Playing with House Money
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was on board TWA flight 2, bound for Hawaii with a stop in St. Louis. The wheels of my plane left the runway of JFK airport at 08:45 AM. On the flight with me was my brother Jim at a window seat. Jim witnessed the plane crashing into the north tower of the World Trade Center moments after we were airborne.
About forty minutes into our flight, our plane slowed dramatically and lost altitude. The maneuver caused me to rise off my seat an inch or two and bump into the the back of the seat in front of me. Then the fasten seat belt sign came on. The Captain eventually announced we were being diverted to Dayton, Ohio due to a national emergency. That was the only announcement.
A somber flight attendant nodded her head yes in response to my question about whether our diversion was due to what we had witnessed taking off from New York. The flight attendant said she had no other information. Myself, my girlfriend Kate, and brother Jim concluded correctly there had been a terror attack. Now why were we being diverted?
Kate and Jim concluded all planes in flight must be landing — a notion I dismissed. I am a bit of a flight buff and knew there would be thousands of planes in flight early on a Tuesday morning. In fact, Jim and Kate were correct. It was a bold and courageous decision by Ben Sliney, the Federal Aviation Administration’s Operations Manager. And it was Ben’s first day on the job. Well done Ben!
However, I believed our plane must have some connection to the terrorist activity we witnessed upon take off. I thought very likely there could be a bomb on our plane. When Jim and Kate asked me what I though was going on, I simply said I did not know. Sometimes the better part of valor is to remain quiet. I then sat quietly and reflected.
I was fifty-two. My two daughters were grown and successful. My affairs were in order: I had no debt, some money in the bank and life insurance. I had lived a very productive life full of adventure and contribution. My only option at that point was to care for the people I was with. I turned to Jim and Kate and made small talk. I was not happy, but I was at peace. It was an extraordinary experience I think about often.
After we landed in Dayton we discovered the reason for our dramatic maneuver while airborne was our pilot was avoiding a mid-air collision with flight 93, the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania that day. Flight 93 took off from Newark airport following an east to west air corridor. Our flight fell in behind flight 93 which turned back toward us after being hijacked.
The ultimate irony here is I had just ended my twenty year career as a Firefighter and Lieutenant with the New York City Fire Department. I had been an officer in charge of Engine Company 5 in Manhattan’s East Village and September 11, 2001 would have been my next work day had I not chosen to retire. The officer that replaced me was among my 343 colleagues killed that day.
