My 911 Story: Part 1
My Unheralded Mission: Keeping the Engine of American Commerce from Seizing
Part 1: Chaos, Fear and Confusion
Some stories wait decades to be told. This is one of them. Delays stem from various causes, including indifference, laziness, security concerns, procrastination, and other excuses, some valid and some not. My excuse falls under procrastination. Eventually, a story demands to be told, and if this coincides with the writer's urge to express it, it emerges. Here is my 911 story.
I must issue one caveat: this is a memoir, written in the tradition of oral history. The events I describe occurred two and a half decades ago, and though they were traumatic, imbuing a powerful impression in my subconscious, I did not approach the events as a historian, but as an active and unwitting participant. The early days following the 911 attack were confusing and chaotic, and much of my story must journey from a twenty-five-year-old memory bank to the page. None-the-less, the essence of my story is accurate. I have used the internet to research the events for dates, places, times, etc., that years could have allowed to escape from me. Nevertheless, I believe you'll find this a compelling tale of one pilot's strange 911 experience.
September 11, 2001, began as a clear, beautiful day. The sky around New York stretched deep blue to the horizon. I don't recall a single cloud in it. I had arrived in Newark the night before with my wife. Newark was our crew-base. I was a captain with Continental Airlines, and she was a flight attendant. We had commuted down from Boston on September 10th for our individual recurrent ground schools; we had arranged our schedules to match. Continental's recurrent ground school was held just north of Newark, in Secaucus, N.J. We had chosen the Newark Airport Marriott as our hotel for our one-night stay, as we both had a trip the next morning, on September 12th.
The evening seemed routine, though we had no idea what was to come. The next morning we headed for Secaucus. I can't remember how we got there, but I'm certain we didn't drive ourselves; we hadn't a car. Arriving at the training center, I headed for my pilot recurrent class, and my wife headed for her flight attendant class, which was on the opposite side of the building. Her classroom faced Manhattan across the Hudson River. The pilot classroom lacked any view; I don't even remember a window in it.
As I sat listening to the instructor drone on about an airplane system I had studied many times before, I noticed my wife frantically signaling through the classroom door. I felt a bit puzzled and somewhat embarrassed because of the interruption. The instructor caught my distraction and glanced at my wife. As a considerate instructor familiar with all of us, he smiled and motioned her to come in. I remained seated, hoping this would be important. It was. She told us that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. Naturally, I believed, as I think we all did, that it was likely a general aviation plane piloted by a wayward aviator. We were all baffled by how an aircraft might hit a gigantic skyscraper on a CAVU (Ceiling And Visibility Unlimited) day. It seemed preposterous. We all stood up and made our way to her classroom.
I recall making an off-hand comment that an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center on such a clear day was intentional. Another pilot scolded me for fear mongering. At the classroom door, we entered just as a massive ball of orange and red wrapped around part of the second tower. I’m uncertain whether we captured the exact moment of the jet’s impact or its immediate aftermath, but the airplane was not visible to us. My eyes met the pilot who had chastised me; We stood in stunned silence, all frozen in the confusion and disbelief. What everyone was certain of was that America was under attack. We were uncertain about what happened next. That’s everything I remember about being in that classroom.
Making our way back to our classroom, we sat and stared at the instructor. I suspected that continuing ground school might be doubtful, and I’m certain the instructor was as confused as we all were. We all sat debating the who and what of the situation: The instructor informed us the class was cancelled.
Meeting up with my wife, I arranged to head back to the Newark Marriott. Up until that point, no one suspected just how fast the conventional ways of doing business in America would vanish. Filled with fear and anger, we were about to venture into strange and threatening territory. How hostile the situation was going to be was soon to be discovered.
Organizing the return to Newark Airport we saw the. smoke billowing from the two towers, and I recall thinking they looked like burning candles. To put it mildly, it was a nightmare, to say the least. We hadn’t grasped just how drastically things were going to shift. I don’t think anyone had informed us about the other attacks yet. They would have increased the fear and confusion. The first plane hit the WTC was 8:46 EDT. The second strike happened at 9:03 EDT. At 9:37 EDT, the attackers hit the Pentagon, and the crash in Shanksville, PA took place at 10:03 EDT.
I remember connecting with fellow employees and arranging transport back to the airport. I’m unsure if it was a Continental van or a personal vehicle, but we proceeded to I-95 South. The police blocked the entrance. I-95 had been closed. Shut! I had just seen something I knew would carry major political and military consequences. I was aware things were bad, but the closure of the main north-south highway made it clear that we were no longer in Kansas. We were inside the cyclone.
After going over our options we decided returning to Newark Airport was necessary. My wife and I had a flight the following morning, and for some illogical reason, I believed we might fly. We were still dwelling in the old world. We agreed to head west, traveling through the towns west of I-95 along the secondary roads. Since it was a long trip, I’m assuming we might have heard of other attacks by that point.
The driver agreed to drop us off at the Airport Marriott, or so we thought. As we navigated the airport road system, we came across a roadblock manned by several armed men. We received orders not to get any closer to Newark Airport or the Airport Marriott and were directed to make a U-turn. The situation only grew more bizarre. I told the officers that my wife and I were Continental crew-members and that we were staying at the hotel.I let him know we were flying the following morning and that our uniform and luggage were in our room. They probably experienced the same confusion as everyone else and they permitted us to pass.
At the Marriott, I witnessed a hectic scene with stranded guests, law enforcement officers, and apparent federal agents. Seeing such a large number of law enforcement officers at one hotel seemed unusual to me, but I thought little about it and we went to our room. As we walked into the room, we switched on CNN, and a broader picture took shape. This might have been when we grasped the full extent of the attacks, because the details were more vividly emphasized. Even though it sounds ridiculous now, I was curious if our morning trip was still on. However, the reality was becoming apparent. Although I don’t recall the exact details, we contacted scheduling during the day and found out they cancelled our morning trip, but scheduling refused to release us from duty. Like everyone else, they must have felt confused. Since we had paid for the hotel room for the night, we opted to stay. It wouldn’t have made a difference; we were notified that no guest could leave the hotel.
