The 9/11 stories of many
airline pilots are filled with first-hand accounts, as they
were in and among the goings-on of that horrific day. My
story is quite different, as I was one of the last people in
the world to learn of the events of 9/11.
At 11 p.m. PDT on 9/10/2001,
I boarded a United 747, setting out on what was to be a
three-week vacation around Australia. It was a wonderful
14-hour flight, if there ever is such a thing. Just prior to
landing, the captain included with his normal arrival
announcement that we may notice an increased security
presence around the airport, as there had been some sort of
terrorist activity in the United States. I looked curiously
at one of the flight attendants, who whispered to me that
there was not a single aircraft in the air over the United
States at that moment. Having heard some doozies from flight
attendants in my time, I took it with a grain of salt, yet I
became more curious. Nobody had mentioned what the
“terrorist activity” was at this point.
Upon arriving at the gate,
as each passenger passed the Australian CSR, along with a “G’day”
we were handed a sheet of paper with a statement that began,
“United confirms that two of its aircraft have crashed.”
What! Two? One in New York
and one in Pennsylvania? With still no explanation, I was
even more confused as I exited the aircraft. I wondered if
my friend Tom, who was already in Sydney and was to meet me
in baggage claim, had heard any of this.
Upon reaching the customs
area, I realized that in my confused state, I had left my
roll-aboard in the forward closet of the 747. After
explaining my way through heavily armed security, retrieving
my bag, and being the last to process through customs, I
found my friend Tom, who had the BIGGEST expression of
relief on his face. I had no idea why.
Tom told me that the World
Trade Center had been leveled by hijacked aircraft. Now, Tom
has always been a bit of a BS’er, and when I gave him a
doubtful look, he said, “No, look!” pointing over my
shoulder to a large TV monitor.
For a moment I felt as
though I had been dropped in the middle of a Tom Clancy
novel, but quickly the reality set in—the reality of all the
people who must have lost their lives. Were some of them
people I had known? Flown with? Loved?
About that time I was
approached by an Australian reporter who peppered me with
questions. I shared my astonishment with him but politely
said that I needed to find a phone to tell my parents I was
OK.
Tom and I spent the next
hours and most of the next few days popping in and out of
Internet cafes trying to learn more of the story. As it
turned out, gone were several fine folks with whom I had
worked.
One of the more personally
touching moments of those days came as we were heading to a
local attraction as a diversion. We passed a bank of pay
phones, and I asked Tom if he minded if I checked my
messages. I ended up standing there for almost an hour
listening to the most heart-warming sentiments, prayers, and
concerns that so many friends and family had left for me.
Many of the messages came from old friends with whom I
hadn’t communicated in years.
I ultimately decided that I
could not stay and vacation for the next few weeks, so I
listed myself on the first United flight headed back to the
States, three days after arriving in Australia.
After flying back and
getting into my car at Dulles, I turned on the local radio
station I always listened to. Rather than their normal
programming, they were airing continual updates and stories
of what had been going on for the past days. And that’s when
it all came down on me like a ton of bricks. It was no
longer something on a TV screen from across the globe. This
was real. This was local. This was frightening. This was
personal. I sobbed most of the way home.
It wasn’t until seven hours
into our new reality that I found out about any of it, and
it took over three days before it really started to sink in,
but like everyone else, I would never be the same.
First Officer Rick Hayden, United |