn everything I could. I was excited, I was overjoyed. Finally, a face had been brought to justice, even if his machine continues working without him, at least we got the bastard.

My coworkers however seemed less than enthused. Like I was telling them about who won the Best Screenplay Oscar or something. Mild surprise ("Oh, really?") then back to work, back to life. Over it before it began.

This is shocking to me, but I guess all the hubbub, violence and disappointments over the years have desensitized some of us to the original momentum. It's hard to see the value of more violence when we've been waste deep in it, psychologically anyway, for nearly as long as we've been hunting his ass down.

Maybe that's his final victory. Maybe terrorists only need be patient enough to wear us down so that we lose interest in defeating them. At any rate, at least we can stamp one more figure on the side of our cockpit.

I leave you with this: