A True Story of September 11th

By Pamela E. Apkarian-Russell

(This story appeared in “Unravel the Gavel“. An excerpt of it also appeared in the book “Glory: A Nation’s Spirit Defeats the Attack on America”.)

All six pieces, both luggage and antique beaded funerary wreath, I had purchased via Ebay, from a British dealer, and had delivered to my mother in law’s apartment were already loaded onto BA flight 213 and we were waiting to board our plane home. We should have been settled in the plane by this time and I was feeling the same nervousness I always feel when something just isn’t right. Chris my English husband for over thirty years was off looking for rack cards, those free postcards that are left on racks in airports, movie theaters and the like, which we collect and sometimes trade for ones we do not have. I was talking to the young red headed tot who was on the seat beside me in the waiting area, when a young man rushed up. I hear we have a problem to the attendant who was standing at the desk whispering with her colleague. It was impossible not to hear the following conversation that ensued as I was sitting directly beside the counter. I queried the man who had his cell phone in his hand about what had happened.

“All flights to the USA have been canceled, and a bomb has gone off at the World Trade Center. Both towers are gone and the Pentagon is no more."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and another massive wave of nausea enveloped my mind for a few awful black moments. Standing up I turned to the BA attendant and said,

“ What procedure should we follow?”

“I don’t know, just get your bags and go home” she said, looking totally incapable of handling the situation. Home, I thought, that was what I was trying to do, get home back to NH where there was security, safety, being in your own country and in your own home. Chris arrived back without finding any rack cards and I informed him of what was happening. The woman with the baby beside me was panicking.

"I don’t have any where to go and no money left and I need to warm milk up for the baby," she moaned.

“I suggest you stop at one of the food places in here and ask them to warm up the bottle for you. I’m sure, considering the situation, they will accommodate you. Then collect your luggage and call the American Embassy. I have a feeling this is going to be a terrible nightmare for the entire world." I slipped a five-pound note into the baby’s carriage and left quickly. The woman behind the counter had disappeared and everyone was in various states of confusion and panic not knowing what to do or where to go.

"You have to go through Emigration first and then collect your baggage", I told the people next to me. We headed down toward Emigration and most people followed. I heard one man arguing with a security guard about having a business meeting the next morning and he had to be given a flight. America had been bombed and this man was worrying about a stupid business meeting? I hoped the leather on his expensive brief case dried out.

We had to wait our turn to use the elevator. And I kicked myself not for the first time for having so many books in my laptop case. And even more in our other hand luggage. Going down to Emigration I thought, “So this is how refugees feel. Suppose we are never able to get back to America and a full-blown war breaks out? What happens if I never get to see autumn in New England ever again, or my family and my cat?" A few moments of terror threw a chill up and down my spine.

It was at this point that I had to interject myself into a conversation that was occurring on my right with a man whose nationality I am not certain of but who had a decided French accent. He may have been Algerian. His remarks about Bush being a hatemonger and being the cause of the disaster irritated me beyond belief. I might think I’m just as qualified as Bush to be president, which isn’t a great recommendation, but I was dammed if I was going to allow someone, anyone, defame the office he held, or blame him for something he had no control over. Especially as America had just been attacked. In retrospect knowing what I know now I wish I had gone off looking for security. But that was September 11th, and we had no Idea what had really happened and was happening.

At Emigration we had to split up, I into the line of non- UK or EEC citizens, and Chris, a British citizen, in the other. He was through in moments while it took me over an hour. An hour I used speaking with people who were as frustrated as I that all we were getting was hearsay and that Heathrow was not making any announcements. BA seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. A security guard came over to two heavily cloaked women and asked them why they were just sitting there. They spoke almost no English.

“Istanbul” she said.

“You're going to Istanbul?” he asked looking puzzled.

“Istanbul,” she repeated and then “Bohstohn”. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the two Turkish women, who looked frightened and hadn’t the foggiest idea what was happening. I knew a little Turkish as my grandparents, refugees from the genocide of the Armenians by the Turks, had spoken it, and I had learnt bits and pieces of it as well as the Armenian dialect they had spoken. I was able to get them to go and call home and try to get tickets back to Turkey and not try and go on to Boston. I was convinced that we were in for a long stay in the UK. It seems they were to be picked up at the airport by a relative but they didn’t have any idea where they were going except the airport in Boston.

When we arrived down at the baggage collection area it took me quite awhile to locate Chris. There were almost a thousand people there waiting for their baggage that was being unloaded from one airliner or another. One could barely move for the luggage trolleys and the people. I spoke to one young couple that had a cell phone and had already called and reserved a hotel room at an exorbitant rate. They told me that there were very few hotels if any left in the London area. This didn’t affect us as we could go back to my Mother in laws apartment in Richmond on Thames and she would be quite happy to have her son back for a little longer. The couple called home again and were able to give us more details about what had happened. Only part of the Pentagon was destroyed, two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers; both the Canadian and Mexican borders were closed. The tears, which I had so successfully held back, welled up in my eyes as I thought of the thousands of people who might be dead or dying. I knew people who worked at the Pentagon. Where they alive? Were they okay? My Grandmothers words rang in my ears, “Not in my lifetime, but in yours, you will see it.” She had said there would be war on America and America was foolish to trust the Muslim world. My mother had said she had not wanted to see it and she had gotten her wish as she had died in a car accident only a few months earlier. The wave of nausea passed over me again. Lasting only a few seconds but making me sway on my feet as if I was going to pass out, as if my heart was going to stop beating.

