Three Insights from my Delta flight to Newark on 9/11

On a beautiful Tuesday morning twenty years ago, I boarded a Delta flight from Atlanta to Newark. I had no idea I was embarking on a journey that I would still be talking about 20 years later.  

When I drove to the airport that morning, it felt like any other two-day business trip. I drove to Hartsfield and parked in my usual spot in the North Deck.  The sun was rising and it was a beautiful morning.

Once inside, I went to my boarding gate and spoke to the gate agent. My upgrade had not cleared and that was unusual for a Platinum Medallion on a Tuesday morning. A couple of businessmen standing nearby joked that I would have to sit at the back of the bus with them.

We boarded and I took my seat in an exit row window.  

Intuitively, I still felt as if somehow I would sit at the front of the plane.   

Just as the plane was about to push back, a flight attendant came to our exit row and said, “Ms. Elliott, we have a seat for you up front if you would like to gather your things and follow me.”  

I grabbed my briefcase and my roller board from the overhead bin and followed the attendant.

As I walked up the aisle, I passed two of the businessmen who had spoken to me in the boarding area. One teased me about me about being unable to spend two short hours in Coach.  The other laughed and called me “Princess.”

I quickly took my seat in 1D as we pushed back. 

Little did I know how well that bit of playful banter would serve me four hours later. 

I knew I was cutting it close by flying in on the morning of a Board meeting. I smiled as my plan was working perfectly and everything seemed to be running right on schedule.  

We approached Newark and went through the usual drill of stowing tray tables and returning seatbacks to their upright and locked position.  

I was feeling energized from two hours of coffee, Biscoff cookies and excitement for the day ahead.  

 After about five minutes, I noticed we were not descending and still not on final approach to Newark. We were clearly in a holding pattern in Newark airspace.  I watched as precious minutes ticked by while we did endless loops in the sunshine.

Now my ability to pull of this brilliant logistical plan was not looking so good.  

After what seemed like 20 minutes of circling, the pilot came on the P.A. and said, “Folks, no immediate mechanical problem, but we will be returning to Atlanta.  Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened.” 

I could hear the flight attendant call buttons ringing like sounds from a pinball machine.

These were the days of Airfone with handsets in seatbacks in Coach and in a compartment between seats in first class. I opened the compartment, swiped my Amex, punched in the number for my office in Atlanta.  I was fuming that I was going to miss my meeting for no apparent reason. 

Ed answered the office phone and the first words he spoke were, “Thank God you’re okay.” 

I barked back, “Of course, I’m okay.”  

And I proceeded to rant about missing the meeting in New Jersey. 

 Ed was calm but he interrupted me with a firm tone I had never heard him use.  

He said, “Annie, two planes have hit the World Trade Center.”  

I listened in shock and said aloud, “The World Trade Center?”  Passengers around me perked up and looked inquisitive. 

I continued to listen to Ed describe what had happened and tell me what they were watching unfold on television.  I was peering out the window of the aircraft I was sitting in but we were too far South to see anything in Manhattan.   

In the early 2000s, commercial airliners had GTE Airfone handsets mounted in seatbacks in every row.  However, despite the availability of handsets, there were only a few actual channels to the outside world.  That meant only a few of us could actually connect at one time. 

Many of the folks seated around me asked what I knew about The World Trade Center.  

When I relayed what Ed had told me about two commercial airliners hitting the towers, they were horrified.  This was no accident.  One man in the row behind me had been headed there to a meeting.  Another had friends who worked there. 

For the next hour, I grasped that old-fashioned handset like it was a lifeline. I kept Ed on the phone as a way of staying connected to someone familiar who was on the ground and offered me some reassurance that I might get there safely myself.  

I knew Airfone charged $3.99 per minute but comfort felt way more valuable than that.    

While I was talking to Ed, the third plane hit the Pentagon.  

I overheard the guy sitting next to me in 1C making a pact with the man in 1B that if anyone approached the cockpit door, they intended to intervene and stop them.  Everyone was nervously looking around at other passengers. 

About that time our pilot came on the P.A. again and made another announcement.  

He said, “Folks, by this time many of you know the situation.  We have been instructed to land in Charlotte and we should be on the ground momentarily.”

I felt the plane pick up speed knew we were flying South.  

I looked out the window and gasped as a military aircraft like an F-15 flying flew alongside and just behind us off our right wing. 

Were we in danger of being shot down? 

I relayed this update about our new plan for landing in Charlotte to Ed.  

Another colleague in the office, Jesse, began to work to secure me a rental car.  There were none.  

No cars were available at Hertz or any other agency so the guys got creative and rented me a U-Haul.  

