SEPTEMBER 11, 2018 KENNETH E. HALL HOUSTON
It all started out as just another ordinary day. I really remember nothing special about it that would cause it to stand out in any way in my memory.
My hotel room phone rang at the appointed time, and I was already up and getting ready for my flight back to Houston. Our crew bus came to pick us as usual, and we had an ordinary drive up to Charles de Gaulle Airport, where our plane was on time and pretty near full.
Boarding went well - again, nothing out of the ordinary. There was a nice lady in Business First who was a bit chatty, and after all the rush of boarding had died down, we talked a while.
We were running a bit late... that was nothing strange, especially for Paris. There was always one late-arriving passenger or two, one last load of freight or baggage for the cargo hold, some paperwork the pilots had to complete - the usual. But the delay lasted quite a bit longer than the usual ten minutes. We were told it was some sort of "security" hold.
One French gentleman in Business First was a bit jovial about it all: "What happened? Did the Captain order out for pizza?"
Of course, me, being my usual jokester self, I answered him in the same jovial vein: "Yes! Would you like some, too?"
Now, French people ordinarily have a good sense of humor. They love a good blague or gag, and they are usually a pleasant lot, but there's always one or two who eat gunpowder for breakfast, or have the sense of humor of a pre-cooked escargot. The man next to my pizza-lover snapped at me: "You know, SOME of us might just have connections to make!"
That snide remark was un-called-for, so I did not grace it with a response. I just walked away without showing a reaction.
The security delay over, we took off and headed east towards Houston - - - or so we thought.
We finished up the first meal and beverage service and had just finished picking up. My next task was to report to our International Service Manager and we would do our in-flight Duty-Free service. I was just about to do that when a gentleman from Mexico asked me in Spanish about our our new Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA) in Houston. He had a flight to Mexico City to connect with.
I replied that I did not know, and that I did not hear the new time - and that was strange. I bid him wait a minute while I call the flight deck and ask, which I did. Our First Officer answered and after I asked him about our arrival, he said, in a lowered, subdued voice: "Ken, I think you'd better come up to the cockpit. There's something going on."
I hung up the phone, a bit perplexed, and told the gentleman that they were still working on it and that I'd get back with him in a little while. My next task was to see what in the world the First Officer was talking about. Then I'd do Duty Free, and then have a bite to eat. That was my plan.
It was the last routine thing I did for some time to come.
I gained access to the flight deck and Steve tells me to have a seat: "Kenny, you aren't going to believe what's happening!" He explained: "There's been an airplane crash over New York City. We're getting the news from a radio station in Dublin. Seems the plane hit the World Trade Center!"
"Naww," I told him, "That just doesn't happen... What was it, anyway, a Cessna?"
"They don't know what sort of a plane it was - just that it hit the building..."
"Crap!" I exclaimed, thinking about all those people sitting in traffic in the streets below getting pelted with airplane debris and glass from the building. "Somebody's liable to get killed!'
I asked them to let me know what develops, and that I'd be back just after doing Duty Free Sales.
I did my duty and checked on my crewmembers in the back. I told them something funny was going on in New York City -- that there had been some sort of a plane crash, and that I'd be in the cockpit for awhile so I could figure out what was happening."
They looked at me sort of annoyed. Why annoyed? I had no idea at the time, but I left.
I returned to the flight deck, and closed the doors. There was more bad news: ANOTHER PLANE had crashed, so at first the speculation was that it was a midair collision. Imagine: a MIDAIR COLLISION over New York City!!! Oh my God!
Reports now were coming in fast and furious - about both towers getting hit by TWO SEPARATE AIRPLANES, and that they were LARGE, COMMERCIAL airliners --- FULL OF PEOPLE!! And it was getting worse: Airplanes - plural - were being hijacked - one out of Pittsburgh, one our of Philadelphia another they thought out of Boston.... There was a rumor of some Senators being kidnapped - another airliner was thought to have crashed somewhere else.
Then the Pentagon gets hit!!! The friggin PENTAGON gets hit!!! Next thing I hear is that the President is heading to the bunker!
We knew then that we were at war.
Our Captain hadn't said much up to now, but it was clear he was very concerned. All became quiet in the cockpit, and the lights were dimmed to low. The Captain was trying to raise someone on the radio, and was frustrated because of a lack of response.
This next few minutes I will never forget: The Captain was trying to call Houston Operations, and up till now was getting no response. He got one now.
He slowly lowered his headset and said: "Get this: They've just CLOSED NORTH AMERICAN AIRSPACE............NOW where do we go??"
The HAIR stood up on the back of my neck. Here we were, in a plane; flying 35,000' above the mid-Atlantic - and we had NO PLACE TO GO!!
I looked out of the cockpit window and got another sight to behold: We were not alone! There were four other large commercial passenger planes flying alongside of us ... in échelon!!! We were a part of a flight of five full-sized airliners, flying in military formation! This was something none of us had ever seen before, and more than likely would never see again.
