I woke up to the news on my clock radio that a plane had hit one of the towers. Having had a lifelong love of airplanes and having spent most of my career to that point related to aircraft, I didn't think it was an accident. When I turned on the tv and saw the second plane hit, I knew we were under attack. I called into work to see what the situation was. I worked in a Federal building at the time. They were on complete lockdown and told me not to come in. They only wanted essential personnel (in this case, security) there. I spent the day watching the horrific coverage and praying for those affected by the whole event. We lived near LAX and the city airport was just a few blocks from us, so it was very eery not hearing any aircraft overhead. My parents were supposed to be flying home from visiting my sister in Seattle that day, so needless to say I was very anxious until I heard from them. Since all flights were grounded, they quickly rented a car (before everyone else decided to as well) and drove back home. A friend of mine's parents were supposed to be flying home from Logan Airport in Boston that day and he was extremely upset that he didn't hear from them because one of the planes that hit the towers was out of Logan. He finally heard from them the following day. They were ok and making alternate arrangements to get home. My husband was living in upstate NY at the time and vividly remembers the only planes overhead being fighter jets flying over from the local air base. It was very nerve-wracking for him, as he wasn't fully aware of the extent of the attacks until he got home later that day. I remember all this as if it was yesterday. It's something that is seared into my memory.