09.11.01 - 1:29 p.m.

I can already see it written in the history books. I already feel like I've seen it before, in Die Hard or Armageddon or something. The skyline looks so weird, so unnerving.

Dad called at 9:15 and originally I was pissed because I'm still waiting for the damn Rolling Stone call, and then I was just plain confused. Like a mom to her spouse, I shouted, "DAN! Turn on the TV!" and there it was: two gaping, burning black marks on the World Trade Towers. I told Dad it was ok, I wasn't in the city, and we were heading to D.C. for the Ben Folds concert anyway. Then we saw the report that the Pentagon was on fire. Great. So I try to call home and tell the fam that no, we weren't going anywhere now, but all lines were busy. Forget the cell phones. Why in the hell would all circuits be jammed in Johnstown, I wondered. It's not like anything would happen there - no monuments, no big important buildings, just one shitty mall. Then came the report that another plane had crashed in Somerset County. Goddammit, the one place where you think you're safe - Johnstown, PA - and a hijacked plane crashes into a field one town away.

So now I'm a prisoner of CNN, Dan got called into work and all I do is sit around with goosebumps. They closed down all the buildings in Chicago. Our newsroom is a block away from the Sears Tower and the federal building. Not that I would have been there today, but still. And I have no idea where my friends' offices are in the city, or if they're ok.

The biggest act of terrorism on American soil, and still my father can track me down. Amazing.