I lived approximately 11 miles from Ground Zero at the time. My grandma was visiting and woke me up to tell me that a plane had hit. I watched the towers fall from my buddy Jeff's rooftop. Jeff lived on a hill.

Two days prior, on Sunday evening, I had just done my first ever shift as an EMT. When our squad sent in trucks, I ran down to HQ, but they laughed (in a nice way of course) and told me that noobs aren't allowed. I wound up staying at the building for 3 days covering shifts so other guys could go to the Javits Center for rehab operations. I helped clean the trucks as they would come back. I remember being pretty resentful at the time, but I was a punk kid. Now I know better. Glad I don't have lung cancer.

Whole thing was (and still is) surreal.

Three wars. Patriot Act. CISA/CISPA. TSA.