When Auntie Janice’s mother, my grandmother, died after a brief illness in 1998, she decided to take life by the horns and threw herself full throttle into a career in the travel industry. Nearly 25 years later, she is now 72 and a kickass tour director who has a real penchant for taking groups (many of whom are senior citizens no doubt) to places like Nova Scotia and just about anywhere on the northwest coast. Yesterday, she was in Bandon, Oregon and then along the Rogue River. She caught a photo of a bald eagle. This year, she decided to embrace her beautiful white hair. She is ageless because she carries the genes of her ageless mother who was taken too young. She is Dad’s only living sister and, 17 years his junior, she has always been the very definition of “cool aunt” for all of my siblings and cousins. For David and Elizabeth, her children, she has been a “cool Mom”. On the anniversary of 9/11 last month, I asked her if she would like to do a guest post on Evergreen & Grey. Her 9/11 story has been giving me chills for the past 20 years and I wanted to share it here to spread it far and wide. Auntie Janice gave me the green light just recently and so, without further adieu, I give to you her story of that fateful day. We love you Auntie Janice. We are eternally grateful for whatever twist of fate worked in your favor.
“Everyone has a story to tell…here's mine
Still recovering from a broken foot, I was cleared to return to work as a tour director only because I promised to keep the "boot" on for an additional week, and because I predicted an easy assignment. Thirty senior citizens to San Francisco and my friend, Mary coming along to help. Even the flight was easy. United Airlines, Boston to San Francisco, Nonstop, departing Logan at 7:30am. On 9/11. Yes, that 9/11.
Mary and I arrived, arranged for group check-in and made our way to the gate. Mary was surprised when a man, questioned by security, had a jack knife returned after it set off the alarm. We noticed a group of about twenty young men waiting for the flight - clearly U.S. Marines - all sporting regulation hair cuts, wearing "a few good men" tee shirts, and dragging duffel bags. In retrospect, their presence was probably our salvation. We took off at 7:45 am.
Just over two hours into the flight the captain advised us to buckle-up due to turbulence. Except there was none - and we were flying very low. She then advised us to prepare for landing. Landing? Two hours out of Boston? Flight attendants were nervously walking the aisle, pacing really, and paying close attention to each of us. A young Asian man sitting next to me looked puzzled and asked "Do you think were in San Francisco already?" "I'm not sure where we are", I replied, looking out the window at corn fields, "but it’s not San Francisco."
Once on the ground a voice came over the PA and briefly stated that the FAA had ordered all planes to land because of a terrorist hi-jacking and that the World Trade Center had been targeted. We were told to exit the plane quickly and make our way to baggage claim. Seated in the rear of the plane I was followed off by an attendant - I gave her a puzzled look, and she confided that it was really bad - planes had hit the buildings and they had collapsed.
Rushing through the deserted terminal we caught images on TV screens. Incomprehensible images. The guys with duffel bags sprinted past us. As we reached baggage claim an announcement was made that the airport was being evacuated, immediately. I got my group out to the sidewalk and went back in to make inquiries - "All flights are grounded, indefinitely." "We have no information." "Oh, yes, I can tell you that…you're in Des Moines, Iowa."
An airport hotel representative approached me to say that there were rooms available, enough for all of us, and that she could send shuttle busses. "Do it." I said, having no idea who would pay for the accommodations. Mary went ahead with the group and I returned to the terminal to make phone calls and try to collect the luggage. I couldn't get through to family, at work or at home, but finally reached my office. The staff was frantic, but relieved that we were safe. Where? Iowa? The phone lines went dead.
I managed to collect all the luggage - no small feat since I was hobbling around with my foot in the foolish "boot." Two pilots helped me get it outside. The hotel sent the shuttle back and forth for the luggage and I waited on the sidewalk with the Marines, who were spirited away on mysteriously arriving Humvees. One of them looked my way and said, "Well, I guess we go to work now."
Once at the hotel I tried my calls again, finally reaching my husband. He had had the presence of mind to call my office and knew we were safe. My daughter, on the other hand, evacuated from her high-rise Boston office, spent frantic hours fearing the worst. My husband at least knew my flight number; my daughter enjoyed no such luxury. All she knew was that I was on a non-stop United flight to the West Coast. My son, in Florida on business, was also trying to get calls through. He kept calling his sister’s cell phone - which she just couldn't bring herself to answer… She finally gave in and they spoke, still not knowing. I can't imagine what they all went through; their worst hours were spent while I was still in the air.
