It long ago got to the point where Osama bin Laden was a theoretical character living in a cave somewhere in mountains straddling Afghanistan and Pakinstan. So the news early this morning about the Special Forces action at a mansion in Pakinstan was a surprise. It quickly got me thinking where I was on September 11, 2001 (calling it 9-11, I think is demeaning). I had the radio on when a plane hitting the first tower was reported. I immediately turned CNN on, just in time to see the second plane crash so horribly. I hopped into the car and started driving from Stratford to Manhattan. By the time I got to Fordham Road in the Bronx, the traffic backup was terminal, so I bailed out, drove to the Stamford train station and like then-Mayor Dannel Malloy, spent hours interviewing people with concrete dust in their clothing and hair, who had one sort of brush with death or another on that day of infamy.