Traveling in the Aftermath of 9/11/01

My father, who travels extensively for work, wrote this piece about flying immediately after the airspace over the United States was opened in the aftermath of September 11th, 2001. I thought it was an interesting perspective about how much things have changed in 10 years:

It is the sixth day after the world changed. I am holding tickets for a flight bound for Pittsburgh, then on to LA. It seems funny to say that destination out loud, as if people would look at me and wonder why I would do such a thing.

Portland Jetport looks like a ghost town. Like a Sunday morning in February when no one wants to come to Maine, and everyone who is smart is in a warmer part of the world. I am driven to the airport today by choice; I didn’t want to park my car in what seems like New Hampshire. I am often challenged by inconvenience when I travel, I thought it had reached its height, I am afraid I have seen nothing yet, and that I will finally learn to “care-less” about convenience and be more patient, which is a lesson that has eluded me. Inconvenience and aggravation seem like nothing when I look at the firefighters still picking through the rubble trying to stay hopeful.



Myself, Dad, and my brother John, father's day 2006



I wonder if the hijackers last Tuesday who went through Portland stood in line where I stand this morning. I wonder how they answered the security questions about packed luggage being in their possession at all times. I wonder if the ticket agent smiled at them, or said “good morning”, or “ have a nice day.” Did they put their luggage on the conveyor belt? Did they worry at all that they might be detected? Did they think at all that a “mechanical” could occur and they might not get to fulfill their mission in the coordinated planned way they intended? I have boarded that flight (maybe even the very plane) that carried them to Boston. I could have been on that plane, I wonder if I would have noticed them? I wonder how many times I brush across people who can commit such horrendous acts, perhaps narrowly escape my fate at the hands of people like them. I wonder how lucky I am sometimes to travel this much and keep returning home, frustrated and annoyed with the hassles of travel, but safe and sound to join the people who I love and love me.

We have taken off. I once asked a man sitting next to me on a flight how he was. He replied, “well, so far in my life, the number of take-offs has equaled the number of landings, so I guess I am ok” I hope my equation holds out this trip. I am glad today I am meeting Fred my colleague in Pittsburgh, to travel the rest of the distance to LA. I don’t want to be alone out here. Lately I have been reaching out for connections with others more, and today the need to that is very important and a source of comfort. It feels scary and unsafe away from my home and from Maine. Meeting someone when I get off this plane feels comforting.

We are over the Hudson River now. I look toward Manhattan, to see if I can catch a telltale sign of the destruction. I can see almost to New York City. While Maine is in my soul, New York is in my blood. I am sad about the people who are going through so much pain and tragedy. I am sad about those that died. I may know some of them. I may have gone to school with some, or if not with them, their fathers or mothers, cousins, spouses, co-workers, lovers or friends. I am sure of it. The odds are in my favor. As we cross the Adirondacks I recall that American Flight 11 made a turn here, perhaps in this exact air space, on its new flight path to destruction. There are about as many people on this smaller 737 that were on those larger planes. I wonder what I would have done if I were one of the passengers last Tuesday and been hijacked? Would I have been heroic, or a coward? Would I have acted with rage and anger or with passiveness, thinking a cooler head would help avert disaster? Would I have thought about calling my family, which seems like such an act of selfless love? Would I have prayed to a God I can hardly find these days? Would I have trembled? I hope I never have to find that out, but somehow all of this is possible now since last Tuesday.

I land in Pittsburgh and walk into an airport that seems empty. I check my watch – it is 3:10 P.M, not A.M. Where is everyone? Why am I here? I am often afraid in life, so is this another manifestation of my multiple mid-life crises – like diving with sharks? I have this sense that it can’t happen to me – but I thought that was true before being in the San Diego earthquake several years ago, or when I thought my father would not die. How often I walk around the world not knowing what will happen next – like those people who got on the hijacked planes or sat down at their desk in the World Trade Center last week before the Apocalypse. Why do I think I have so much time left, to do the things I want and need? Why do I continue to entertain meaningless activities even for 1 second? I have had this conversation with friends and in my head many times and although I am way better than I used to be at Seizing the Moment – I still act like it can’t happen to me and I have time to do all the things I want.

I see my colleague Fred at the gate. I am happy to see him and feel glad we are together. Fred had a dream he told me about once, that we were together during a nuclear war. In his dream we survived and hugged. I hug him now, that’s as much of his dream I want to come true.

We enter the empty plane to LA. I have NEVER been on flight that was so empty. Once again I wonder about the people who are not here – are they smart or scared? Am I dumb or brave? I still don’t know the answer.

Dinner is served with plastic knives, but with two forks. This makes no sense, forks – two of them- seem more able to inflict damage than a serrated butter knife. It makes no sense, but it makes us feel better that there are no knives on the plane. I reflect on all the tough talk of revenge and bombing and “leveling” Afghanistan. It makes no sense either, but it too makes us feel better. I hope the right questions get asked when our thirst for retaliation and striking out – which I understand – gets quenched. I hope “Where is Bin Laden” gets answered, so we can ask the more fundamental question “How have we as a country or a people become so hated in the world?”

“America should go back to work,” the President said. I don’t think the frequent fliers of the country heard him. The planes are empty, you can hear your shoes click on the airport floors, even at LAX; the hotel is 30% capacity. I fear we are in for a long difficult economic time. I wonder about the impact on our Firm and its business.

I sit at my first meeting with my client. I am back to work, President Bush. I work hard to put my heart in it. I think of all the people who have framed the work they do as “just a job”. It must be very difficult for them to “go back to work.” At least there is meaning for me in my work, and particularly now when the forces of hate and destruction seem to be winning – I find solace in the work we are doing with our client this morning. It is a direct challenge to the belief that there is only one “right way”, that there are no innocent people when I am waging a “holy war in the name of god”, that “what happened is god’s punishment for the abortionists, gays, and feminists”. It is good work even though sometimes I feel like it is futile. I feel sometimes like the firemen in NYC, searching, searching, hoping to find life...and not seeing enough of it as they pick through the debris.

We show a video about diversity to our client today in an education session. It is about diversity and made the point that diverse systems in the biological world like plants and ecosystems have a better chance of withstanding trauma and attack. I hope that is true of our country now and that we have a chance of withstanding the extraordinary violence done to us as a nation.

I am leaving LA now. They search my bag going through security and the guard removes a disposable razor. I haven’t cut myself in years with one of those. I know they are trying to make me feel secure – it’s not working.

I am landing in Maine now. My first of many trips with heightened anxiety. Each generation has defining moments in their lives. In my 58 years stunning world events have shaped how I see the world – assassinations of charismatic leaders, wars that made no sense, and now this. Maybe they are the events that will speed our evolution to a higher state of consciousness about what it means to be fully human. I hope so. I may even pray for it to be so.