Minutes later, I breathed a sigh of relief as the wheels touched down at Charlotte Douglas airport.

I was not prepared for an excruciating wait of three hours on the tarmac as 40 plus planes had quickly descended and now there were no gates available. 

After what seemed like eternity, we finally got to a gate and deplaned into a chaotic scene inside. Restaurants and bars were packed with people watching TVs with the same footage played over and over as first one plane hit the tower and then a second. 

As I stood seeing it on TV for the first time, an alarm sounded and an automated voice said to leave the airport immediately.  I heard someone mumble that there had been a bomb threat. Travelers went running for the exits in fear. 

Outside the airport, it was completely chaotic curbside.  Intuitively, I sensed I should walk over to Hertz and at least see what was going on there before trying to find my U-Haul.   

I walked in the sunshine just grateful to be on the ground and having no idea what the next few hours would hold.  

Insight #1:

Intuition is a superpower.

If you sense an intuitive nudge, follow it. 

The Hertz lot was chaotic. The Gold Booth had a line a mile long and the lot itself was completely empty of cars.  

I watched as one unknowing traveler drove through the Hertz gate thinking he would return his car and go to the terminal. He clearly had not been watching the morning news and knew nothing of what was happening in New York or that all flights were cancelled and planes were grounded.  

An unruly mob of customers and Hertz employees descended on his car as he entered the lot.  

Over near the main office, I saw one man in a suit with a wad of cash trying to buy the personal vehicle of a Hertz employee. I sensed a new level of pandemonium and fear.  

We seemed to be teetering on the brink of civil disobedience at Hertz and I felt like it was time for me to leave. 

As I stood plotting my next steps to get to U-Haul, I spotted one of the men from the boarding area at Hartsfield who I had joked with five hours ago in Atlanta before this whole ordeal began.

John recognized me and said one of the other passengers from our flight was at an off airport rental car company.  

He said if Mark was able to secure a car, I might be able to ride with them back to Atlanta.

My mother had always told me not to get into a car with strange men but I figured today would be a worthy exception. 

Insight #2:

Humor, shared laughs and camaraderie often produce unexpected benefits

John’s cell phone rang and Mark had indeed been able to get a car.  

He confirmed he already had one other passenger but there was a spot for me.  He drove over to the Hertz lot to pick us up and we cautioned him not to enter the lot.  Things had deteriorated further and we did not want to add any unnecessary risk.  

 The car Mark had secured was a sub-compact.  We had too much luggage for the trunk so my roller board served as an uncomfortable armrest between me and the other passenger, John, in the back seat.  

Mark advised us we would make one stop for food and a bathroom at a nearby Wendy’s and then we would not stop again until we were back in Atlanta.  That meant four straight hours without a potty break.  

I prayed my bladder would cooperate. 

Besides being squeezed into the back of a sub compact with my knees digging into Chuck, the passenger riding in front of me, I was in a position to see the car’s speedometer.  Mark received calls on his cell phone about every 30 minutes from his anxious wife.  She was eager for him to get home and he responded by driving faster, reaching speeds over 100 miles per hour based on what I could see from my angle in the back seat.  

I kept reminding myself to stay in a place of gratitude and positivity despite being uncomfortable physically and emotionally.  

I thought how sadly ironic it would be if we had survived a potential terrorist threat only to die in an auto accident while speeding down I-85.  

My bladder cooperated and we finally reached Atlanta.  We drove through the city on the Downtown Connector which would have normally been bumper to bumper and barely crawling on a Tuesday afternoon. On this day, it was eerily empty.  You could have thrown a bowling ball down any lane and not hit a single car.  

Mark dropped us off near the airport so we could each retrieve our cars.  

We quickly exchanged business cards before saying goodbye. 

Hartsfield was teeming with military personnel.  I tried to walk to the parking deck and was stopped by someone in military fatigues toting a high-powered rifle.  The guy looked mystified when I showed him my boarding pass for a flight that had departed Hartsfield for Newark 12 hours earlier. 

My story was certainly unbelievable.

My phone had dozens of messages from friends and colleagues who knew I travelled and wondered where I was.  I met my friends, Greg and Caroline, for dinner at a favorite neighborhood spot.

In my purse, I had the business cards of the three men who had helped me get home.  Greg looked and actually knew one of them, John.  

So if you count a degree or two of separation, I guess I did not get into a car with strange men after all. 

Insight #3:

Receiving help often requires vulnerability, humility and trust.  

Other stories of bravery, heroism and selflessness will be shared on this anniversary.

Knowing many who lost loved ones, I am grateful for all the synchronicities, support and kindness I received that day and extremely grateful to be able to tell my story.