9/11 story (the first part)

Jenny was getting married in Chicago on September 15th, 2001. She had paid for my plane ticket when I didn’t think I could afford it (along with the hotel, and the two-hundred and twenty dollar bridesmaid’s dress). It was going to be a huge affair. She and her husband lived in Kansas, her parents lived in Texas, one of the other bridesmaids and I were in California, another was in New York, and the fourth one was in Seattle. There were East Coast relatives, and a few even flew in from Paris to be there.

She and her husband-to-be settled on Chicago as the location because it seemed the most central place for everyone. Besides, his parents lived there. The wedding party would be staying at the W Hotel, the wedding itself would be at an old and historic church (can’t recall the name now) and the reception was to be on the 67th floor of the Sears Tower. All the dresses had been tailored, the bachlorette party had been two weeks earlier (I should say, “bachlorette weekend” since it was three days up in Sonoma), and each of the bridesmaids had their responsibilities assigned. I was in charge of … gosh, maybe they didn’t put me in charge of anything… can’t always be trusted to remember things, you know.

I had taken Thursday and Friday off from school, to fly out before the wedding itself, and help with all the crazy, pre-wedding extravaganza.

I woke on Tuesday morning, when my clock radio went off at about 6:30 am. Something about a small plane flying into the Empire State Building.

Huh?

I turned on the TV just as the second tower went down, and Katie Couric kept her cool reporting it.

Early September is usually when we get our hottest weather, and the Santa Ana’s were blowing. It was already 80 degrees when I got to school that morning. Most of the classrooms had the televisions on. I remember going to the two vice-principals, and asking them to tell teachers not to show the news to students. Columbine was still fresh in my memory, and I remember thinking how inappropriate that we had teachers watching it as it unfolded in classrooms.

It was too late. Most of the students knew we’d been attacked, and that buildings had fallen down, but they (the boys, especially), were more into the crashing and burning aspect of the possible “bomb.”

That night I was on the phone for hours. I called several friends; Torn in Montreal, Kevin in Washington DC, but most of the calls were to Jenny. Of course, by that time, all flights were canceled. But for how long? Her father worked for American Airlines, and he had told Jenny that this was unprecedented. He said it could be up to a week. Jenny waffled back and forth between just postponing the wedding, flying straight to Jamaica (where they had planned their honeymoon), and getting married there (as soon as they could get on a plane), or going ahead with Chicago. After many phone calls, it was decided. The terrorists weren’t going to win, she was going to have her wedding, and show them they hadn’t stopped us.

However, there was a slight problem.

How would we all get there?

Well, Jenny and her husband packed up the car, and started driving. Her parents in Texas did the same, stopping along the way to pick up her older brother.

Mary, the bridesmaid in New York? Who, by the way, had an appointment at 10:15 that morning of September 11th, in the World Trade Center? Mary couldn’t come. New York was locked down tight. Cindy, the one in Seattle, was too freaked out to fly, and wasn’t going to make it. That left the maid of honor and me. Debbie lived in San Francisco, which sounded like it was going to be much more difficult to get out of than Santa Barbara.

Wednesday came and went, and all flights still canceled. Thursday, I went in to school for a half day, but it looked like my flight might leave. Of course, it had been delayed four hours, but it looked like it would happen.

I was the third person let into the airport when it reopened. I was there from 2 pm to 7:30 pm before they finally gave up and canceled my flight. I gave a young woman a ride back to her hotel; her flight hadn’t happened either.

Talked to Debbie, who also had had no luck in flying out; there’d been a scare at the SF airport, and so it was still totally closed down. Debbie said she was going to drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles (a 400+ mile drive) to get a flight out of LAX. I said I was just going to go to the airport early on Friday morning, and park myself until I got on a plane.

Although they were becoming more common, I prided myself for not having a cell phone. I thought they were pretentious and unnecessary. Very quickly I learned how valuable they were. At 9 am, I got on the almost empty flight to Phoenix, where I hoped I could make a connection. I had to use the payphone in the airport there to call Jenny. But, she was on the road, with a cell phone, but no service. The message I left told her that I was in Phoenix, but wasn’t sure which flight I would actually be on to get to Chicago. There was a good chance I’d be stranded too.

I tried calling Debbie, but couldn’t get ahold of her, and called my dad, who lives in Phoenix, to let him know he might have company if I couldn’t get a flight out. Each of these calls cost $3.00! Talk about using up change.

All this time, I hadn't let anything sink in. All my energy had been caught up with trying to get to Jenny's wedding. God bless her, my mother didn't say anything about her absolute terror at my flying so soon after the attacks. I just knew I had to get to the wedding. I had to be there for my friend. But still, at 2:30 on Friday afternoon, with the wedding less than 24 hours away, I wasn't sure I was going to make it.