I've posted this a few times before, but what the hell.

I was on my way from the Bronx to a funeral home on Flatbush Avenue in Marine Park, Brooklyn. A lot of people may not realize this, but the bridges and tunnels weren't closed until after the second tower was hit.

When I was pulling out of my garage, I'd heard on AM radio that a plane hit the Trade Center, so I figured that it was a single engine puddle jumper or something like that. When I got to the EZ Pass lane at the Whitestone Bridge, I saw all the smoke coming from the first tower. That's when I knew it wasn't a prop plane. Too much damage. I was about halfway across the bridge when I looked to my right and saw, with my own eyes, the second plane hit tower two and explode into a fireball. It was the most surrealistic and frightening thing I've ever seen in my life.

At that point, having figured out that we were under attack, I still had to deal with the idea of being adjacent to LaGuardia and halfway to Kennedy airport. I was a wreck thinking that a plane would explode right on top of me. I finally made it to Brooklyn and stayed there until the bridges re-opened (around 5 or 6 o'cock that night).

And FYI, the sky this morning here in New York is very similar to how it was twelve years ago. Bright blue and beautiful, but it's a little hotter today.