I was 33 and was just getting into my stride working in IT after 3 years. Was working at a place that did student loans for truck driving school students. Fairly big operation, and the IT dept had an open checkbook for equipment, software, staff and such. Great manager, awesome co-workers. They had dozens of ghetto sows fresh off welfare working in the collections dept - nasty sows, perfect for the job.

So I'm watching over his shoulder as one of the senior admins shows me how to partition space on a big new EMC RAID array we had just installed. There was a brilliant programmer who also happened to be an amateur pilot working a few rows of cubes away. He shouts out, "A plane just hit the World Trade Center!" My first thought was "Bid deal. Some knucklehead in a Cessna got lost. It's happened before. No major damage." We all knew better within about 5 minutes.

A bunch of IT staff gathered around the programmers desk. He had some news feeds. Can't recall that there was a TV, maybe there was in the lunch room. There was some speculation about what might have happened, most of it head scratching about why a commercial jet would be anywhere near there. Then the second plane was flown into the towers. Now there was no doubt, terrorists. Shortly afterwards they told us all to go home.

I went home and got the only defensive firearm I had at that time. A S&W K frame single action 38SPCL revolver, got back in the car and headed to my parents house. (Dad had a significantly better arsenal.).

Mid day turned to afternoon, and evening. Glued to the TV, watching the same footage over and over. Went back to my house and for the first time, kept a pistol on the bedside table.

Two days later it was learned that a kid I grew up with, Bobby, had been on the second plane into the towers. I had known Bobby since about age 5 or 6. His mother used to babysit me for a few hours in the afternoon when my mother went to the family business to do the books. When we got to be 7-8 it became clear that Bobby was "different". His older sister told me once that Bobby had a "blood problem". Actually, he was as gay as the day is long. I moved on to other friends, more interested in sports than than A&E type stuff. We went to school together pretty much through high school, but didn't associate.

There was a big memorial held for Bobby at his sisters place about a week later. I learned he had finally found his dream job. Working as a steward for United Airlines. He had been on the job for only a month or two before 9/11. I remember thinking to myself how ironic it was that Bobby was one of the first casualties of the new war.

I'm much better prepared now, and it's a 1911 that now stands at the ready on my bedside table.