The next few minutes were spent calculating fuel, and awaiting instructions as to where we should, would, or COULD land. There was talk of Gander, Newfoundland, Goose Bay, Labrador and the like, but I told the captain that those small towns were not equipped to handle large airliners full of people such as ours. If we had enough fuel, Paris would be the best location to land. The Captain agreed and requested we return to Paris.
I looked out to my right at the échelon formation to see the airliners peel off one-by-one, likewise returning to European cities to land. Now came the sad duty to inform the passengers about the disaster that was befalling our country. With all of our scurrying around, they KNEW something was sadly amiss.
I emerged from the flight deck to find some of my coworkers beginning to congregate just outside the cockpit door. The International Service Manager called a meeting, and decided to put the aircraft on lockdown. We would pass with soft drinks and coffee only - no liquor would be distributed. We would then position ourselves strategically so as to avoid commandeering of the aircraft by any potential hijackers that may be on board. Before heading into our tasks, we all stood in silent prayer together. Among the group was a Muslim, a Jew, and an Atheist - all three becoming my friends forever.
Back to work: I had my eye on a group of six Russian-speaking Chechens who were sitting in Business First. They were extremely excited and nervous since we took off, but there was nothing alarming in their demeanor to get me worried.
The nice lady with whom I spoke earlier stopped me and asked what was going on. I told her that I was not at liberty to say at the moment, but that we'd be making an announcement soon. She was very upset. She told me that her daughter, also on the flight, and with whom I had spoken during the service, was recently engaged to be married. Her fiancé worked on the 100th floor of the World Trade Center. She wanted to know what happened to the WTC - she had heard that there had been some sort of accident. I took her aside and tried as gently as I knew how, to inform her that "there was no more World Trade Center." She thanked me and then she went into the restroom for awhile.
The nasty French businessman looked at me as if I was the cause of all this, je ne sais quoi, so I stopped and told him, quite matter-of-factly: "Sir, you are going to miss your connection," and walked off without a further word.
Then came the announcement as to what happened and that we were returning to Paris. Immediately there was a minor riot in Business First as the previously-mentioned Chechen gentlemen were talking very loudly and gesturing wildly. They were most upset. One explained to me that they had no visas for France. I assured them that this was an irregular situation and that because of International Law, there would be no visa problems for them under these circumstances.
Other than that brief outburst, I have never seen a more quiet, subdued full flight in my 22 years of flying. Not a call-bell went off, and nobody made any requests for anything. I made special briefings to certain passengers who only spoke Spanish and Italian of our situation, not forgetting the gentleman from Mexico City.
We landed in the late evening back at Paris - Charles de Gaulle Airport. I opened the cabin door and there were French police there to meet the flight. They asked me where we were coming from. I replied seriously: "De ce qui reste des États-Unis." - from what is LEFT of the United States. I got the strongest look of sympathy I have ever seen on the face of another human being.
"Do not worry, monsieur," the police officer assured me in French, "You will be well-treated by us!"
We said our goodbyes to the passengers - and were escorted by several heavily-armed French police. I knew all of our bus drivers from having made so many trips back and forth to Paris, but tonight we had a new one, and he was highly agitated, jumping up and down in his seat like a kangaroo! He kept saying over and over: "Mais avez-vous vu les reportages?" Have you seen the news reports? I kept trying to explain that we have seen nothing, since we were in the air. I asked him to please put on the radio so I could hear the news, and he did so.
I was straining to hear over the engine noise and all the jibber-jabber in the bus from the crew, and I was concentrating so hard on listening g to the reports that I forgot it was in French. Everyone was asking me to translate what they were saying. We were all a bundle of nerves!
We were taken to a hotel in a different part of Paris - certainly not the one we were accustomed to staying. We pulled in front of the door of a multi-story modern structure. Standing in the front at the curb awaiting our arrival was the hotel manager, some assistant managers, and the head of hotel security. They assured us that we were safe and would be well-treated.
All I wanted to do was to get to my room, turn the TV on, and especially call home to tell my wife I was OK. I made it to my room, but learned that both the TV and the phone were broken!!! How frustrating that was!!! That was a first for all my travelling that such a thing happened. The technician arrived quickly, though, and got both apparatus up and running.
The TV turned on and the very first image I saw was that of a person falling down from a burning WTC building. Something sort of snapped inside me - this was wrong - this can't be happening - this isn't true! It can't be. It wasn't real. I changed the channel - the same horrible images came on the screen - only the languages changed - from English to French - to German - to Arabic - to Italian - and back to French.
I pulled myself away - I just had to call home!
I made attempt after attempt but it was no use - I could not complete my call. So I went to our crewroom upstairs. There were not just ours, but other air crews besides - and many people were crying or at least very upset. Some were drinking, others were talking and many wereglued to the TV set. Nobody was laughing or joking.
I couldn't take not being able to tell my wife I was OK. I returned to my room. With the TV droning in the background I made try after try after try - but to no avail. After nearly two hours of repeated efforts, I grabbed my wallet and went down to the front desk.
