Nine years ago on this date, I was at work in Washington DC when the third terrorist-piloted airplane hit the Pentagon building. From our office windows, my co-workers and I watched the thick black smoke rise from across the river. Immediately afterward, the bosses announced we could all leave. Traffic in and out of the city was massively gridlocked so two colleagues and I walked up the street to get ice cream to pass time while we waited out the crowds, as none of could think about mundane office tasks.