September 10
Before I begin this entry, I want to state for the record that my desire to post this doesn’t come from some inner need to have a spotlight pointed on me. I realize that there are countless memorials and accounts of the attacks of September 11, 2001. I wish 
not for this entry to be considered more important, or more poignant than those who were directly effected by the loss of a loved one or someone close to them on that fateful day. I only hope that sharing my experiences of that day and the days that followed will serve as a testament to honor the fallen and the brave souls who fought to stop what was happening…
My recollection of those events actually began late in the evening of September 10, 2001. My partner and I had just wrapped up a family visit on vacation, and we were heading back to New York City, where we were both stationed at our airline. Our flight to La Guardia was the last of the night, coming from Denver. Strangely, there were very few passengers on our flight that evening and we found ourselves occupying our own rows, one directly behind the other.
When we made our decent into the NYC area, the captain informed us that we’d be coming into LGA on a direct heading, and that anyone on the left-side of the airplane would have a perfect view of Manhattan as we landed. We moved over to the windows to watch the spectacle that is always New York City at night, and that night was no exception.
We passed over the Statue of Liberty and then made our way past the twin monoliths of the World Trade Center. As we passed by, I recall the conversation I had with my partner: how we had lived in the area for four years up to then, and had still never made it to the observation deck of the Twin Towers. I remember making sort of a pact that we would make an attempt to visit that vantage point in the very near future. It was that last time he and I ever saw those buildings intact…
We lived in Richmond Hill, which is a small suburb of Queens, approximately 9 miles (as the crow flies) from the WTC. Sometimes, on a good, clear day, you could make out the silhouette of the Towers from the elevated train, just a block from our building. It was always fun to see them jutting out from the horizon, and we often commented on how far apart they were from the Empire State Building, something you could definitely make out from the La Guardia Airport.
We had gone to bed late that night since our arrival was just before midnight, and it was nearly 1:30 a.m. before we found ourselves nestled into our bed, with our two cats lying across us on top of the covers. We both fell sound asleep and what we dreamt of that night, I’ll never know…
Our slumber was rudely awakened to the obnoxious sound of the house phone, ringing impatiently. I got up to answer the call and my younger sister was on the other end of the line, panicked. Since I was still trying to shake the sleep from my brain, I didn’t quite grasp what she was so upset over. “I am soooo glad you picked up! Are you watching the news?”
“No…are you crazy? I just woke up!”
“Go turn on your TV!!! NOW!”
Reluctantly, I walked into the living room and turned my set on…I have been a news junky all of my life, so not surprisingly, the television was already tuned to CNN. There on the screen sat the WTC, with smoke billowing from one of the towers. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Wow, that looks like quite a fire,” I said to her.
“The news says they think an airplane crashed into it! That’s why I was calling you to see if you two were okay!” she replied.
“Well, yeah, we just got in late last night. What makes them think this is a commercial jet?”
“That’s just what they were saying…that’s all I know. I’m gonna hang up now…I’ll let mom and dad know you guys are alright, ok?”
“Sure,” I said and unconsciously hung up the phone. I quickly went back into the bedroom and awakened my partner. “Hey, you need to come take a look at this. The news is reporting that a commercial jet crashed into the World Trade Center!” A muffled “huh?” is what I got in return as I headed back into the living room to watch the events unfold.
As I listened to the ‘talking heads’ make commentary and speculation about what had happened, and as my other half walked into the room to see what I was yammering on about, it happened. The most horrific thing I had ever witnessed up to that point in my life, and the moment everything in our lives changed. We sat in silent horror as we watched the end of United Airlines Flight 175 disintegrate into the side of #2 World Trade Center.
A sudden numbness fell upon me. At that very moment, I found myself in a state of suspended animation…I know what I saw, but my brain wasn’t processing it the way it should have. All I could do was hold myself and listen to the continuing conjecture and supposition that the news anchors were spewing, constantly updating and trying to disseminate information as the event unfolded and as news reporters around the area were checking in.
Within minutes of the attacks, the video of the crashes were being repeated over and again, each time the images burning hurtful and damaging memories into my subconscious. As reports of an additional plane being crashed into the Pentagon and a fourth one missing and presumed lost in the lower part of Pennsylvania came in, I felt paralyzed…I wouldn’t move and I couldn’t either…I was a dry sponge, absorbing every tidbit and scrap of new information that came over the air.
Before long, the FAA reported that all planes in U.S. airspace were being grounded. There were planes coming in from Asia and Europe that were diverted to various airports in Canada. Later, the word came down that all airline traffic was suspended for five days until these things could be sorted out. My partner and I were scheduled to fly during those days…we were told to stay home.
