How I Spent 9/11

I distinctly remember where I was two years ago today, September 11, 2001, when I first heard the news. I was on my way to Baltimore to begin a five-day vacation trip in Maryland, and at around 9:25 A.M., I boarded a bus to Newark, N.J. where I was to catch a train. I was going on Amtrak's Acela Express train - it was to be my first ride on it - and I'd been looking forward to the day.

Once I got on the bus, I heard a message come from the driver's two-way radio - "All buses bound for New York turn around immediately. New York has been closed down. Do not head for New York!" Not knowing what had happened, and given the recent rash of school shootings in America, I quickly assumed that there had been a Columbine-type massacre at the Port Authority Bus Terminal in midtown Manhattan. This was the worst I could imagine happening.

Shortly thereafter, an elderly woman got on the bus. "Did you hear?" she shouted at the driver. "A plane has hit the World Trade Center!"

"What, you mean a Piper plane?" I interjected incredulously.

"A jet!" she replied.

"A Lear jet?"

"An airliner!"

Of course, I thought it had been a horrible accident, and because the woman spoke in the singular person, I remained unaware of the second plane. As the bus went down a hill in Montclair, New Jersey, where there was a great view of Lower Manhattan, I saw the thick plume of smoke over the Twin Towers, and I naturally thought it was coming from only the North Tower. When I got to the train station, I called my mother to ask about what happened, she informed me of the second plane, and that's when I realized it was a terrorist attack.

My mother and I agreed that I should continue to Baltimore and get as far away from the New York area as possible. My train was delayed indefinitely, and I had to evacuate the station repeatedly in the wake of bomb threats. New Jersey Transit was very effective and thorough in accommodating rail travelers during the crisis, but Amtrak had shut down its ticket office and was providing no help for its customers. Newark's main railway station has no television sets, so I couldn't even find out what was going on in nearby Manhattan. Eventually I got on a southbound Amtrak Vermonter, hoping to hook up with the Acela in Philadelphia. On the way south, a passenger with a cell phone informed me of the Pentagon being hit and Baltimore - our mutual destination - being sealed off. Then he told me the that Twin Towers - both of them - had fallen.

Getting off at Philadelphia was not an option; Thirtieth Street Station was being evacuated, and I had nowhere else in the city to go. I continued southward and called my mother on the Railfone system. We both agreed that I had to get home. I got off at Wilmington, Delaware, where I waited two hours for an available rental car to drive home and got a refund for my Amtrak tickets. At a snack bar at the station, there was a TV set, where I saw the devastation in Lower Manhattan for the first time.

It was worse than I imagined.

I was able to drive home, avoiding the New Jersey Turnpike and opting instead to drive up eastern Pennsylvania to Interstate 80; I heard about the Shanksville crash on the radio. When I got home, my mother threw her arms around me in tears.

When I thought that only a single plane had hit the World Trade Center, and that it must have been an accident, I figured it had nothing to do with me, as I wasn't going anywhere near New York. As the day unfolded, though, I came to a horrible realization. As an American, I realized it had everything to do with me and everyone else in this country. And nothing would be quite the same ever again.

P.S. I made it to Maryland a month later - on the Acela - and took my trip as originally planned. I wasn't going to let the terrorists keep me from enjoying myself. One visit on my trip, though, was greatly serious. I visited the Antietam battlefield from the Civil War. The date the battle was fought - September 17, 1862 - is the only date where more Americans were killed than on 9/11.

Freedom isn't free . . ..