My husband was a truck driver and even though we had one little one, I was still with him most of the time. Our son was born Memorial weekend that year, so he wasn't quite 5 months old yet.
Each and every week, we delived at a meat place on 10th St in NYC every single week. That particular week, we were sent to Boston. My husband woke me to listen to the radio. We left Boston as quickly as we could and barely made it out before they shut the city down since the planes originated in Boston.
We were in Jersey by the time the 2nd tower fell and they wouldn't let us into the city. It was like a second home to hubby since he was out there every single week.
Hubby's family didn't know that we went to Boston that week. We couldn't get cell service until late the next day. We finally got through to people and they all thought we were dead.
Our trips out there were never the same again. When the towers fell, they destroyed the little meat place that we used to deliver to. We would have been seriously injured if not worse, had we delivered in our usual place that week.