It was surreal, because no one around me had any clue what had just happened. My co-workers and I spent the rest of the day glued to the radio at work (in downtown Boston), making phone calls to friends and family checking to make sure everyone we knew in the area was ok, while the news kept pouring in. We were probably the only business open that day (boss at the time was an idiot). I spent the day sewing a large tomato costume, thinking about how my 3 day old niece was just born into a very different world.
I was very fortunate to not have lost anyone close to me that day, but the photos that covered the normally void subway walls from one end to the other in search of those considered still missing, were a stark reminder that many others had. My bedroom window in Southie faced Logan Airport and I used to watch one plane after another pass over, day and night. It was strangely quiet for that week following.
It's amazing that it has already been 10 years.
I'd love to hear where you were...
The absence of planes in the air for so many days was probably the eerie feeling that most of the people in this country experienced. I thought it was interesting that you pointed that out because the memory that keeps running though my head the most right now is the feeling I got when I saw the first plane in the air after that day. I was with the family on our boat in the FL Keys, it was so quiet, but we could hear a jetliner way up at full altitude. It was a little breathtaking, realizing that America will overcome this.
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