My 9-11 story
I'm not big on personal reminisces online, nor do I usually feel the need to recount the obligatory "where were you when". But it's hard to believe that it's been 15 years. For better or worse, it feels like yesterday, and I'm in a reflective mood. The evening before, on September 10th, I was in Manhattan having dinner with a friend, so I got home to Brooklyn very late. My job in Long Island was officially a consulting job at the time, and my arrival time wasn't strict, so I knew I could sleep in a little. I had my clock radio tuned to WNYC and it woke me up around 8am, but I kept hitting snooze for at least 45 minutes. I was the only one home, my parents both having left for work earlier. Finally, closer to 9am and half-asleep, it percolated to me what the voice on the radio had been saying for the last few minutes. I was immediately awake, though I assumed (as did most for almost 20 minutes) that the first plane was an accident. I stayed at home lis