The weather that day was almost exactly like it is today, except the skies were even clearer.
The day before I had been in NYC, as I was several days a week back then. The weather was spectacular, and I planned on going downtown that afternoon.
Despite the fact I had lived in Manhattan for several years, I had never seen the view from the top of the world trade center and resolved that I would bring my camera and take the subway down. But my meetings ran well into the afternoon, and I had to get back up to Connecticut for some stuff Monday night. I had to come back into the city Tuesday evening, so I put off the sightseeing until the next afternoon.
Like this morning, I had been up late Monday night and slept in. When I got up and turned on the radio, I didn’t hear the expected programming. I quickly turned on the television. What I saw was confusing – how could an airplane hit the world trade center on a perfectly clear morning like this? Memory is a funny thing, but as I recall, the second plane came in and crashed into the other tower as I watched the first building burning on TV. It was about this time of day, a Tuesday.
It was impossible trying to reach my associates in the city. The circuits were busy. All any of us could do was watch, and listen, and wait, to try and find out what the hell just happened, and worry what it meant.
Stick to the subject, please.