The bag slammed through the skylight, raining coins and glass pellets all over the lobby. Not that we knew it was a bag, it might as well have been a bomb with the havoc it created in the lunch crowd. An older businessman had the unfortunate honor of being directly under it, knocked down by a few hundred Sacajawea dollars. Most people cowered, a few ran, I stared. I guess I was far enough away to appreciate the event without fearing for my life, or maybe I’m just not that bright. I’d recovered enough to wonder what had happened, so I stared up. I could see the black plastic lawn-and-garden trash bag twirling to the ground, disappearing in the crowd. Through the skylight, nothing but a low overcast sky and the silhouette of the tower disappearing into the clouds showing through the shattered skylight. There were quite a few questions I could have asked, but none could really encompass how ridiculous this was, so I just stared up at the clouds as the pandemonium continued around me.