My parents generation will never forget where they were the moment they heard that JFK was shot. This generation will never forget where we were on September 11, 2001.
On September 9, 2001, we boarded a plane bound for Puerto Rico. We originally had plans to spend September in New York City but switched our plans earlier that month and decided to visit New York City later in the fall instead.
I distinctly remember going through security at the San Francisco International Airport and both of us noticed and commented that the security agents weren’t paying attention to the items under surveillance, they were more interested in their own conversation. It was disturbing, but all we could do was shrug our shoulders and continue on our vacation.
Then came September 11th, 2001.
We’re west coasters, but that morning we were on east coast time having arrived in Puerto Rico two days before. That morning, I went to the hotel’s workout facility, placed my headphones on my ears, and started my run on the treadmill. I looked up to see the television in the corner of the room and saw what looked like an airplane that had hit a tall skyscraper. I thought to myself Hollywood was trying to market another blockbuster movie with an airplane that hit a building and it was some sort of evil character involved. I kept running on the treadmill. It never crossed my mind that it could possibly be real.