Claim: Horrific events put paid to a cheating husband's alibi.
Sept. 11 this bum, who worked at the World Trade Center, had a breakfast meeting. What he was having, however, wasn't eggs. He was with his mistress. I guess you might call him an early riser. His wife tried to reach him. He finally answered his cell way after 10 in the morning. Panicked, she screamed: "Where are you!" Responding to the angst in her voice he replied testily: "Well, where do you think I am? In the office."
Origins: Humor almost disappeared from American culture in the period immediately following the tragedies of 11 September 2001. For more than two weeks nary a joke was to be heard throughout the land, let alone any of the to-be-expected outpourings of sick humor that often chase close upon the heels of horrific events. The Challenger explosion, the death of Princess Diana: those were almost immediately the subject of gallows humor offerings, some of which were so appallingly tasteless as to provoke a smile in even those most reluctant to laugh. This time things were different: the terrorist attacks and the staggering loss of human life on that beautiful September morn silenced the
Yet laughter is necessary to the healing process and to the process whereby we begin to come to terms with events of great magnitude, both personal and global. The loss of a family member becomes a joking matter, not because that person wasn't loved and treasured or isn't grievously missed, but because he was and is. Likewise, horrific large-scale events become fodder for the joke-makers, and through their product we begin to deal with the sorrow that would otherwise overwhelm
us. Laughter reminds us that the world goes on, and that we must go on with it.
During the third week following the attack, humor began to make its reappearance, but not in its previous brazen, anything-goes manner. Akin to a rabbit poking its head from its hole, tentatively sniffing the air, alert to all nuances of potential danger and ready to dash back to safety at the first hint of anything going wrong, the jokes were uncertain and the laughter nervous. The events of September 11 were scrupulously avoided. But it was a beginning.
The fourth week brought a further loosening as the rabbit came a bit more out of its hole. There was yet a little more expansion into areas of humor that each of us had quietly declared off limits in the aftermath of the tragedy.
The story quoted above is an example of this stage of humor. It's an apocryphal tale as told: no names are given, and there is no pretense of this "true story" being anything but an inventive offering. But it does employ the massive destruction of the World Trade Center towers as the backdrop for its tale of marital infidelity uncovered.
The following version began making its Internet rounds in May 2002. Notice how the story has been fleshed out with additional detail:
The first divorce directly related to the September 11th terrorist attacks has been filed in a NY court.
It appears a guy with an office on the 103rd floor of the World Trade Center left home for work on Sept 11. When he got to Manhattan, he decided to spend the morning at his girlfriend's apartment in the Village. When he got to her place, he turned off the phones, TV and radio and spent the entire morning in bed with her. At about 11:00 am, while still at her place, he turned his cell phone back on to retrieve his messages.
A second later it rang. His wife was on the phone crying and screaming at him, "I've been trying to call you for over two hours!! I've been worried sick about you! Are you OK?!?" He answered calmly that he was fine.
The wife then asked, "Where are you?"
The guy said, "Where do you think I am? I'm in my office!"
In June 2002, this joke began to circulate as an image of a purported newspaper clipping: