As with President Kennedy’s assassination, or the first moon landing, everyone over a certain age remembers where they were when two hijacked planes crashed into New York’s World Trade Center 20 years ago next month.I was a journalist in Brussels.
My phone rang almost immediately. ‘Get to New York,’ my editor in London said. As a human being I was appalled at what I had seen on television, but I confess that as a reporter I felt a keen sense of anticipation as this would be by far the biggest and most consequential story I had ever covered.
When transatlantic flights resumed three days later, I caught the second one – to Toronto. There were still no flights within North America so I rented the last car available, a big black Lincoln.
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