On September 11th, 2001, It started out just as any other day. My alarm clock rang, and I woke up, showered, and caught an RTA bus, starting my hour-long transit to school, just as every other day that school year. What I was to shortly find out was that the biggest tragedy to hit home for my generation to view live had already been planned and was several short hours before being executed. Aimlessly walking through school was part of my daily routine, and I settled amongst my classmates to hear yet another boring lecture about old, wizened men forming what has become today's government for our great nation. Mid period, just as my eyes were getting lazy, and my eyelids quite heavy, my teacher enters the room after a short sojourn to the History Department's lounge. He informs us that the World Trade Center had been hit, but there were no further details. Class droned on as normal, no radio, no TV, no announcement. To the bewilderment of my teacher, nobody believed him; this was a sick joke, right? Throughout the school day, until I could enter the library and view the horrific scene, I was in a state of disbelief. It was quite hard to fathom; the biggest event of the new millennium, and not one classroom was watching the gruesome details unfold? When I entered the Media Room, and actually saw for myself the planes streaking overhead and destroying human life by smashing into one of New York's trademarks, I was speechless. The feeling in my gut made me sick; I was unable to stand. From the moment that I witnessed over national airwaves the mass destruction terrorists had caused us, I knew that the world around us was about to change, and for the worse.
             That evening, through the tears in the neighborhood's eyes, and feeling of an uneasy harmony and peace that a disaster had to create to unite those around them, people started going crazy. The gas prices soared so high that the City of Cleveland had to shut down n...