We were living in the DC suburbs that day. My last message from my then-husband, just after he told me that he could see the Pentagon burning, was that someone was running through the corridors of the USDA building shouting "Get out!" At home, our land line was down, no cell signal could be had, the Internet was completely frozen, and our cable was being installed. There were crazy rumors—that didn't seem that crazy on that day—going around: The National Mall is on fire! Car bomb exploded outside the State Department! Another plane is headed toward the Capitol! (There was a lot of confusion about Flight 93.)
I was very concerned too, about my former coworkers; the publisher where I worked is located literally a stone's throw from the Capitol. I shudder to think what would have happened to them had Flight 93's target been reached and that target was indeed the Capitol (as opposed to the White House). So for that reason I will always be grateful to the Flight 93 passengers' bravery and heroism.
It was a nerve-wracking, stomach-churning morning. My ex did end up getting home safely, but so many people did not return home that day, including several from our immediate locale.