I was taking my 14 month old son to his daycare listening to an inane pair of talk radio hosts on KLIF in Dallas. They reported the story of an explosion in Manhattan. “Jay & Hilary” were so goofy that I thought it was some joke, so I switched to WBAP for the real scoop. When we got to the daycare, the TV was on and we were all transfixed. Luckily my son was too young to care. I stayed so long, I was afraid I’d be late for work. There was no problem with my tardiness. No one was working. Everyone in the office was glued to the TV. After we saw all the raw footage of the jumpers (something that will probably never be shown again on TV), my boss, a retired Air Force master sergeant, called everyone in to the break room to discuss the apparent attack that our country was under.
At lunchtime I went for a haircut. If there is one place that has no lack of opinions, it is a barbershop. It was a raucous discussion that day.
One thing that I distinctly remember, and I’m sure will never happen again in my lifetime, was the peaceful silence of the following days when all commercial air travel was restricted. In the Dallas area, you can look into the sky and see no less than three planes at any given moment. It creates a constant hum that you get accustomed to after a while. But for those few days…..there was no rumble. It was eerie.