9/11: My Story

The days leading up to the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I was sure I wanted to block all the feelings that I had and hide from the media overload that was to ensue. Now at 8:08 am on the morning of the tenth anniversary, I feel that I need to share my story to record my memories for posterity with that hope that it is therapeutic for my soul.

I was a recent college graduate and working for Air France at Logan International Airport in Boston. It was a busy thankless job but I worked with some fantastic people. It was fast paced interesting, engaging and to me was like extreme people watching; which is something I enjoy greatly.

Airports are a place where you see the best and worst of humankind. The sadness of the departure, the joy of a long awaited hello, and the anxiety and excitement of waiting to fly out are all a part of experience that we got to watch daily as an observer.

Terminal C was a chaotic place during our work hours. Delta and United were based there. We worked closely with the Delta I-Team; given that they we were part of the Skyteam. We always set up a podium in the middle of the terminal with a line that would queue behind us for check-in. I always remember the strange questions that we’d get unrelated to Air France or Delta. Sometimes it was a “security” related question. We had been trained to defer those questions to the Massachusetts State Police but these were the times when anyone could go through security and hang out at the gate to watch their loved ones leave.

My “weekend” was Monday and Tuesday on the Air France schedule. I had been up late the night of September 10, 2001. I believe a friend and I went to the bar and had a few too many drinks. When I finally settled into the night in my small, cramped bedroom, I never thought a phone call would wake me the next morning.

I had my own phone line. The phone was mounted on the wall literally next to my head by my twin bed. There was a built in answering machine. On 9/11/2001 the phone rang and rang until it went to voicemail. It was shortly after 8:46 am. Mom left a message to say turn on the news, a plane had just hit the World Trade Center.....

In a confused haze of sleepiness, I sat up and assumed that a plane had a bad takeoff or landing and Boston and hit our World Trade Center. To my surprise when I turned on the TV, I saw the replay of American Airlines Flight 11 crashing into the North Tower in New York. I hurriedly returned my mother’s call to get some base as to what was happening. No one seemed to have a clue as to what was going on at the time. I let her go to only to witness United Flight 175 moments later rocket into the South Tower.

With horror, I setup my laptop and plunked myself in front of the television. For the rest of the day I scoured internet for information...nothing. I remember spending most of the day relaying the news from live TV to friends who did not have access to the TV at the time. Most were at school or work when it all went down. I specifically remember talking in length to my friend Matt Brady; who was working the UMass Radio station and feeding live news updates to him as the towers fell.

I also recall talking to my friend Michael. He lives in Manhattan. His personal description of the scene from his own eyes, peering out his window was just too much to take. I truly felt the agony in his few words.

A horrible panic consumed me as the Towers fell. I felt compelled to go into work at Logan and tried to call. The lines kept ringing. Later in the day my coworker and friend James gave me a call. The basic message that I recall was that they were required to account for all employees and to stay put.

The Day After.

The day after, I had to return to work. The airport was closed to the public. I took the commuter rail out of Needham, to the Orange Line at Back Bay, to the Blue Line at State Street and finally to the Airport stop in East Boston. The shuttle terminal buses would only allow employees with Massport ID cards to board. They took us to Terminal A and we had to walk from there to where we needed to go. In my case that was a long, windy walk to Terminal D, where our office was located at the time.

The feeling that day was heavy, confused, and lost. It only intensified more as I walked from Terminal A to C. Here was a vibrant airport that was normally filled with life and emotion that was now silent. It was dead. When I crossed over the abandoned area where lines would queue to check-in for United Airlines flights, I had a moment of panic. This was where those who were on United 175 lined-up, checked-in, and departed for their gate. It was merely 150 or so feet from where we set-up our podium every day.

The entire week at the office, we sat around as if Air France wanted to justify paying our salaries. We had meetings at the end of business that really had nothing to do with anything relevant from what I remember. I recall we actually had one big meeting in the hotel across the way, with other airlines. I believe that it was hosted by the state police about security and such.

Anyways, most of the days that week were spent closely with my fellow co-workers. I remember spending countless hours watching the cars being towed out of central parking by countless tow trucks. The order was made to take them all out to Suffolk Downs. Denise and I would smoke cigarettes and talk about life and the grief we felt those days. I will never forget.

And I pause, as I write this it hits 8:46 am. 10 years after the plane struck the North Tower.

Just a few weeks after 9/11, many of us were told that we would lose our jobs. My day fell on my birthday. On October 12, I was to personally escort Ringo Starr and his wife off the arrival from CDG-Paris. I decided that was my last day.

History continued to roll for me that year. A few months later, brought my girlfriend at the time to the airport to fly home to Sweden for Christmas. As she was leaving, I lingered around because the place became mobbed with State Police and news crews. This was December 21, 2001. A flight containing failed shoe-bomber Richard Reid was diverted to Boston. It wasn’t until I got home and found out the magnitude of what I had just experienced.

This brings me to June of 2002. I visited NYC with my girlfriend, our friend Emma and my girlfriend’s sister who was visiting from Sweden. We headed down to the WTC site and viewed the craters that remained. On thee plywood boardwalk leading up to the viewing point there were pictures of love ones lost and missing. I remember the overwhelming feeling of grief that hit me as I began to cry like I had never before. I still feel that pain for others and will always carry that burden.

I didn’t want to sit here on the 10th anniversary and be submerged in the media dramatization and relive the feelings that I have done so well to keep at bay. I would have likely done so if it were not for going to see The 9/11 Effect, a theatrical production put on at Merrimack College’s Rogers Center on September 9, 2011. The story was put together by the Merrimack Community on their experiences from the events caused by 9/11. It was well done, moving and heartfelt. It exposed me to the rawness of others 9/11 experiences and compelled me to write my memories down.

September 10, 2011. I arrive at Logan International’s Terminal C at 6:30 am. I have minutes to check in and pass security. The terminal has changed so much since 2001. It’s now the main terminal for Jet Blue. United Airlines is still right where it was when the United 175 passengers, crew and terrorists checked in. It was a completely different place yet still felt the same. As I waited in the queue, I noticed three Muslim women. They were wearing a  all black and completely veiled with only a space for their eyes to peer out. While this isn’t a normal sight for me to see then or now, I couldn’t help but feel for what the terrorists have inadvertently put them through and also the anxiety that lingered in the back of my mind because of their actions.

So as I close out my trip to Fort Lauderdale, FL over the weekend of the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I find it fitting that I must change planes at JFK International Airport in New York City. It really hit home when the captain announced that two of the flight attendants were retired New York City firefighters who served during the events of 9/11 at the World Trade Center site. I think this in itself has helped bring a bit of closure and peace of mind to my 9/11 experiences over the past ten years.

So much has happened to us as a Nation since those days. I was a young at the time. We lost our innocence as a generation that day. We lost it as a Nation. We have gone into two wars and have lost thousands of more Americans. We have gone through growing pains as a Nation too. We became more proud and patriotic and at the same time endured further bouts of racism passed onto our own Muslim people. We have become “hated” by Europe and more so by the rest of the world for our passion, determination, resolve and sometimes arrogance and self righteousness.

The moral of the story is not about race, religion, or nationality. All religions, at their roots, are peaceful and advocate doing the right thing and being a good human being. People pervert religion, politics and nationalistic ideals. We need to continue to have faith and work together to help prevent events like this from happening here or anywhere in the world.