11. September 10th and 11th, 2001: Twin Towers/Pentagon

Be bold in what you stand for,
and careful in what you fall for.
—Ruth Boorstin

Little did I realize on September 10th the drastic changes that were about to unfold in my career and personal life as a result of my integrity and honesty as a pilot.

On September 10, 2001, I arrived late at night in Newark International Airport from Denver. I stayed at the Newark Hilton, since I was scheduled to fly to London on the next evening. Thunderstorms in the area were causing many New York City area inbound flight delays. I had already flown many holding patterns and almost diverted to Philadelphia at one point. I was exhausted from all of the tension and delays when I got to the Hilton. After requesting a room service meal and watching the late-night news, I requested a late checkout from the hotel. I needed a good night’s sleep, to be prepared for an all-night flight to London the next evening. I posted the “Do Not Disturb” sign on my door and hit the sack early.

A little past 8AM the next morning I was rudely awakened by “Housekeeping!” banging very hard on my door. I was surprised and dumfounded that any hotel staff would interrupt a guest at that early hour, especially housekeepers who knew better! BANG! BANG! BANG! The woman outside my door kept knocking loudly on my door and yelling “Housekeeping!”. I was upset that my sleep had been interrupted and finally yelled, “I’m sleeping… go away!” Out in the hallway I could hear other housekeepers frantically banging on doors. Why? I didn’t care at that moment. As I dozed off again, little did I realize that two commercial jet airplanes had flown into the Twin Towers just several miles away. Housekeeping was attempting to vacate the hotel for others.

Around 11AM I finally got out of bed. I tried to use the room phone to call a family member, but couldn’t get an outside line. I got my cellphone from the charger in the bathroom, yet I kept getting a busy signal when trying to call. I had about 20 voice messages. The first one from a family member kept saying: “Oh Dan, it’s so awful. It’s so awful. Are you alright?”, without giving any clue as to what was so awful. The second message was similar. My blood froze in my veins. I was certain that a family member has been involved in a car accident, or some sort of emergency.

I frantically kept trying to call a family member and finally reached my older sister. She was frantic while sobbing, “Isn’t it terrible? Isn’t it awful?” I finally asked, “What are you talking about?” I pleaded with her to assure me that no family member had died. She was astonished that I was clueless. “You don’t know?” She finally told me that two commercial jet airplanes had struck the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in Manhattan and that both had collapsed to the ground.

Dumbfounded, I stumbled to the window of my 17th floor room and tore the curtains open to view the New York City skyline. My stomach curdled in disbelief as I watched the huge volume of smoke billowing up from the south end of Manhattan where the Twin Towers once stood. My sister then told me that: “Another plane had struck the Pentagon. There’s a fourth one that’s crashed in a field in Pennsylvania!”

My stomach became even more ill when I realized that two of the airplanes belonged to American and two to United Airlines. Later I learned that American Airlines flight 11 crashed into the North Tower. United Airlines flight 175 crashed into the South Tower. American Airlines flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. United Airlines flight 93 crashed in a Pennsylvania field.

Like so many others, I believed that America was now under attack. I was even afraid that the entire New York City area would be leveled by a nuclear blast at any moment. My sister said that all flights had been grounded. The New Jersey Turnpike looked like a giant parking lot. I called the front desk to see if under the circumstances that I could keep my room for another day. They asked me to vacate the room as soon as possible, since it had already been booked by another guest.

I began shaving while watching the TV. My mind was racing while trying to decide where to go and what to do. Mayor Rudy Giuliani was describing how he had seen people jumping from the upper floors of the Twin Towers, even before they collapsed.

I learned from the news that the United Airlines airplane that crashed in Pennsylvania had originated from Newark. I decided to try going to the Newark airport to help staff in any way possible.

The hotel lobby was packed with people watching the news unfold on the TV in the bar. The front desk confirmed that the hotel van was still operating. I rushed out the door to catch a departing van. I was the only passenger trying to get to an airport. The female driver turned to me and said, “Honey, we’re not going to get anywhere near that airport. The roads have all been blocked.” I told her that I still wanted to give it a shot since I felt that I could be of assistance to United Airlines. Off we went as she agreed to do her best. The sky was crystal clear, yet I kept looking at the billowing smoke rising from where the Twin Towers once stood. That horrible image was difficult to believe.

Our progress came to a stop at the entrance ramp to Newark Airport. The road was blocked by snow removal equipment and armed soldiers. I grabbed my pilot uniform and airline photo ID and informed the soldiers that I had come to assist. We were waved through to the airport without any further questioning.

