Got up, showered/shaved/etc -- caught the Metra into town to go to work. It's 10:00 EST by now, but I have no idea whats going on. As I'm exiting the train, I hear a lady on her cellphone say something about a Boeing plane being hijacked. I live in Chicagoland, and assumed that it had something to do with Boeing's recent relo. to Chicago, someone protesting against globalization or something. I paid it little mind.

Left the train station, hit the street...kind of eery, static-electricity charge to the air. Like a thunderstorm was about to hit (but an absolutely beautiful day, weatherwise). I approached my building (LRG financial trading institution), and see some traders running out to catch a cab. STILL paid it little mind.

I enter the coffehouse to get breakfast. I hear lots of chatter (mostly in Spanish), but did hear someone say a plane hit the Pentagon. And also heard the word tres. Got to my office (10:10 EST), and everyone is standing around, chatting.

"Hey", I said, "a plane hit the Pentagon". I was quickly informed of the unfortunate incidents in NYC. I called my fiance, told her I was ok, and, within about 10 mins, was evacuated.

I spent the next two days in front of my TV. I cried some. Not just for those that perished, but also at this thought:

What sort of race we are, us human beings, that we can perpetrate such heinous actions against ourselves.

And I envied the innocence of my cat, who, completely oblivious to the world's events that day, busied himself with his usual meticulous cleaning.

ÅßÅ×ÅßÅ "It is a very mixed blessing to be brought back from the dead." -- Kurt Vonnegut