Un-Forgotten: My 9/12 The Next Day
My 9/11: The Next Day, September 12.
At the end of the work day on September 11th, 2001 we all knew that the world had changed, but it wasn't clear just how or how much. In the locker room, I chose to bring my work keys and work ID home with me . . .usually I did not.
The next day, 9-12-2001, I drove in extra early, and sure enough there was a line of cars down the street from the gate and around the corner. Someone in authority had decided that only persons with documentation would be admitted. I was working at the VA hospital in Houston, at that time a 500 bed facility, and there must have been 1,500 employees reporting to the day shift between 7 & 9 AM. Most had left their ID at work. Patients too were being asked to produce proof that they had business there that morning. What a mess! All of it understandable. No-one was prepared to secure the 40 acre site like a military base, yet it seemed to be the prudent thing to do. Who would have thought the World Trade Center was a military target? Was the Veteren's hospital now a target too?
I finely got into the parking lot and through the one and only door in the front that was open. As I walked into the front lobby, I glanced up from my news paper and saw a fit young man in a white lab coat standing with his arms folded across his chest. His eyeballs were scanning the in-coming crowd like he was speed reading. Avoiding eye contact, I looked back at the news paper. Another quick side glance as I walked past showed empty lab coat pockets; not a pen or note book in sight. No stethoscope draped over his neck. I quickly looked down again and saw his feet, soft shoes. . This was not a doctor.
Back in the Nuclear Medicine Department where I worked, I buttonholed the Radiation Safety Officer. He was part of the overall security/safety/emergency response organ at the hospital. As the RSO he reported to the Director of the hospital. I told him right off that I was going to say something and that I did not need or want a response .
"There is a spook in the lobby." I said. "He is trying to look like a doctor but he is scanning the crowd and has no stethoscope. The Lab coat has no custom embroidered name over the breast pocket. A doctor always has something to read or consult in his hand and wears hard shoes, not trainers ."
Then I told him that I thought that the young guy should push an older man in a wheel chair, pointing out that they can put communication gear or weapons in the bag that folks hang on the back or the chair, or under a lap blanket. The RSO just gave me a small grin and nodded to let me know he had heard me. I left his office. Later in the day the young "doctor" was not there in the front lobby; lots of old guys in wheel chairs though. . . .same as usual.
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