I was a captain on the regional jet at the time, based in
Cleveland. We had an early morning departure from Grand
Rapids, Mich., to LaGuardia, N.Y. It was one of those
mornings where there wasn’t a cloud or bump in the
sky—perfect. It was day four of a four-day trip and all we
had to do was go to N.Y. then back to Cleveland and were
finished. We were en route hearing the normal radio chatter.
Cleveland Center was trying to reach a United 93 flight as
we were passing over Ohio and Pennsylvania. Not anything
new, and it still happens every day I fly. Sometimes the
controller gives the wrong frequency or we hear it wrong—eh,
they’ll find him.
We finished our corn flakes
and muffin and started our “in range” (45 minutes out) stuff
we needed to do. Sent a message to our operations giving
them an ETA, getting weather for N.Y., setting the radios
and such up for the approach, same routine stuff we do every
day. The weather for N.Y. was nice, just a thin low layer of
clouds probably left over from the morning fog. After
reading the weather, I looked out the window ahead to take a
look. We were still 100 miles from N.Y., but on a clear
sunny day it can be seen easily. I mentioned to my first
officer to take a look at something that was very cool that
you don’t see very often. There was the low overcast like a
thin blanket covering the city. None of the buildings were
visible except two. The entire coast was covered and the
twin towers were standing tall and strong up through the
fog. They were the only things we could see. Within the next
30 minutes, the clouds were gone and it was one of the
bluest skies I could remember.
We landed and parked the
plane at 8:35 a.m. I jumped out and headed downstairs to get
the paperwork for the next flight to Cleveland. As I looked
it over I asked the Ops guy if there are any delays getting
out of here—big mistake! He said all traffic had been
stopped (before he finishes, I think: “Figures, not a cloud
in the sky and N.Y. stops the traffic, I want to go home!”);
an aircraft just hit the World Trade Center. Dumb-ass Cessna
pilot, and on a perfectly clear day, too. Probably trying to
impress his girlfriend and got too close. He turned on the
TV downstairs and as the first reports and video were coming
in, I see right away that it was no Cessna. Like everyone
else in the country, we had 100 emotions going through our
minds—disbelief, denial, fear, sadness—just to name a few.
It wasn’t until the second tower was hit that the shit
really started hitting the fan. We were told that the
airport was being evacuated. The cops were even taking all
the public trash cans outside, just in case. As I’m walking
with my crew and the Ops guy he says that one of the towers
is gone. Gone? What do you mean gone? As simple as he put
it, I still didn’t know what he meant—how could it be gone?
Next thing I know we are standing next to a rental car lot
with another Continental mainline crew. I had managed to
finally get a call out on my cell phone to my Dad telling
him where I was and that I was OK. It took 15 minutes to get
a connection—can’t imagine why? No one knew where I was and
they usually don’t, since I wasn't going to spend the night
in N.Y. and was coming home today. He told me to be careful
and he would call Lori for me.
Since we didn’t seem like we
would be leaving anytime soon, my next call was to
Scheduling to see what they were going to do with us. They
said that all traffic across the United States had been
diverted and stopped, that was all they knew. I asked about
a hotel and the lady with a very sweet voice said, “I’m not
trying to sound cruel, but there isn’t a hotel room within
150 miles of N.Y. and if you can find one, get it,
and the Company will pay you back.” I’m still not sure to
this day why this popped in my head, but I asked her what
the inbound flight number was for the crew who was staying
overnight in LGA that night. She told me and we hung up.
Someone was looking after me that day. As I was hanging up,
I see the Continental captain starting to walk out in the
middle of the road right in front of a van, causing it to
stop.
It was the hotel van where
we stay here! It was empty and the captain said “I don’t
care where you are going or what you are doing, you are
taking all of us to the hotel!” I’ll never forget the look
on the driver’s hardened N.Y. face as he knew there was no
way he was getting out of this. It was beautiful and the
first time I had smiled since seeing the towers from the
air. The hotel was, to put it mildly, chaos. There must have
been 100 people standing around and every desk clerk had a
phone in each ear. When I finally got a chance to talk to
one, I proudly said that we were Continental Express Flight
2375 (the night flight) and we need our rooms.
After some key-punching, the
clerk said that flight doesn’t come in until 10 p.m.! Well,
you are under contract, we are that flight, and we would
like our rooms. Thanks goes out to the mainline captain for
showing me how to get things done in N.Y.! And to whoever
was looking out for me . . . The clerk said it would take a
couple of hours until they were ready, I could wait. Turns
out several crews were there and in fact, an ATA 767 crew of
26 was given only three rooms to share. I decided to
compromise and bunk with the first officer, letting the
flight attendant have her own room. Later that night we all
got rooms. I remember a guy who wanted to stay longer
because his flight had been canceled and he had nowhere to
go. The clerk apologized, saying there was nothing he could
do; I still don’t know what he did.
We were in Queens, which is
across the river from Manhattan. For the next four days we
were there with no place to go. My room had six channels,
all of which had news coverage 24/7. I could only watch for
so long. I opened my drapes to see the smoke from Ground
Zero covering much of my view, there’s only so much of that
you can take as well. One of the worst things was you didn’t
know if there was going to be another attack. Did they put
poison in the water? Will they put something in the air? If
fear is what they wanted to accomplish, they did.
On normal nights at that
hotel, there are planes landing and taking off all day and
night but you get used to it. Back then, about every hour or
so, all you heard was a fighter jet screaming overhead just
as I was about to fall asleep again. Then it was gone. We
finally get the news after four days that the airport has
reopened and we are going back to Cleveland. I made it home
on the 15th, just in time for my son’s first birthday party.
I was to start another trip on the 16th and did. I learned
and grew up a lot in that week.
It put priories where they
needed to be and made me understand what is really important
in life. This is a day I will never forget and hope our
children will never have to live through. I know that
everyone has a story about where they were, and this is
mine. I talked to other crews who got stuck in Cancun or San
Juan, lucky bastards! I don’t think, looking back now, that
I would have traded with them, though. It gave me a greater
appreciation for what the people in N.Y. went though and
maybe a different outlook on friends, family, and life.
Thanks for putting up with
this novel, it was more than I was planning on writing. I
wanted to write it down before I forgot it, but I don’t
think I or anyone will.
First Officer Troy Holladay, Continental |