There are many reasons I have a difficult time maintaining a straight face on 9/11, but chief among them is my memory of that day.
I was in a locker room, looking at the first tower burn. This old, naked man crossed in front of me then bent over a fountain to get a drink. I saw two things then I didn't want to see: this man's butthole and the second plane.
This is the image in my head whenever people talk about how you'll never forget where you were or what you were doing that day