Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering 9/11

I was in Dallas, TX, on the morning of September 11, 2001, attending technical training on a new fiber communications system our company had recently purchased. The rumors started circulating about an aircraft having crashed into a building in New York City. We heard that it was a cargo aircraft. The class went on, but attendance started dwindling and our attention was being drawn to the only small TV set at the training facility.

By mid-morning we knew what was going on. It was all over the TV. I don’t recall fear, but I did have a sense of calm uncertainty. Somehow, I knew God had this under control and that everything would work out according to His will. I just wasn’t sure how it would all play out or how I would get back to my family in Chattanooga.

Interestingly, one of my friends, who was in our group, and I had visited over the previous weekend the site of another national tragedy, the assassination of President John Kennedy. If we had any doubts that a lone gunman could have killed Kennedy, they were erased on that visit. The guy had a clear field of vision, and his target was about 30 yards away. Conspiracy theories notwithstanding, it was no problem for a skilled marksman. But, I digress.

Back in those days I did not carry a cell phone, so the calling card was the only option. I remember calling my supervisor back in Chattanooga. We spoke for a few moments. He indicated that security measures were being ramped up, especially at the nuclear plants, but we had to keep our noses to the grindstone and do our jobs. What else could he say?

I’m not sure we learned much about fiber communications for the rest of the day, but we went through the motions. What drove it home for us was going outside on break and seeing no contrails in the sky. Some people were crying because they had obviously lost friends and acquaintances in the World Trade Center. We heard about folks on our company Trading Floor who had been on the phone doing business with people in the Trade Center at the time of the impacts. Some escaped. Many died.

The first contact from home was a voice mail on my hotel phone from our daughter, Ginger. She wanted me to come home. My first call home was to my wife, and we had a nice conversation. I told her we would get back home after the training was over, but at that point I had no idea how that would happen. One of the guys in our group had driven his pickup truck to Dallas, so he offered to take the rest of us back to Chattanooga when the time came. Five guys in a pickup for 1200 miles? Hmmmm.

The rest of the week went on pretty normally with the exception of the incessant reruns of the buildings coming down. In a way it reminded me of watching a Titanic movie. You hope for a different outcome, but the ship always sinks in the end. At that point we knew that a lot of ships were going to sink for a very long time.

There were some discussions about who we were going to “nuke” or where we were going to create a new parking lot, but most of the images on TV looked like somebody had already done that. Next option.

With people camped out at Dallas Fort Worth Airport waiting for the resumption of flights we decided we were going to drive. The rental car company (Avis) graciously allowed us to take one of their rentals to “wherever we needed to go” with no drop charge.

Finally, Friday arrived and we cut out early. With light traffic on the road (and some heavy foots on the pedal) we made it back to Chattanooga before dark. And, the rest, as they say, is history.