War fries

On September 11, 2001, I was in a laboratory, attending a biotechnology course for journalists. DNA analysis was slightly more complicated at the time than it is now, and as a result I didn't notice my cell phone buzzing. When I got out of the building at just before 5 PM Central European Time, or 11 AM Eastern Standard Time, I finally glanced at the text messages I'd received.

"What do you know about those small planes that crashed in New York?" They were from a friend of mine. She was someone who once had admitted to feeling stoned after I'd cooked us some pasta - and no, I didn't add some Dutch 'fine kitchen herbs' - so I didn't pay much attention.

When I got to Delft Central Station, my train was delayed. I went to get some fries.

The man behind the counter, with what in PC terms is called "a Southern European accent", was beaming. He asked whether I'd like some "war fries".

War fries are a common Dutch snack; it's the somewhat grisly name for fries that have been sprinkled with onions and soaked in both ketchup and satay sauce. The result is as tasty as it looks gruesome: hence the name.

Suggesting to a customer to order it, however, is quite uncommon. Dutch food sellers are not known for being excessively customer-oriented. And smiling while offering such an advice is outright extraordinary.

Finally I glanced up to the tv screen behind him, to see the North tower of the World Trade Center collapse in agonizing replay. Carnage rerun. In horror, I realised why the man was smiling.

The World Trade Center I had slept in only a few months before. The World Trade Center where I met someone I held dear. The World Trade Center that I got to see on a clear March night from the snow-covered roof of a SoHo lopht.

That World Trade Center was gone.

I decided to skip the fries.

(Thanks to George for making the Dutch Eagle and American Lion flags.)

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