The young couple was on their way home from their honeymoon and knew many people who worked in the twin towers. What she desperately wanted was to get home. What a lousy way to extend a honeymoon. Over three hours from the time we first heard of the hijacking, as we now knew what it was, we finally got our luggage. By this time every hotel in London was booked BA was telling people to get in line and they were handing out pieces of paper with a list of all the London hotels on it. What a waste of time, money and lack of foresight. All rooms were booked they should have been giving a list of rooms in Twickenham, Hounslow, Huntingdon and Richmond and not London proper. We advised people not to get in line and to get to a phone and call those places; one man came back and thanked us as he had gotten the last room where he had called.

We headed over to National car rental to rehire a vehicle where we had only hours before dropped off one, or was it a lifetime ago. I nearly passed out when the told me the amount which was so much higher than what we had paid for the previous three weeks. With all the luggage I had and the weight of all the books I knew we had no choice other that to accept the terms. One couple enroute from Europe asked us where they should go and what should they do and we told them to head west toward Stonehenge and I recommended a few places to stay. They were in the enviable situation of having sufficient resources and the time and were going to utilize it as best they could. None of us had any idea of the extent of the damage or the loss of life or what was really going on at home. Heathrow could have at least made a few announcements, but not one word was heard over the loud speakers.

A young girl about 17 was standing alone, immobile and in a daze. I stopped to speak with her. She was changing planes in London when her flight was canceled; she was out of money and had no idea what to do. I gave her some coins for the phone, and a five pound note and told her to go call the American Embassy and home if she could get through, as we were already hearing lines through to the States were impossible to get. We headed toward the shuttle for National Car Rental I wished I could have done more for her but we were pretty nearly out of pounds ourselves and would need to use our charge card the rest of the week even for groceries.

When we finally got to the shuttle the driver told us what he knew but his radio wasn’t working properly. We picked up a Ford Focus which was a grade down from the Citroen we had just returned but considering the problems we had had with that, less than 800 miles on it brand new vehicle, it was like getting a Rolls Royce. Best of all, it didn’t smell of burnt plastic. The Citroen for 90 miles had gotten stuck and we had to hear Chatty Cathy babble on about the traffic non-stop. “Expect minor delays on the M5 between…on the M4 traffic is moving freely etc. etc.” A pothole finally cured her motor mouth mechanism. The other problems that had plagued that vehicle were enough for me never to ever want to drive a Citroen again.

Chris had called his mother and she was ready for us when we arrived with a hot cup of tea and a much appreciated hot meal, which was a welcome sight as I had decided to skip breakfast that morning and except for an airport cookie had not had anything to eat. We ate in the living room as I was glued to the television and would not leave it to go to the dining room table. I who would not allow a TV into our home was now riveted to the Telly as if life, civilization, my very existence depended upon it.

The BBC gave excellent coverage but I would have done anything to have gotten WAMC our public radio station out of Albany. I wanted to know if others were as dismayed as I was to see the President of the greatest nation on earth scuttling from Florida to LA. To Nebraska. I was also, thrilled to see Rudy Giuliani in a hard hat take charge in New York City. He was covered with dust, as he moved amongst the workers and the victims. He was there for his people and leading them. There was comfort in that image. There was also comfort from Tony Blair, Prime Minister of England, standing firm and defiant against the insanity of the Taliban. He rose many a degree in my estimation.

It was very difficult to get through by phone to the states those first two days. I did call our friends Gwen and Bernie Goldman in their hotel in London. They were not scheduled to go back to Pa. till Friday. Gwen was suffering pains in her jaw and face. We discussed what was happening in depth. The anxiety attacks got worse and she landed up going to the hospital for the second time. They continued even after she arrived back in the states two days later than she should have. She had been diagnosed incorrectly, as it turned out to be a series of mild heart attacks. She was lucky she arrived home when she did as her doctor recognized the symptoms and she went in immediately for an angioplasty. Because of their health problems and age, they were able to get on an early flight but they had to sit around their hotel waiting for BA to call them as they were on stand by.

The days dragged by with us listening to the news which was heartbreaking. We went off and set up at a few postcard shows hoping to sell enough of the massive collection of cards that has been sitting in every nook and cranny of my mother in law’s apartment, which Chris had collected many moons before we ever met. We didn’t really want to live off of our charge cards and as the car was costing us a fortune we felt it necessary to try and generate some income. The shows had dismal attendance, down by up to 75 % and there I was with no money and so many postcards and books there to tempt me. We paid show expenses and that was about it. Nothing to spend but a few nice trades for cards I could use to illustrate the articles I write. The credit cards continued to climb at the grocery store and with phone bills back to the states. Petrol as they call it over there is much more expensive in the UK than it is in the US. What touched me most was all out friends and acquaintances everyone who came through the shows knew we were stranded and what had happened in the states and came and gave condolences and wishes that the death toll would be lower than the lowest estimates. I like to thing that the hopes and prayers of these good people were answered and that is why so many people escaped from those towering infernos.

