I was still living at home and got up and my Dad was standing in the living room shirtless staring at the TV - kind of a suspended reality moment. This was in between the first and second planes.
Like others have mentioned, it felt like perhaps it was an accident. A bad accident, but still an accident. Then things went to s*** real fast. I'll never forget that feeling of listening to the radio all day at work. Trying to get news online but everything was slower than molasses.
It truly was the developing news story of our era. We had become so accustomed to (and now, even more so) getting information and understanding immediately. There was so much uncertainty about what had happened, whether it was over, and what was going to happen next.
I remember feeling a real sense of sympathy for, and solidarity with, the American people.
And also, like others have mentioned, debacles like Iraq and the incorrect/botched/false intelligence that pointed the guns at an old, neutered enemy instead of the real perpetrators and threat, was disappointing.
Colour-coded fear meters, freedom fries, duct tape and poly. It was all just a bit too much in the months and years following.
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