Later in the afternoon, the telephone rang again. This time, it was an unexpected and worrisome call: it was my nine year old son, calling from California. He was crying and yet happy that he had finally been able to reach me on the phone. He said that he had been trying for hours to get through, but the phone systems across the country were jammed. It felt good to reassure him that I was okay and that he and his younger sister could rest easy this night, knowing that daddy was home and safe. Many others would not have the same fate as I that night.
For three solid days and nights, I sat electrified to the couch, eating very little and saying very little. One peculiar thing happened during this time at home. A year earlier, we had adopted a Short-haired domestic grey Tabby cat named Chloe. It was evident early on that she suffered from anxiety and separation issues, and that she had been somehow abused as a kitten. Afraid of her own shadow, she would rarely sit in a lap, or nuzzle up close to either of us. On the afternoon of Sept. 11th, however, she started doing something she had never done before, but to this day, she still does: she hopped up onto my partner’s lap and began to nuzzle and ‘paw dance’ on his arm, purring deeply. Amazingly, 9-11 affected even our cat!
Near the end of the third day of non-stop news coverage, the flood gates opened in my mind. I suddenly turned off the TV and began sobbing; my body heaved with fear and sorrow and I couldn’t control the tears. The reality of a life-changing event crashed down upon and around me and I had trouble breathing…it was like this never before experienced anxiety swept over me and I, for the very first time in my life, felt real fear.
On the fifth day following the attacks on the US, I was asked to work a flight to London out of JFK…the first one to London my airline was able to operate after the events that shut down our nation’s transportation system. It had been difficult for the airline to find crew members who were willing to fly then, but somehow, I mustered up the courage to say ‘yes’ and I headed to the airport.
The flight over was surreal. The passengers were quiet and somber. Many wept the entire flight. I found myself handing out tissues all across the Atlantic, and I caught myself weeping in the lavatory on several occasions, not wanting my passengers to feel any further anxiety than they already had. The flight attendants performed there duties, albeit we were staffed at the minimum allowed by the FAA because no one else was emotionally ready to return to work. Meal services went by rapidly, and many refused to eat as most had lost their appetites.
When I arrived at Heathrow, I was met by an airline supervisor, who was desperate to find crew members willing to work the flight the next day to San Francisco. I said ‘yes’ without hesitating, but I knew that I was doing so without thought or consideration of my own fears and anxieties. I was literally mentally numb and it would take months to fully get back to my typical, jovial self on board the airplane.
That first trip back on the line ended up stretching into a seven-day stint for me, flying back and forth between LHR and SFO with minimum rest in-between flights, the airlines were all so desperate to get people where they needed to be. The time past like a flash to me; somehow I just really don’t remember much of the trip or the crew I worked with at all.
In the weeks that followed, I worked on flights that brought in fire fighters, policemen and Search & Rescue teams from around the world to New York City. I’ll never forget the day I worked the flight from Los Angeles to JFK when the fire brigade from Disneyland came to New York to help in the rescue efforts. The leader of the group honored my crew with tee-shirts and lapel pins of Mickey Mouse in a fireman’s outfit with a crash axe in hand, the official pin of the Disneyland Fire Department. 
In honor of all the volunteers who helped during those trying and extremely difficult days that followed, I continue to wear “Mickey in Uniform” on my own flight attendant uniform.
Tomorrow, it will have been ten years since the nightmare began. I will never be able to relate to those who perished on the four flights of 9-11-01 nor can I comprehend the sense of loss that those who lost anyone in the Trade Center or the Pentagon or Shanksville, including the police, firemen, search & rescue volunteers and even the cadaver dogs.
As the coverage on this event ramp up, I’m sure that many of the old feelings will return. As an example, the NBC Nightly News reported a couple of days ago that the audio tapes from the emergency 911 calls and the air traffic controller audio tapes had just been released and they played some of that audio on the news. A chill went down my spine and I could feel a sickness develop in my stomach again. Had the report lasted a further 30 seconds, I would have turned off the television. To this day, I have never been able to watch the film “United 93″ and I doubt I ever will.
There are events which are so pivotal, that we humans tend to reference our timelines by them: Where were you when Kennedy was shot? Do you remember watching the first man on the moon? What were you doing when Challenger exploded? It’s common for us to do this.
For me, none of those events carved out such a deep knotch and such a deep emptiness like 9-11 did. For many of you, I’m sure you feel the same.
My career was changed forever too. Every year, new regulations, new restrictions and new warnings are passed down the pipeline for us. We may never have the luxury of relaxed airline travel again, and perhaps an event such as this one should prevent us from letting our guard down, even for a second at this juncture. As long as man continues to hate his fellow man, and use fear and death as a weapon against each other, our lives will never really find relief.
And that is something I wish we could all remember, and forget…