I was a mess - I was tired and upset and desperate. I went up to the desk clerk and pulled out $100.00 from my billfold and handed it to her. "This is for you if you can get a call through to my wife in the USA. "
She smiled at me sweetly and said: "sir, put away your money - I cannot help you - all the lines to America are down."
The rest of the evening and night was spent talking and commiserating with my coworkers. At about 3am I returned to my room to sleep - and there was a note under my door: "The company has notified your wife that you are safe."
I slept well after that.
The next couple of days were a blur - I ate very little and did not leave my room. I was very afraid that more things would happen - and they did. There was the Anthrax scare, Also, some guy attacked a Greyhound bus and slit the driver's throat and caused all the busses to cease operations.
I feared more major attacks by terrorists, or by local revolutionary groups, or by copycat cells, or just by crackpots - the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But nothing more happened.
Some of my crew knocked on my door, and one guy, Jim, said: "Ken, if you don't come out willingly, we will go in and take you out BODILY!" This was the only time I left my room - and we went to a nice Chinese restaurant.
The streets of Paris were strangely deserted and quiet. It was an eerie feeling about the place.
After a couple of days, things calmed down to where we were allowed to take off. Our flight was so full we had people sitting in our crew rest areas, I went up to the cockpit to say hi to the guys, and noticed that the skies were completely EMPTY! Not another plane - not even a contrail crossed the sky. I asked the Captain had he heard any chatter - anyone on the radio at all - like, other panes, etc. He just shook his head NO.
My wife met me at the airport, and we just hugged each other for what seemed like a half-hour.
She told me that on the first day of the attacks, our daughter had been frantic at first because I had been on Flight 10, the number of one of the hijacked planes.
It was so good to be back home. On our way, I noticed the ordinarily annoying, antagonistic Houston traffic was subdued and mellow. Not a plane or helicopter flew overhead.
Just before we got to our exit, the last thing I remember seeing was a man standing atop the overpass waving a large American flag.
THAT meant home to me.
EPILOGUE:
The next day I had some trips to Mexico. People were antsy and one passenger even walked off a flight, causing us to evacuate the aircraft for fear he may have left a bomb or weapon on board.
My last flight to Monterrey, I bought a small U.S. flag and stuck the little flagpole in my lapel. It was not regulation - not part of my uniform - but I would not take it off. "Let them TAKE it!" I told a coworker who told me I might get in trouble. (I didn't.)
As we were boarding in Monterrey, a well-dressed American who was boarding saw my flag, and asked if he could touch it. When I willingly agreed and he did, he began to sob. That was another moment I will never forget.
Almost everyone who was alive back then remember exactly where they were and what they were doing on that fateful day.... the day when there were no more planes flying overhead, and above us was only sky.
The rest of the evening and night was spent talking and commiserating with my coworkers. At about 3am I returned to my room to sleep - and there was a note under my door: "The company has notified your wife that you are safe."
I slept well after that.
The next couple of days were a blur - I ate very little and did not leave my room. I was very afraid that more things would happen - and they did. There was the Anthrax scare, Also, some guy attacked a Greyhound bus and slit the driver's throat and caused all the busses to cease operations.
I feared more major attacks by terrorists, or by local revolutionary groups, or by copycat cells, or just by crackpots - the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But nothing more happened.
Some of my crew knocked on my door, and one guy, Jim, said: "Ken, if you don't come out willingly, we will go in and take you out BODILY!" This was the only time I left my room - and we went to a nice Chinese restaurant.
The streets of Paris were strangely deserted and quiet. It was an eerie feeling about the place.
After a couple of days, things calmed down to where we were allowed to take off. Our flight was so full we had people sitting in our crew rest areas, I went up to the cockpit to say hi to the guys, and noticed that the skies were completely EMPTY! Not another plane - not even a contrail crossed the sky. I asked the Captain had he heard any chatter - anyone on the radio at all - like, other panes, etc. He just shook his head NO.
My wife met me at the airport, and we just hugged each other for what seemed like a half-hour.
She told me that on the first day of the attacks, our daughter had been frantic at first because I had been on Flight 10, the number of one of the hijacked planes.
It was so good to be back home. On our way, I noticed the ordinarily annoying, antagonistic Houston traffic was subdued and mellow. Not a plane or helicopter flew overhead.
Just before we got to our exit, the last thing I remember seeing was a man standing atop the overpass waving a large American flag.
THAT meant home to me.
EPILOGUE:
The next day I had some trips to Mexico. People were antsy and one passenger even walked off a flight, causing us to evacuate the aircraft for fear he may have left a bomb or weapon on board.
My last flight to Monterrey, I bought a small U.S. flag and stuck the little flagpole in my lapel. It was not regulation - not part of my uniform - but I would not take it off. "Let them TAKE it!" I told a coworker who told me I might get in trouble. (I didn't.)
As we were boarding in Monterrey, a well-dressed American who was boarding saw my flag, and asked if he could touch it. When I willingly agreed and he did, he began to sob. That was another moment I will never forget.
Almost everyone who was alive back then remember exactly where they were and what they were doing on that fateful day.... the day when there were no more planes flying overhead, and above us was only sky.
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