Just flew in the night before from attending my dad's funeral. My dad had always had a bit of a sixth sense, and I knew that night that I just needed to get off of that plane. I had never ever, ever had a problem flying before, but I just had to get off that plane. The stewardess kept bringing double shots of whiskey and that calmed me down. I never got out of control, just calmer by the shot.
That next morning, just 4 hours after getting off the plane, I watched Fox News, and I saw the first tower burning and the second plane fly into the second tower.
A gift from Dad...and God.
Thanks.