9/11 remains deeply disturbing. Some days leaves scars; this day left unhealed wounds.
25 years is one of those big number anniversaries; a milestone number. We should probably feel this pain every year. But this year it is heightened. Maybe because the people currently, and hopefully temporarily, in the White House have used 9/11 to justify their war in Iran. There is no link. 9/11 gave birth to the US mantra of might is right.
Twenty four years ago – when this website was still a new born I wrote this:
“Where were you on September 11th?
10 September 2002
I remember only too well where I was as the attacks on America took place. I was at 1,000 feet turning right to start a circuit at Kissimmee Airport in Florida on my first and as it turned out only flying lesson.
I have always wanted to learn how to fly. I had the time. And I had enrolled in a Flying School in Florida. There were no backgrounds checks, not in those days. I provided my credit card details. The school booked accommodation and lessons.
The trip was fated from the start. Climbing out of Hong Kong on Continental’s non stop flight to Newark the plane had a cabin depressurisation at about 28,000 feet. It was eerie. It was quiet. It was not an explosive decompression. There was just a silence. The plane dived to a lower altitude. People (too slowly) put on their oxygen masks. But everything was working; there were no holes in the plane. The engines were still turning. We leveled off. The pilot (who had presumably changed his trousers and negotiated with ATC in Hong Kong and Guangzhou) advised that a valve had failed, that we would dump fuel for at least 75 minutes (we were meant to be flying over 16 hours non stop) and that we would return to HKG.
So United flew me to Orlando the following day.
Kissimmee was foggy on the Monday. The only flying was IFR. No use to me. My first lesson was booked for 9.00am on Tuesday 11 September. I walked out to the plane with my Norwegian instructor. We checked the plane. My mobile rang. I did not pick it up; I switched it off. Did not want the distraction. It turned out to be a friend calling form New York to warn me what was happening.
We taxi-ed to the end of Runway 15. Took off. Climbed and turned. And ATC tells all planes to land immediately as US airspace was now closed. He explains to another pilot on an open frequency that a plane has hit the world trade center.
We landed. Tied the little Cessna down. And went to watch TV in the lounge at the FBO. The room was full with instructors and want-to-be pilots; people taking multi-engine and commercial licenses. Everyone knew that the industry they loved would never be the same again.
The school was closed all week. All the Florida flying schools know each other and by the end of the week all were helping with records of past students.
That weekend a hurricane blew through Orlando. It was time to go home. The dream is postponed. Indeed the dream may even be cancelled. The magic of flying became a nightmare that day.
As I flew back through Newark on another stunning Autumn day this was the view from the airport – six days after the attack the fires were still burning and the smoke still hung over the city.
Let us hope that on tomorrow’s anniversary we can all mourn or reflect in peace.”
The world changed that day. A generation has grown up. 9/11 is passing into history. But it has left its scar on a more divided and angry world.
My worthwhile reading page has some links relating to 9/11 – all worthy of your time.