On September 11, 2001, I was skipping class in medical school the day after a test. I had slept in and it was only a phone call from my mother that woke me up. She was watching the news about the first plane slamming into the WTC. She woke me up in time for me to see the second hit happen live. I watched all day. Watched as both towers collapsed, feeling utterly helpless. I think it was the first time I ever realized that I actually had feelings of patriotism. If I had lived in NY, I would have made my way downtown to help, but here I was, stuck thousands of miles away, watching it unfold on TV. It was probably the same way everyone else in the country felt: sickening.