I noticed a small group of female United Airlines ticket agents huddled together and crying. As I approached them, several news camera crews ran towards us, hoping for an interview. I ran them off by aggressively waving my arms and shouting, “We do not wish to make any statements!”

The airport looked like a ghost town. Except for those critical to the accident response, all passengers and employees had been evacuated from the airport. Armed military stopped me at the entrance to the United Airlines concourse. A maintenance manager I knew vouched for me with security. I was then waved through to flight operations.

By now only a handful of pilots remained in flight operations. The FBI was questioning pilots who had taxied out earlier and actually saw the airplanes hit the Twin Towers. We were briefed that the crash response team was on their way from upper New England, but they were tied up in traffic on the freeway.

We learned that after an airplane accident, many next-of-kin would congregate at the departure airport to seek information about family members and friends. We were asked to stay and offer condolences and support for this terrible situation.

All afternoon we sat glued to the TV in the maintenance area adjacent to flight operations. After 6PM when no next-of-kin showed up, the FBI released us and we were free to go. They had arranged for hotel rooms for those of us needing a place to stay.

I decided that I would somehow find a way back to Atlanta, even though all flights were grounded nationwide. I headed to the front door of the abandoned terminal, since renting a car to drive to Atlanta was my first thought.

The concourse is usually buzzing with people checking in or arriving. It was an eerie feeling to be walking alone through the empty concourse to the vacant entrance and out the front door. The streets were empty. A lonely Port Authority police officer approached and asked me what I was doing there. I explained that I needed a taxi to drive me to a rental car facility. Lo and behold, a cab pulled right up to the curb.

Hopping inside the cab, I instructed the driver to take me to any rental car company nearby. He told me that all of them had been closed by some higher authority. I still wanted to try. After visiting Avis and Hertz, it became obvious that he was correct. He then suggested driving to the Union Station in downtown Newark where I could catch a train. I agreed.

He drove in bumper-to-bumper traffic for more than an hour. We finally arrived a few blocks from the train station where the traffic was gridlocked. The driver suggested that it would be faster if I walked the rest of the way. I paid him $50 and hurried down the busy street to the station.

There was massive rush-hour chaos in the train station. People were rushing to catch their trains. After twenty minutes in line, I explained to the female ticket agent that I needed a one-way ticket to Atlanta. My heart sank when she told me that the last train to Atlanta had just departed. Now what do I do? I then requested a ticket as far south of New York City as possible towards Atlanta. I was fearful about what disaster might happen next in the New Your City area. I just wanted to get out of town fast! I purchased a ticket to Charleston, South Carolina, that was leaving in five minutes and had to hurry. I ran as fast as I could to the train and just barely made it.

I was sitting in a seat on the right side as the train pulled out. I saw a beautiful heavenly sunset on that crystal clear evening when I looked West on the right. But when I looked left to the East, I saw the hellish scene of the huge smoke columns rising skyward on the south end of Manhattan where the Twin Towers once stood. This was a uniquely somber moment for me. It was as though I was between heaven on one side and hell on the other.

The train ride was long. Between Newark and Washington D.C., the train stopped several times for half an hour. They explained that railroad bridges were being inspected to ensure that we could pass safely.

A conductor asked for my ticket as we approached Washington D.C. and asked why I was going to Charleston. I explained that I really wanted to go to Atlanta, but had missed the train. He pulled out his radio and began chatting with the train engineer up front. After a brief conversation, he said, “Grab your suitcase and follow me.” I did, although I was uncertain about what was happening.

As I was following him, he turned and quietly informed me that the engineer had called ahead to the Atlanta-bound train. As a result, the Atlanta train was going to stop and wait for me at Crystal City in D.C., just so I could board! I was astounded and told him that this was not at all necessary, but he ignored me.

A golf cart was waiting for me at the bottom of the train stairs in the dark. As we drove forward past the engine, I saw the train engineer waving at me. I stood up to salute him and hollered, “YOU ARE MY HERO!!”

I arrived in Atlanta eighteen hours after leaving Newark. Mission accomplished. I reflected on how wonderful it was that everyone in the country was working as a team to help one another in any way possible.

After a disaster of this magnitude, it was clear to me that the various safety loopholes I had previously witnessed among colluding insiders, managers, union officials and Federal enforcers should never again be tolerated.

This renewed “Americans united” spirit gave me hope that something positive could evolve out of this tragedy. All of us could surely now work together to implement better airline safety solutions that would benefit everyone.

My hope was shattered over the coming years. I again had to realize that the Americans who could come together to implement better airline safety solutions were not willing to do so. They were about to engage in an authoritarian-enforced charade which was not safer for any of us.