That night, I was in a hotel in Crystal City, across the Jefferson Davis Highway from Reagan National Airport. It was the weirdest experience--it was way too quiet.
I wound up driving cross-country from Washington to San Diego to get home.
I live a few miles from the Pentagon.
Saw the smoke cloud a few minutes after impact. I couldn't make my business meeting because of the gridlock (all gov workers sent home). When the LPG tank at the Pentagon blew, it shook the windows miles away. We thought it was a nearby truck bomb at first. My wife had already gone to work.
So I went home and watched the F-15's escort jets down to the Reagan National tarmac, and chase the Fox News helicopter away from the Pentagon.
That night my wife and I drove up 395, past the Pentagon (still in flames) and into DC. We were literally the only car on the road.
In DC, a deserted ghost town with roadblocks everywhere manned by various police departments, where they would not normally be (14th and Constitution). Strange flying motorcades of three cars up and down Pennsylvania Ave.: a black Suburban followed by a black sedan followed by another black Suburban, flashing lights only no sirens.
Then the anthrax, opening the mail with concern for weeks. Then the CAP flights above DC, you could see them high in the sky at night, making wierd 90 degree turns to hook up with their buddies. Eight at a time or maybe even more, I couldn't keep track.
Things felt better when Reagan National opened again.
I hope a lot of Islamists have been killed.