When 9/11 happened, I was working for British Petroleum whose headquarters was in London. In the afternoon on 9/11 I flew on a 1 ½ hour British Airline flight from London to Brussels for some business meetings. I had just gotten off the plane when I saw a news flash on the airport TV that a plane had hit one of the Trade Towers in New York City. Initially, the reporting seemed like it was a private aircraft. I immediately called my daughter who I thought was working at her company’s upper east side NYC office. She was actually in her Chicago office but had been in contact with her NYC colleagues. Her colleagues did not have to evacuate, as did my brother-in-law who was near the Wall Street area and had to walk 10 miles back to his home in Brooklyn. She also said it appeared to be a private small plane. As I watched the TV it was revealed that a large passenger jet hit the Trade Tower.
As I watched the TV, a second plane hit, and I knew it was a big problem. I immediately had this urge, which is hard to explain, to get back home. It never entered my mind to be concerned about flying since I flew almost every week to some place. I tried to book a flight from Brussel to London to fly back to Chicago to catch an American Airline flight but could only get an early morning next day flight on British Airlines. I called my colleague to cancel my Brussels meeting. My colleague seemed to be as concerned as I was and therefore understood why I couldn’t attend any meetings. I stayed up most of the night watching TV as events unfolded.
Once I got into London, I then tried to book a flight back to Chicago but at that point all planes were grounded. I booked myself into a hotel at Heathrow airport and continued trying to get on the next available flight to Chicago. Oddly, the hotel was filled with Americans trying to do the same thing as me. I stayed up most of the night trying to get on a flight to Chicago and watching the reporting about the attack. I was flying on American Airlines which was not only my company’s airline of choice, but since I have flown so much, I was in the top of their flyer status group. This allowed me to have a direct line to the “privileged class” customer service and therefore getting me priority on booking a flight. Despite all of that, I couldn’t get on a flight for three days. Even then, I could “only” get a coach seat, which to normal people was great, but to a “travel snob” who only flew business or first class, it was a downgrade. BUT I didn’t care, I just wanted to get home. When I finally boarded the plane, coach seating was filled with people like myself. I did feel sorry for those people who had regular coach seats on previously cancelled flights because they had very little status with American Airlines and had to wait in the back of the reservation line.
During the three-day wait, I only interfaced with fellow American business travelers who were at the hotel. We didn’t know much and only speculated. I didn’t sense any fear. Everyone was just fixated on getting back to America. No one left the hotel, which was a shuttle-bus ride from the airport terminal, since we were waiting to be contacted about what flight we could get onto, then get to the airport as soon as possible
As it turned out, I was on the first European flight to land at O’Hare. It was very eerie to fly over O’Hare and not see any planes on the runway. After going through Customs, again being the first people to go through Customs, I thought I would run into a lot of cameras and reporters, but it didn’t happen. I got a taxi, got home and felt I was back where I belonged.
Of course, my family was very glad I made it back home. As I look back, my mission became to get home, and I thought of nothing else. It wasn’t until I was home that I realized how paralyzed everything was and how scared everyone was.
