The college tour in April 2007 with number two son started out by driving through a Nor’Easter south from Massachusetts before touching down somewhere on Route 81 in Virginia 12 hours later.  After a night in some $60 a night motel, we got up, had a quick breakfast and made the college campus by 8:30 am for a 9:00 am talk, a 10:00 tour, and then another talk with the engineering department at 11:00.  Around noon, we figured, we’d hop in the car and drive another 6 hours south to take a look at another school the next day before turning around to head north and hit two more the day after.

So there we sat in the back of the room awaiting the Admissions office pitch.  My son sat with pen and paper to take notes after a little parental head sharpening about it being his decision and his responsibility and me with pen and crossword puzzle to occupy my time. 

We heard what sounded like an air chisel we assumed was coming from the building to our right somewhere around 9:30 or so.  We had passed by this building to get to where we were now, which was on the second floor in a corner room looking out to the left, rather than to the right.  The building to the right was shrouded in tarps and being renovated.  Hence why we figured the sounds we heard were an air chisel.

Minutes later we heard the sounds again.  We knew it was not an air chisel, but gunfire coming from the building to our left, rather than repair work on the building to our right.  We then heard sirens and saw policemen with guns and flak jackets running to the building to our left.  A couple of people jumped out of some windows and were either running or crawling away from the building we would later learn was called Norris Hall.

Around this time the head of Admissions at Virginia Tech interrupted our discussion and had us move into the center of the building away from the windows where they attempted to maintain a sense of normalcy by continuing the admissions pitch to our group of about 30 or so.  We also learned the 11:00 discussion with the engineering department would not take place given it was to have been held in Norris Hall.

Eventually the admissions staff turned the televisions on to CNN and Fox News who had picked up on the story.  They breathlessly reported inaccurate information for at least 90 minutes.  They kept referring to AJ, the building where two had been shot at 7:15 while we were looking out at Norris Hall some 150 feet away where all the action was taking place. 

This inaccurate reporting rattled some of the young men and women who had come here for a tour.  A number of them began to cry.  Neither my son nor I felt particularly in jeopardy, so we began trying to make a few jokes to lighten the mood.  We commented that this would likely improve the odds of those who decided to apply to the school, particularly if they mentioned in their essay having been there that day.

Not much worked.

Around 11:00, the networks began reporting accurately.  With egg on their face they began questioning the judgment of the Virginia Tech administration as if there was some way they could have foreseen this random act of terror on a community of about 25,000 teenagers.  One would have a better chance of keeping track of 25,000 cats as one does of tracking the whereabouts of that many teens.

At this time, I realized I should contact my wife to assure her we were safe.  She was on the West Coast and had not seen the news by the time I called her.  My sister on the east coast, on the other hand, was more than a little rattled, having left several messages for me that I got when I turned on my cell phone.

My near death experience took place around 11:30, and my explaining of it likely will take more time than it did for me to realize I was safe.

I had to go to the bathroom, and pleaded with the admissions staff to unlock the door and let me head to the men’s room.  Said men’s room was at the end of a long corridor about four to five feet wide that took a ninety degree turn to the right shortly after the men’s room door that was also on the right.

When done in the Men’s Room, I came out into the long hallway and started back towards the admission’s office.  When I was about 10 feet from the Men’s room door and about 15 feet from the ninety turn in the hallway, I saw the end of a rifle barrel appear at the other end of the hallway.

Now, in about 2 second’s time I sized up the hallway width and realized that running in a zig-zag fashion was going to be a little pointless considering I have about a 48” chest and the hallway was about 5 feet wide.  All the guy would have to do would be to keep shooting down the middle of the hall, and I was going to be getting hit, regardless.

Likewise, I did not want turn my back and run, as I wanted to be able to look the person in the eye.  Furthermore, I did not want to make a quick retreat to the Men’s room, as then I would have no way out.  I wanted to run all the way back to where the hallway took a ninety degree turn and hope I could then make tracks.

So the plan was to run backwards in a zig zag fashion in much the same way football defensive backs might do it during training camp drills.

I, however, am a broken down, mediocre high school center with a bad knee.  Such agility does not come naturally to me.

So basically I simply stopped to wait to see what was on the other end of that gun barrel while thinking to myself that if this guy was an unfriendly, I was going to be fucked.  For some reason, I also started to laugh – nervously.

The gun was attached to a national guardsmen in fatigues who barked at me as to why I was wandering free.  I told him I had to go to the bathroom and that after seeing him I now had to change my underwear.  

He didn’t laugh.

Around 12:30 we were released from the admission’s office and told to head to our cars and leave the campus.  We headed out of the building and turned right away from Norris Hall before cutting between the admissions office building and the building under renovation to get to the parking lot.  As we crossed over to the parking lot, we began to get a sense of the severity of the situation.  While CNN was only reporting shots fired and some presumed dead, the road behind the school buildings was lined up with about a dozen ambulances waiting to cart away the dead and the wounded.

And that was one of the things that has stayed with me.  The admissions staff talked in very hushed tones throughout this, and you could see the anguish on their faces.  Norris Hall and the admissions office building we were in looked out over what was called the Parade Grounds, which was like an oversized football field.  Helicopters could have come and gone from that spot to move the wounded away much faster, but there were severe cross winds grounding the helicopters.  As such the kids were having to be transported as much as an hour to an hour and a half away by ambulance to receive medical attention.

This agonized the staff.

So my son and I left Virginia Tech without really having seen it.  Adding insult to injury, some overzealous VT security guard had managed to issue me a parking ticket at around 9:15.  It left me wondering whether he was anywhere near the shooter as he headed towards Norris Hall.

From there we headed further south to Clemson.  We kept the radio on and listened to the rising head count with as much, if not more, incredulity than others as we recalled hearing the shots, seeing some of the kids flee, and then walking past the ambulances lined up to cart away the casualties.

Having been there, it made me incredibly intolerant of the way in which various interest groups seized on the situation for political gain.  The students' bodies were not even in the ground before gun control opponents and proponents were yammering on about how the incident proved the validity of their side.  The media did its level best to seek to find incompetence in an administration simply trying to deal with an horrific event that could have happened to any college anywhere.

Bad things can happen to good people simply by virtue of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  Sometimes the gun that startles you is going to be attached to the hand of some crazed and troubled human being, and sometimes it is going to be attached to someone friendly trying to protect you.

I was lucky that day.  A lot of bright, young kids were not, and their lives ended far too early and far too tragically.

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If you read this far, you gotta hit the rate thing.  I mean, come on!  It was at least 8 minutes out of your life, maybe 10 if you move your lips when you read.  That's gotta be worth something, right?