My 9/11 experience

I’m certain that today every American who was an adult on 9/11 remembers what he or she was doing during the terrorist attacks.

This past 9/11, as in recent years, the media has been full of personal individual remembrances, many of which continue to be poignant and tear-jerking. I’m not competing with those people, but I thought I would review my own experience on that fateful day, which was eventful but not particularly sad.

In September of that year, a Washington, D.C. journalism organization awarded fellowships to about 20 or so reporters from around the nation, all expenses paid. We were flown to the capital, put up in a top hotel and had plans to attend several days of seminars and talks from mid-level government employees.

At the time I was the editor and publisher of the monthly Veterans Reporter newspaper, and hosted several radio interview shows, all of the above in Southern Nevada. I notified the D.C. office of Rep. Shelley Berkley when I would be in D.C., and I was connected to her veterans’ liaison. I had a professional relationship with Berkley, whom I had interviewed many times, and I wanted to discuss veterans’ issues with her associate. (Of course today she is the Las Vegas mayor.)

The veterans’ liaison (whose name I’ve long since forgotten) suggested we meet for dinner the night of Sept. 10. He thought I would enjoy an eatery called Thai Roma, a blend of Thai and Italian nourishment as the name implies.

That night we did indeed meet and had a lively discussion about veterans’ issues, military topics and a few other scattered thoughts. We agreed to meet again when he visited Las Vegas.

The next morning the initial speaker began her introduction when somebody burst into the room and told us to turn on the projection television aimed at a large screen in the front of the room. The first airplane had crashed into one of the twin towers, and we all sat quietly transfixed, listening to a news reporter give what details he could. Like the rest of the nation, we all felt the crash was probably a one-off, a pilot who had lost his way. Then came the second crash. All at once the reporters who worked for daily newspapers (which comprised most of them), jumped from their seats and made a mad dash for the door so they could call their editors and ask for assignments. The seminar was concluded for the day, and then before long, a third plane hurtled into the Pentagon and another into a field in Shanksville, Penn.

I left the venue and began walking the neighborhood. Virtually all the retail shops were closed. A few coffee shops were still open and were filled with groups of residents discussing the situation. As darkness set in I joined colleagues in the hotel restaurant, and couldn’t help but notice a few guests walking in with copies of the Washington Post newspaper, hot off the press. I inquired where they had purchased them and was told that the Post was a few walking blocks away. I hurried over and found a Post employee in front of the building selling newspapers as fast as he could. If it were a movie he’d be shouting “Extra, extra, read all about it!” I purchased two copies and rushed back to the hotel to read what news had been reported on such short notice. I did read one important bit of news: Amtrak had agreed to accept valid airline tickets in lieu of train fare.

The following morning a few of the seminar participants showed up at the meeting, where we were told that it would be our last gratis night at the hotel. The remaining meetings were canceled and we were on our own. We did have our paid-for round-trip tickets, but we learned that all flights were under orders to safely land immediately.

Dragging my two packed suitcases behind me, the next morning I took a cab to Union Station to see about catching a train to Nevada. The place was overflowing with people who had tickets, and many like myself who were ticket-less except for my airline ducat. I approached the ticket window and asked if there were any seats to Las Vegas, and if so, could I use my airline fare. The news was not half-bad. Yes, I was told, the ticket was good. But at the moment all seats were sold. However he gave me some advice that turned out to be worth its weight in gold, or at least the cost of a ticket. He said I should attempt to call the station between 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. That’s when people who decided to cancel their reservations tended to call in, and I’d have the best chance of getting a seat! Now all I had to do was figure out where I was going to stay that evening, and have access to a working phone in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, I had a plan. An old friend of mine, Herb Brubaker, a former network TV anchor who had started a broadcasting school (where I had taken some of his classes in the past), lived in nearby Rockville, Md. All it took was a quick phone call and he invited me to take the commuter train and stay with him and his wife. Once there, I explained the situation about the nighttime phone call to Amtrak, and he saw no problem. He set me up on the couch in the living room, next to the dial phone, and gave me an alarm clock. I don’t recall what time I began dialing, but it was late and initially the line was constantly busy. I must have dialed and received 100 or more busy signals. Then, a miracle. A man answered and took my reservation.

Herb was elated with the news, and agreed to drive me to Union Station in time to catch the train. This he did and we parted company.

Now if readers are paying attention, all are wondering how I was planning to take the train to Las Vegas when Las Vegas has no train station. The way it worked was I switched trains in Chicago, then rode to Needles, Calif. where Amtrak had a bus waiting, which took me, and a few others, to Las Vegas. I had phoned in advance and had my then father-in-law waiting to drive me home.

I learned later that five of the terrorists had earlier visited Las Vegas for reasons unknown. My experience was not a sad one and my heart still tugs with the memory of those who lost loved ones. But whatever the situation, we must never forget. I won’t, and I realize more than ever that we must always stay vigilant.