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  • I stopped on my way to work. I had forgotten it was flying over the city that morning. But as I passed the Kennedy Center the radio announcer said it was arriving about ten minutes earlier. I had to look up at the sky.

    The viewing spots along the river by the volleyball courts were filling up slowly. I parked illegally; the secret service agent a few hundred feet away didn't care. This was a special occasion.

    We strained our eyes towards the south, assuming that we would first see the approaching speck from there. By chance I looked up river. There! There it was! Just over the Roosevelt Bridge! Magnificent.

    It did it's first loop, and then a second, third, and fourth. The traffic stood still in all directions. This we would claim as a new piece of history. Even if we couldn't wipe the picture out of our minds from the last time a plane flying over the Washington skyline made the international news, at least we could replace it with something positive. And awesome. And bittersweet. The end of an era.

    Now, I find myself looking at every plane as it approaches for landing, trying to see whether it's riding piggy back. No. But that doesn't matter. Because I will remember this moment.
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