At 8:43 a.m. on September 11, 2001, I was waiting for the traffic light to change on 23rd St. and Madison Ave. when Atta hit the throttles on American Airlines Flight 11 out of Boston and powered it into the north tower of the World Trade Center. I know because I heard and watched it happen. All of it--the sirens, the fire, the second plane, the building disintegrations-- everything. My friends perished in the building, one of my buddies from my deer hunting club is a fireman; his sister, another member of my hunting club, worked for the medical examiner's office. I prayed for them.