I had just stepped out of the shower in my hotel room and turned on
the TV just in time to see the second plane hit. I was visiting Las
Vegas for a trade show. All I wanted to do was get home (South
Carolina). Once we realized that flights would not resume for several
more days, we got on a waiting list for a rental car. We ended up
getting the last car on the Alamo lot. We left on Wednesday afternoon
and drove straight through, with the three of us taking 4-hour shifts
behind the wheel. With one exception we stopped only for drive-thru
food, gas and the bathroom. It took 35 hours and 45 minutes to get
home.

I remember the anger and fear that I experienced for days after the
attack. I also remember the good feelings that came with seeing all
the "God bless America" signs along the interstates all the way home.
It was an uneasy mixture of emotions, but I remember feeling confident
that we would bring justice to those who committed this terrible act.
It is a shame that so many have forgotten what those days felt like.
We wouldn't be arguing about Afganistan and Iraq today if we didn't
have such a short collective memory.