10 Years of September 11th

10 years ago today the defining act of the modern era occured. The terrorist attacks on New York and the fall of the Twin Towers, the attack on the Pentagon and the crash of Flight 93. The attacks became known to the world as the 9/11 and to this day are the most well know atrocities inspired by 1990s boyband 911.

Although Pentagon experts later suggested that MTV show Totally Boyband was under surveillance.

I had been working in upper New York state that summer. I was in a small tourist town called Lake George. Notable only for being the setting of  James Fenimore Cooper The Last of the Mohicans. I was playing Frankenstein's Monster at House of Frankenstein. I would lurk in the dark and scare the women. It got even worse when I put on the makeup.

This had been part of the BUNAC scheme for British student to work in the US and Canada. It was an excellent scheme although the superiority of the people who administered it made we womder why they were there. They took the typical "Americans are stupid" line. I remeber distinctly the orientation meeting we had. The Welsh BUNAC rep who had her modicum of power stated

"Americans think the world revolves around them. Who plays Baseball apart from them. They call it the World Series and name one other country which has even taken part"

"Canada" I said

"Humphh. Well that doesnt count. Its just like America"

"Is that like your being English" I responded

She ended the conversation there.

After I finished the summer season there I had a week in New York before my plane home on September 11th. I did all the American tourist things like the Staten Island Ferry, went for a curry in an Indian restaurant run by some people from Birmingham and on September 10th I took a walking tour of New York run by the YMCA. This was utterly fascinating as we quite literally walked around New York.

Little Italy consisted of a street. I went to a Chinese restaurant called Wong Kees and scandalised two Americans by stating that if you wanted to emigrate to America you had to prove you had a skill they wanted and you couldnt get a Mexican in to do it cheaper.

We were the last people ushered out of the Winter Garden Atrium beneath the Twin Towers little knowing, with exception of staff, I was one the last people to see them.

Then I went back to the youth hostel I was staying in, on 148th and Amsterdam. I had noticed the hostel's TV was permanently on FOX Network which suited me. On FOX Kids the following morning the first episode of the new cartoon Transformers: Robots in Disguise was to be shown. Being the huge Transformers fan which I am it seemed like a nice bonus before I set back of to England.

I was woken on the morning of September 11th by the four Spainiards I was sharing a dorm with gabbering very loudly with each other. All I could make out through the Spanish was the repeated use of the words "World Trade Center". I presumed there an  Iberian day trip planned so went to the shower, changed and headed downstairs to the television room.

I came to watch the news on and an image of the First Tower smouldering. Nobody knew what was going on but I remember a few of us remarking it was not impossible for it to have been an accident. The flight path into New York took you very close to the World Trade Center and you could envisage an scenario where it all went wrong.

I nipped outside with a couple of others to get a coffee at the shop across the road. As we went outside a plane flew vey low overhead and as we followed its trajectory I could tell where it was going. I cannot remember if I saw it hit or not as I think my brain grasped the enormity of the situation before the actual event.

One is unfortunate.

Two is deliberate.

From here on in my recollections of events become indistinct and I cannot remember the chronology of events with any accuracy mostly due to heavy drinking. Which a lot of people took to. There was nothing to do so most people were whiling away the time in pubs and bars.

I remeber there were firefighters sleeping in the spare rooms at the hostel. What suprised me more than anything was there were only a few of them. I had expected every nook and cranny to filled with sleeping memebers of the emergency services.

The streets were full of police. It was probably the safest time to walk around New York ever as it was how I imagined communist Moscow. Crawling with police and all the people's ire directed against a nebulous foreign enemy.

Who the enemy were was not relevant at the time. Later it came out about who was responsible but on the ground they were too emphemeral to matter. It was like hating clouds for the rain.

The 9/11 memorabilia market likes to remember everybody pulling together and New York linking arms against those who would oppress it. I won't disagree but people were making a lot of money out of it. All of us in the youth hostel were trapped oceans away from home and the hostel was happy to charge us our normal price for room and board on a daily basis. I have always thought this was an utterly repellant position and flew in the face of the American unity we were presented with. It was my only criticism of New York.

Looking on Google Maps I am not even sure it is still there. Hopefully karma has paid its off its naked capitalism.

I ended up meeting with a TV crew from Anglia Television, my local station, as one of the crew knew my parent next dor neighbour. They were making a documentary in New York at the time. I hung around with them for a few days before we could all fly again.

