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23rd Anniversary of Pan Am Flight 103 bombing.


The Poojer

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A few years after the bombing, I was working as a bartender in a hotel lounge in Columbus, Ohio. It was a boring day shift that I worked while going to school. One particular day, there was nobody at the bar other than me. It was nearing happy hour when this guy comes in. He ordered a pop and sat in silence. He smoked cigarette after cigarette. He didn't want any alcohol nor anything to eat. Just reading his body language, I could tell something wasn't right. After a while, he started to talk. It turned out his fiancée was one of those lost on Pan Am 103. They were both in their twenties and had big plans for their wedding. There wasn't much I could say. I just listened. I have met some people who had close calls on 9/11 and others who lost friends and co-workers on that ugly morning. But to this day, I have never met such a broken individual as that guy at the bar. I still remember his fiancée's name. I thought Gaddafi got off easy. But I was very happy to see the Libyan people finally hoist some terror on him in his last living moments. He justifiably died with fear.

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