I was a college freshman sitting in small windowless basement seminar room with six other students in a Connecticut college town. We were about to start our second hour of conversational Russian that day with one of the staff native speakers when one of the other native speakers stepped into the room with an absolutely ashen face and said, "The president has been shot." I didn't even know that he spoke English; we had always interacted with him in his language.
Needless to say, the second hour of Russian didn't happen. We all rushed out of the room and up the stairs to the street, wondering how we could confirm what we had just heard. As we stepped out through the building portico, we saw a red Ford convertible with its top down illegally parked in front of the Law School main entry half a block away. Dozens of people were moving toward the car from many directions, and it was already mostly surrounded. They had to have been listening to the radio. That pretty much told me what I needed to know without even hearing a word.