My journey to the airport was uneventful. I spent most of it talking to the modelling agent of Rebecca Romijn. He was English but had been in States long enough to get that odd Transatlantic accent you hear on Joan Collins and formerly, Roddy McDowall. He was heading back home because he said 9/11 had put it all in prespective for him and he realised he had not been back home for 11 years.

He was a nice chap an a pleasant antidote to the youth hostel as he had noticed I was down to my final pennies bought me lunch and a coffee.

I flew home on September 16th. There had been various plans mooted such as switching flight tickets to Toronto airport and everybody travelling up to get the planes still flying from Canada but it was never likely. We all just had for events to pan out.

Lots of things are said about 9/11.

Most of what is said is complete nonsense.

Nobody knew what was going on so everybody just tried to get home.

Occasionally it dawns on me I took part in history. That I am off the margins of history textbooks yet to be written but I rather wish I was not.

Really I wish it had not happened.

A Wet and Miserable Day

It is early afternoon and I am sat here watching the rain fall endlessly from the sky. It is like being back in Scotland.

I went part time at work in July and as I was getting ready for the Edinburgh Fringe I had not thought about what I am actually going to do with my time.

I went part time primarily so I could travel to gigs and after getting back at 3 in the morning not get up 3 hours later for work. This was a bold a sensible plan but that will not start having an effect for a few weeks yet due to how my diary has worked out.

So instead I have been writing. I am just getting into the swing of writing as disciplined, scheduled activity. I have never done it before so I have been aiming for one hour per day to begin with. Yesterday went very well with a new routine and some disparate gags I shall throw into my set. All written to the background harmonies of the people at the library

Norwich is a small pond but there a few places I can get stage time. However, as it is so small I have decided that all the open mic gigs I do in Norwich now I shall be doing new material at. My intention is to come up with a useable new minute per week.

There is a dreadful pressure for people to write an hour-long show within their first few years doing stand-up. I do not know where it comes from as there are no agents saying you must have an hour before we will look at you. It seems to be a cultural meme which has sprung up on the open-mic circuit.

I have a few ideas for shows spanning my interests from science-fiction, to martial arts to disappointment but I shall be not be doing anything with them until I am happy I have a 4**** show.

Back to the library then.

No Days but Welcome Back to the Really Real World

So my time at the Edinburgh Fringe has been over for a week now and already it feels like a lifetime ago. Like all dreadful memories I have already supressed it and moved onto new abuses. One day I hope I am rich so I dig up all the memories from the mental subfolder I have put them in and then afford the therapy to deal with it. One might argue stand-up is therapy in which case my life is a perfect model supersymmetry and recursion.

I spent 3 days in bed with headache and then another 2 in a daze. I was pulled from my mental fugue by 3 days of gigging over the weekend.

I had been approached by a promoter to do a gig for them on Friday but this did not happen as they had not confirmed with me despite 2 Facebook messages and a text from me, by that morning of the gig. This was extremely frustrating as I had a sentimental attachment to the gig in question. The promoter was one I did some of my very early gigs with but I doubt now I will be doing any of my later gigs for them.

Then I went off to do the wonderful Brownstock Festival near Woodham Ferrers in Essex. It took me an hour to get to Chelmsford then about an hour to travel the few miles from Chelmsford to Woodham Ferrers. I had a rather fun gig despite the stage being the floor of a truck and my trying to compete with a ska band pumping out from the other stage.

It was a reunion of sorts for me as Paddy Lappin, formerly of Norwich was there. He goes by the name of Patrick now he has moved to London.

Ponce.

As was Alex Holland and Will Howells. Yes dear reader, it was a 3 Man Roast Reunion except they were perfroming later than I and I left before they went onstage. I was the John Cleese of the comedy partnership that night. Paul Duncan McGarrity, the compere of LOTWAA was there also making it quite the squared circle.

After an arduous journey back I was back in Norwich for a gig at the Hog in Armour (a pub I always wanted the rename the Lusty Pig). I have done a lot of gigs in this pub and most of them, despite having great potential, have been pretty awful due to the pub's insistence of having us in the main bar. Where we are generally presented with a disinterested group of natives whose sole desire is to drink until they are brave enough to try and pull the barmaid.

This time we were in the fantastic function room upstairs and it was a lovely homecoming gig post-Edinburgh. I shall be back next month doing all new material.