Who says Texas isn't a proud member of the South? From Gabriel Elizondo, an Al Jazeera reporter traveling across the US, interviewing people about the ten year anniversary of 9/11. This is what happened when he tried to interview folks at a local high school football game in Texas.
From Al Jazeera:
After the national anthem was over, I approached Mrs. Yauck.
“Hi, my name is Gabriel Elizondo. I am a journalist, I live in Brazil, and I am driving across the country to talk to people about the 10 year anniversary of 9/11. I randomly stopped in here in Booker and I would love to film a little of the football game and maybe see if anybody, like the parents, want to talk to me about their views of 9/11 during halftime.”
Mrs Yauck bounced up from her seat, approaches me warmly, and gives me a wonderful Texas hospitality smile and said something to the effect of “what an interesting project” I was doing.
She was all grins and good cheer. Could not have been nicer, really. I think her brain was still trying to process: Journalist. Brazil. 9/11. But that was understandable, as I am sure it’s not everyday that trifecta comes to Booker.
“So you will need to send me the link of this when it goes on the internet or whatever,” she says.
“Absolutely,” I say.
She said she was out of business cards, so I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my wallet, grabbed by business card, and handed it to Mrs. Yauck.
I don't think anything can wipe that double-wide smile off Mrs Yauck’s face. But my Al Jazeera business card does the job pretty quick.
“So you’re from Al Jazeera,” Mrs Yauck says in a sharp tone, still looking down at my card. Looking up at me, she adds quickly, “ So what’s your spin on this story?”
“I don’t have a spin,” I say, still smiling to try to ease any sudden tension. “What I told you is exactly what I want to do. Just talk to people, film a bit. That is it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But you’re with Al Jazeera?”
“Yes,” I say proudly, still smiling.
But Mrs Yauck is again staring down at my business card.
“Our superintendent is here, let me just go talk to him and I’ll be right back.”
(A superintendent is like a CEO of a school district, the top boss).
I guess ‘my project’ is not quite as interesting anymore to her.
She then leaves, taking my card with her.
I sit down in the bleachers. And wait.
About five minutes later, a man comes walking up to me, alone, and he is clearly the superintendent. He just walks up to me and glares. It’s a sharp glare, like I intentionally backed up over his daughter’s puppy and laughed about it.
Needless to say, he is not smiling.
He doesn’t introduce himself to me, that I recall. But it doesn't take Julian Assange to figure out later he is Michael Lee.
So I tried my best: “So, I guess Mrs Yauck told you who I am. I am a journalist crossing the country doing random stories about the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 and I was hoping to talk to some people here about it at the game, and get some opinions.”
He then said something I could not entirely make out, because his voice sort of quivered from a combination of being obviously furious and nervous at the same time.
But I am pretty sure he said:
“I think it was damn rotten what they did.”
“I am sorry, what who did?” I say, not sure exactly if he was calling me rotten, the terrorists rotten, Al Jazeera rotten, or all of the above.
“The people that did this to us,” he says back to me with a smirk, still glaring uncomfortably straight at my eyes.
“Well, I think it was bad too,” I say. “Well, do you think, sir, we can film a bit of the game and talk to some people here about just that?”
“No. You can’t film, you can’t take pictures, or interview people.”
