I had just started dating a girl in college and one night stayed over in her dorm room instead of going home. I get up the next morning, and decided to blow off an 11 AM class, so I call a friend that's in the class to make sure she's taking notes. She answers the phone in tears, and starts screaming, "WHERE ARE YOU?" Once she calms down, I find out that a fucking plane crashed in the neighborhood of condos I lived in early that morning. I drive home, have to park a 1/2 mile away because of the police presence, which includes me having to show my license with my address on it so I can get to my apartment. Here's what happened--The main street in the complex is about 1/2 mile long. I lived in a set of condos on one end, and the plane crashed into a set on the other end of the strip. Holy shit, it freaked me out. Turned out that it was a homicide--the plane was carrying a guy from Gulf Power who had or was going to testify against some big shot in the company. They found a duffel bag in the plane that was filled with bottles of acid in an attempt to completely destroy the plane when it crashed. I still have a roll of the police line tape that I rolled up from in front of my condo a few days later. About 3 months later, there was a party in the complex, and it was on the foundation of the condos that were there pre-crash. I talked to a guy that was in one of the condos when it happened--he was taking a shower, and realized the ceiling was caving in on him...he grabbed the shower curtain, wrapped it around him, and ran out. Also funny--some of his nudie mags got blown all over the place as well.
Hope all folks involved are OK.