I’ll never forget that day. Being an avid TV watcher, I woke up late and raced to an 8:50 a.m. French class, no time for the “Today” show. Entering Van Hise, I ignored the groups of students congregated around the TV as I bolted down the hallway.
Out of breath, I sat down at my desk and realized that there were two other people in attendance; a normal class was 15. It was too late to ask why no one else was in the room. My professor began the class, mumbling incoherent French as usual. The only thing I caught was a sarcastic “C’est la vie, c’est la vie,” or for those of you who don’t know French, “That’s life, that’s life.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I zoned out, left the class and then everything changed. I turned the corner to find the very same students in front of the same TV, affixed to it like a lifeline. Tears, hugs and anguish were all I could see.
“What happened?” I asked the girl next to me.
“The World Trade Centers collapsed, they’re gone,” she somberly replied. I was frozen, a month to the day earlier I had returned from a summer in New York City, and the World Trade Centers were a place I frequented.
I remember looking up at those mammoth buildings in awe; I could only think of how awful it must have been for the people on the scene. Then I thought about what my French professor had said. Only minutes had passed since a national tragedy, and already we were back to life as usual.
“C’est la vie, c’est la vie” kept running through my head. If Jacques Chirac had choked on a croissant, class would have been cancelled, but when thousands of people perished in a horrible tragedy, it was just “that’s life.”
The entertainment world flat-lined as movies and Britney’s hip-hugging pants all seemed so meaningless. Celebrities turned the tragedy into a casting video for future dramatic roles, as we all swore we’d never watch “reality TV” and violent programming again. It all seemed so pointless.
Slowly we all drifted back to our old ways. The same guy in the ’88 Sunbird cuts you off in traffic, a snotty waitress puts extra mayo on your sandwich when you didn’t ask for it and we’re prepared to send Mickey Mouse Club members to the moon.
Like many, I didn’t think I’d ever be the same again. As meaningless as it may sound, I didn’t think entertainment would be the same again.
For a while, Tom Cruise and Fred Durst were holding hands, but now it’s business as usual. People still watch Johnny Knoxville pose as a “jackass” one night and dress up like a serious actor the next, people still care about “Survivor” and some even care what color Carson Daly has painted his fingernails this week.
I suppose this is the way it should have turned out. After all, it’s better to make fun of bad entertainment than deal with tragedy. So, as we remember the horrible events of that day, the people who lost their lives and how we felt, we also remember that no matter how stupid, entertainment is one of the things that make this country so great.