Mary and I sat on our hotel beds, staring in disbelief at the TV. I went to the lobby and found several members of my group, red-eyed and frantic. Tears, hugs. Of course, everyone just wanted to go home. That wasn't about to happen any time soon, and I geared up for what would be major decisions. I'm not exactly sure what spurred me into action - but, clearly, we all couldn't sit in front of the TV crying for days. And after listening to news broadcasts, it seemed likely that it would be days.
I called the local Chamber of Commerce to explain our predicament, and they jumped into action. I gathered tourist brochures and came up with a plan of sorts. We managed to put together a half-day tour (due to the time change it was still morning!) They found a motor coach, got a driver to come in on his day off, and within two hours my little group and I were on our way to see the Bridges of Madison County. Not the movie - the actual bridges. Who knew? That evening I was able to speak with my girl, still shaken. Early the next morning my phone rang, but I got no response to my "hello." It was my six-foot something, football playing son, unable to speak.
Next day we were off to Boone County and a scenic train ride, we visited John Wayne and Mamie Eisenhower's birthplaces. The local casino invited us to dinner. We were pretty determined to go on. People were so friendly and caring - word got out about stranded tourists - we were treated like celebrities. When I think about it now, it's as if they needed desperately to offer assistance to someone, somewhere - and for that moment in time, we were it.
More phone calls, more crying. My office was trying to get travel information, but not having much luck. We decided that since Logan was still closed it would be best to try making our way westward, and hope that our return flight would be on schedule. We booked a flight to San Francisco via Denver for noon on 9/13.
Early in the morning of 9/13, however, I got a strange message…someone called the hotel and left word that our flight would continue on and that passengers should report to the airport immediately. I couldn't confirm this, but decided to act on it. I gathered my group, most of whom were at breakfast, commandeered the hotel shuttle and arrived at the still-closed Des Moines airport at about 9 am. It was true - since the plane, the crew and the passengers were all stranded in the same place, United decided to simply continue the flight. Only those holding tickets from 9/11 were eligible. New regulations were in place - every bag was searched, no hand carry luggage allowed on the plane, no meal requiring a cutting utensil (even at the airport - try cutting a pizza with a plastic fork.) The Red Cross served coffee and donuts. We checked in and waited. And waited. It was hours before we were even allowed to the gate. Media were there interviewing and filming, my interview ended up in the Des Moines Register.
A rather disquieting piece of information came our way… As we went through the metal detector a guard told us that after one of the hi-jacker's cars was impounded at Logan it was learned that they were holding reservations for our flight - the speculation being that several planes to the West Coast were "on the list." Remember the twenty Marines? Certainly not a flight one would choose to hi-jack. He also shared that our plane was highly suspect. A fact confirmed by one of the flight attendants.
At 6:00pm we finally took off. It was all so eerily familiar - same plane, same crew, same passengers (minus the Marines) - but everything was so very different. We greeted our pilot with a standing ovation. A man brought long-stemmed white roses for each of the flight attendants. We were treated to complimentary champagne. We were singing and laughing and nervous. We were overwhelmingly thankful.
Our landing was smooth. As we approached the gate our pilot thanked us for our trust and drew our attention to the runway. The airport was still officially closed, so there was little activity. Looking out the windows we saw that the baggage handlers had lined up their vehicles, lights blazing, so that we had a private pathway to the gate. The handlers themselves were standing on top of the carts, waving American Flags. As we made our way from the plane we were met by a gathering of about 30 airline personnel - pilots, flight attendants, custodial staff, desk staff - crying, waving flags, and singing God Bless America. By that time we were all sobbing in each other's arms. I'm not sure if it was pure emotion or emotion tinged with Champagne, but it was a moment none of us will ever forget.
The rest of our trip was uneventful - sightseeing alternating with long hours by the TV - like the rest of the world, trying to absorb and make sense of the tragic events of 9/11. We arrived in Boston on schedule, and finally got to hug those who really matter.
Somehow, the fact that our plane was "targeted" leaked out to the press and for the next two days I was inundated with phone interviews. A TV crew arrived at the house, and I gave an interview that appeared on a news show that evening.
It’s been 19 years - it was a lifetime ago - it was yesterday.”
September 11, 2020