It was a brilliant postcard picture perfect day, almost too perfect that Tuesday September morning. It’s one of those days that seem surreal because it was perfect. I wanted to call in for “slick” day but was really needed at work that day. So I made my way to work taking my usual route, a route that took me past the Pentagon on Virginia State Route 110 to get to Memorial Bridge.
The news of what happened trickled in to me. Just crossing the bridge, I hear the first report a plane has ran into the World Trade Center. The news was not very specific, I thought it was a pup plane or some commuter jet. I get to the parking garage and as I walk out there is a gaggle of people discussing the planes that just hit the towers. Planes? As in more than one. I was going to be late. I could not stay to inquire. I arrived at my office and there was a huddle around the television in the lobby. Some were visibly shaken. That’s when I saw the first images of the two towers billowing smoke into that beautiful September sky.
Suddenly, a co-worker runs up to the group and exclaims that the Pentagon has just been hit by a plane. My first thought was “is this a joke because it’s not funny.” My next thought was that I just drove past there not even 20 minutes beforehand. The office manager decided to close the office. I still needed to get work done so I stayed to get caught up.
I left the office at 2pm and it seemed like downtown DC was a scene from Vanilla Sky, it was a serene deserted area. What would normally be a bustling congested area was now abandoned. Traffic was non existent. I never seen the roads so clear in the middle of the day, not even on a weekend morning. As I drove home trying to process the anger, humiliation and sadness, I just then thought to myself, what a shame that such a beautiful day is now so ugly.
