Tuesday
November 27, 2001

October 2nd, 2001: I Flew Today.......

I flew today for the first time since the September 11 attacks. Flying is a way of life for me. My job requires me to take two or three flights each month. Many people asked me if I would continue to fly. I never really saw any other option. This is what I do, and it is part of who I am. As our President said, it is my duty to go back to work and my customers need me. Still, things were different. People were more polite in line, less likely to become agitated as we made our way to the ticket counter. Nobody mentioned the tragedy, but it had to be on everyone's mind. Perhaps the thought was that to speak of it would bring bad luck.

As my husband and I said our goodbyes, I found myself stalling. Up until now my departures had always been routine, full of last minutes instructions to not forget the dogs' appointment at the groomer or get the oil changed in the car. Now I felt compelled to say "I love you" one more time and stay with him until the last possible moment. Others seemed to be experiencing this same reluctance. I noticed more people hugging as they parted with loved ones. While I waited in line to go through the security checkpoint, I saw a young woman with an odd, thoughtful expression pressing her hand to the glass separating the boarding area from the rest of the airport. On the other side, a fidgeting small boy was passed between a man and woman as he enthusiastically shouted "bye-bye Mommy, we're going to McDonald's now". His mother laughed, but I could see concern in her eyes. I wondered if she was thinking of families never to be reunited.

At the security gate, I noticed a friendly face. Steve, a local city police officer, was screening people as they entered through security. I went to high school with Steve in a small town where everyone still remembers Steve as part of an unstoppable football trio who took us to a state championship. Somehow it seemed right to see him there. This is his home and mine. His greeting as I passed through security was warm but subdued. Normally I would have asked him about his son, and we would have made promises to get together for pizza sometime. Instead he just grasped my arm at the elbow and wished me a safe flight.

In spite of my resolve to be rational, I felt a quiver of fear as the call came over the loudspeaker that Premier members could begin early boarding. Suddenly being first on the plane didn't feel like quite such a privilege. Nonetheless, I entered the plane and with the other passengers settled into the usual traveling routine of stowing bags and retrieving paperback novels. As each person passed my seat, I noticed that I was looking at faces. Like most frequent travelers, I don't make a habit of engaging other passengers in conversation. My thought had always been why bother, I'm never going to see any of these people again. This time was different, I felt a need to connect with those around me.

The gentleman next to me was too large for the seatbelt and needed an extension from the flight attendant. He laughed and said it would probably be the last time, because he had just bought a ranch and had lost forty pounds already. We found we have a common love of gardening, and I have a great new recipe for chutney. He told me a story about his terrier, Pennyroyal, who once saved the life of a cow. The cow had undergone a particularly difficult experience calving and could not be roused. Evidently, dropping the hyperactive terrier on her face did just the trick.

I recognized the woman in front of us as the one who had said goodbye to her son earlier. She got up at 3:00 am to make the early flight to visit her sister and a new baby in San Francisco. She had to fly home the same night to be back in time for work the next morning, but she was undaunted by the long day ahead. The flight attendant commiserated and gave her an extra chocolate cookie.

It occurred to me that each of us who ducked through the opening of the plane made a stand. We refused to subdue our activities because of a cowardly, terrorist act. Babies are still being born, and as long as there are sisters who want to be there, our planes will fly.

Perhaps one my proudest moments as an American came when two Arab men joined our group of early morning travelers. We stopped chatting and stared. We couldn't help it. Racism and paranoia could have settled in, but it didn't. As they found their seats in the plane I saw an older gentleman with a baseball cap embellished with the name of the ship he sailed on in WWII, help one of the men lift his bag into the overhead compartment. We later found out these men were going to visit their children in college, because they were worried about them. They became part of our intrepid, courageous group. This was a victory for us as well. Things are different, but we will not change who we are, or what it means to be an American.