Don't get me wrong here. I am more than happy that Osama Bin Laden is fish food, although I'm appalled that he was given religious rites. That's another story. What concerns me is what happens next.
I was working in DC on September 11, 2001. It was a gorgeous day in DC. Sunny and pleasantly cool, but it seemed as dark as night after the news of the attacks reached me. I remember seeing streams of people walking over the bridge on Connecticut Avenue because the Metro was shut down. Traffic was at a standstill as thousands tried to get out of town. At the time, I was riding the Metro to work and had no way of leaving the city other than just to start walking, so I decided to wait until train service was restored and the crowds thinned. My employer brought in food for everyone and gathered us together to talk about what was happening. I sat in my office for most of the day listening to news reports on the radio and trying to reach family and friends to let them know I was OK. I cried. By 3:00 p.m. when I left for home, the streets were virtually abandoned. So were the trains. Those that were still in the city went about their business in silence. There was nothing to be said. Life had changed in an instant.
Since September 11th, I have stopped riding the subway to work. I avoid meetings in downtown DC as much as possible. I breathe a sigh of relief every afternoon as I drive outside the Beltway toward the safety of home. I breathe a bigger sigh of relief when I leave the city for an extended period of time for vacation or business travel. I'm never totally at ease in DC any more. Every siren and every helicopter overflight gives me pause.
Let's face it, DC is the crown jewel of every terrorist's aspirations. They're not going to stop trying to kill us, and the stakes just got a lot higher. So has my anxiety.
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