Our friend Janet Davis called and asked for email addresses and messages we wanted to send back to the states. And would call and read messages back to us. Our friend Linda Witherill who was taking care of our cat the mighty Bahron Muhrchoom the magnificent, who was staying with her called and rebooked our car starting the 12th from the states which cut down the price considerably. She had also, spent quite a bit of time explaining to our cat why his slaves had not returned to him on the date we had promised him we would. Everywhere we went, including the theater, which we decided to treat ourselves to people, asked me what I though about what was happening at home and hoped I would get home soon. We saw the Witches of Eastwick” a fabulous production, which takes place in RI. If only I had been there in the real RI I could drive home in a few hours or to NY and give blood. I would feel like I wasn’t disenfranchised and part of the whole once again, regardless of the pain, and not feel like an asteroid or a moon, part of the same galaxy but not the same planet I yearned to be part of again. It was an eerie feeling of alienation that sat like a heavy meal in one's stomach. Having had a minor operation scheduled a few days after I was supposed to return our friend Crystal Snape rescheduled it with the doctor who arranged for another patient to switch dates.

Everyone was going out of the way to be helpful and accommodating everywhere. Was this the way people could cope with the pain and anger? Could from all the hate and anger that perpetuated these tragedies and incontinences come understanding and kindness? Could those who accused me of never growing up and living in the idealism of the sixties be reverting back to those days when we were young and innocent and thought we could change the world and gave it our best shot to do so.

I ran out of medication and called the local Dr. and asked if I brought down my pill containers if they could okay it to be filled at the chemists. These were medications for heart, thyroid and blood pressure. The doctor was as friendly as a hungry boa constrictor. She might have been very pretty but approximately 75.00 later I still did not have a prescription I then called the American Embassy and a blessed being called Kay had the doctor there take care of it. When I went to Boots to pick up the medication it could not be re-verified as the embassy was now closed for the weekend. The pharmacist took it upon herself to allow me all but one of the medications. It was a first time for her doing something like this and as she was young and only an assistant she did this with trepidation. They needed verification that the doctor at the embassy was allowed to prescribe in the UK. And although I assured them he was as they had already assured me they needed it in writing. Thankfully I made it home with the help of these few people without any incident.

On the 18th of Sept. we arrived at Heathrow early as we had heard security was very tight. For almost three hours we stood out in the cold drizzle in a line waiting for BA to let us in to check in and check our luggage in. Some in line before us had been given blankets to wrap themselves in. We asked for some and a half an hour before we went into the building we were given one. By this time I was really shivering and had caught a chill. We chatted with the people around us found out who they were they were coming from were they were going. The girl behind us was from Haling Island and was joining her boy friend who was part of the yacht racing in Marblehead. Chris had spent his summers on Haling Island as a child and he happily chatted about the old days and his grandmother’s apple orchard. Everyone was thoroughly tired of standing and chilled before they let us in.

Check in was more rapid and security was more lax than I can ever remember it. This was a real surprise to us. As we went to go through security to our gate a man from British Air pulled the blanket off my shoulders and said, “Hey you can’t take that in there with you, we’ll need that for others. Get one when you get on the plane.” I was still shivering and was running a temperature by that time. Our flight was delayed and then it was cancelled as the plane was having mechanical problems. Another two-hour wait and another gate. The man behind us had been bumped from an earlier flight and was upset he was being delayed again.

“I wonder if we will get a 3 course meal?" he joked.

“Yes, bread, water, and a tooth pick" I replied.

Finally, we got on board and took off for America. The fact the stewardess only paid attention to one woman and her child and forgot that the rest of the passengers were there was unimportant relative to the fact that we were headed home at long last. There were not any blankets on the plane but there were a few empty seats, which was upsetting in the fact that there were still people waiting to receive the blessing we were now receiving, the blessing of going home.

Boston airport was pandemonium when we got to emigration they asked me how long we had been gone.

“Forever, but thank heavens we are back now.” The official looked at me quizzically. We collected our belongings and went to customs where I had declarations to make. The funeral wreath in the large box raised an eyebrow or two from the agent. The heavy cases of books and postcards and every newspaper I had purchased trying to satisfy my news hungry soul, were there. The two bags of daffodils we showed to the agriculture lady who opened, examined and passed them. When we got out of the airport I wanted to get down on my knees and kiss the ground but restrained myself. The cab ride to the John Nagle Co. on the fish pier was quick. We picked up the vehicle and headed home.

It was very late when we turned into the driveway. Stepping out on the damp grass of our yard I sank to my knees and looked up into a sky filled with millions of bright stars. Where there more stars than before and did each of them have the name of someone who had had their lives terminated so tragically on Sept 11th? It looked that way too me through my tears and it still does. Does anything fell and smell as beautiful as the soil of Mother Earth that we know and love I doubted it then and always will.

Oh, Dorothy Gale you were so right - There is no place like home.