Everybody has one, here's mine.
Four years ago at this time, I was riding shotgun in a speeding truck with a chica of mine. She's from Texas too, but was living in DC then. I was jobless and there for a visit. When I'd bought the return ticket, I had a choice of a 10 am or 5 pm flight out on September 11. I didn't feel like I'd want to get up that early, so I picked the evening flight.
That morning, another chica of ours had called us up, telling us to turn on the news. The phone call woke us up and we were sure it was a joke. The first thing I saw when I woke up that morning was the smoking Pentagon. The next thing I did after picking my jaw up off the floor was start packing. She did too.
There was no discussion or planning. We knew what we had to do: get back to Texas.
We didn't know what was going to happen, we didn't know if there were ground troops, we didn't know if there would be roadblocks, but we did know that we were going to make it back to where that Lone Star was flying or die in the attempt.
By the next day we were kissing the soil of the Republic.
Don't hate me because my fortune cookie came true.