I think I've related this before, but on 9/11, I was driving out to Hofstra Law School (I was in my second year). I commuted to Long Island from Manhattan. Listening to Howard Stern, as I always did, when I looked in the rearview mirror. I just happened to be on a rise on a section of the LIE such that I could see the Towers. One of them was smoking. Then Stern said a small plane had crashed into one of the Towers. Thinking not much of it, I continued driving, and the events continued to unfold. I watched the buildings fall in a classroom on a TV. Then because I couldn't get back to Manhattan because it was sealed off, I spent the night alone in East Hampton. I still wish I had turned around as soon as I first saw the smoke. Not that I could have helped or anything, but just to be there. To be close, and of course, to be with my family. We didn't lose any immediate family members that day, and I can't believe our good fortune.
The mood in the city for the weeks and months afterward were unlike anything I have ever seen or likely ever will see again. As bad as everything was, the city truly came together. The only thing that comes close is when there is a blizzard here. All of a sudden, the NYC edge softens and people are just kind of friends, throwing snowballs, hitting the bars. It was like that for a long time (though more in a life during wartime sort of way) and I will never forget it.