I remember that on September 11th I was angry. Not at the terrorists: we didn't yet know who they were or where they were from. I was angry at my curtailed liberty. I had been ordered to land before I was ready, and was not permitted to fly for the rest of the day, even though it was a beautiful summer afternoon.
It was exciting, then for a day or so, with all the foreign diversions into Canada. The US closed its airspace first, so all the international flights that had not yet entered US airspace had to divert to Canada. Then a few days later they flew out again, exotic types and liveries for the communities they were in.
I originally wrote a longer post about the last nine years, but in the end mine is a different experience than those of my mainly American readers, so I decided to stick to what I knew.