18 September 2001
Last week, a series of terrorist attacks took place in the US. I call it 911, after the date of the attacks, September 11. Air travel was difficult, frustrating, dysfunctional, slow, expensive, and I’m really glad I went.
Pre-911 air travel wasn’t really all that great. Too many airlines and too many planes chased too few fares. We were spiraling down to a very common denominator of unreliable schedules, unprofessional services, and surly passengers. Air rage was epidemic, planes were late, communication was bad. Travelers received announcements skeptically when told about the need to wait for weather. Some fool in the FAA kept backing up the whole country whenever it rained between Chicago and any other city.
People would be boarded on planes and then sit at gates or on tarmacs for hours. Flights would arrive and find other planes at their gates, and the passengers would wait forever. I once saw a husband and wife decide to avail themselves of the lavatory after everyone was on the plane. We couldn’t pull back from the gate until they were seated. Two hundred and fifty people in our plane alone had to wait to move until Mr and Mrs I-Can’t-Wait finished taking their sweet time. People, I know that your mothers told you this: go before you leave – but she meant before you get on the plane, dammit. I was reminded of the belief that a butterfly in China, flapping its wings, might create a tornado in the US the next day. I wondered if this guy’s bladder was going to be the space that delayed a thousand ships.
I’m normally very conscientious about getting to the airport an hour before the scheduled departure time, especially if I am checking a bag. I would prefer to walk straight from my car to the plane and then take off immediately, but the airlines discourage that. So I always get there early, and watch the other passengers jockey to get ahead of each other, for space in the overhead, for exit row seats, for a drink at the water fountain. The size of carry on bags had gotten so far past ridiculous. I’ve decided to volunteer to be the line Nazi and the Carry on Bag Judge. I bought a bag that fits into that little box because I know that rules are for everybody. A lot of times I felt like I was the only person on the plane who was carrying a bag that complied with the rules. My sense of fairness was as offended as it is when people come from nowhere to buy movie tickets when the person in front of me gets to the window. I like a straight line and no cutting. I’m willing to wait my turn but if you want to pass me, I’m going to get surly.
It’s even worse in cars, when a lane is closed or two highways merge. All of the good guys merge early, and then the yahoos fly around them and try to cut in way ahead. That makes me pretty testy, too. I want to have a big semi and block both lanes. Kids, I know that your mothers told you to take turns. Stop trying to cut in lines. If you’re in such a damned hurry, leave home earlier. If you try that, you might not get that look from your wife when you make her five minutes late for everything. Stop stealing other people’s time when you waste so much of your own.
PLAN A. I attend three genealogy conferences each year. The FGS conference was scheduled last week in the Quad Cities. I made plans to drive from Fort Worth to Davenport and camp the whole way up and back, like John Wilbanks did for the NGS conference in Portland. I was scheduled to attend a board meeting on Tuesday, and to speak on Friday and Saturday. In between, I’d be able to visit with all of my genealogy buddies that I get to see three times a year.
Events don’t always go like I want. I thought that a commemoration event in College Station, TX observing the passing of my old college advisor, Manuel Davenport, had been scheduled for the prior weekend. When the event was finalized, it was on the 15th, and conflicted with my scheduled luncheon talk. I was asked to participate in the commemoration event. Having been away at FGS last year when he passed, and having missed the memorial service, I really wanted to participate. Discussions with the GENTECH board led to the cancellation of the planned Tuesday meeting.
PLAN B. I decided that I needed to be at the Commemoration in Texas. I saw no reasonable way I could drive from Iowa to A&M between noon Friday and 8 am Saturday, so I made plans to find other speakers to give my scheduled talks.
This was a great idea, except that it didn’t work. I was able to recruit Dick Eastman to do the Saturday luncheon, but Bill Mumford was going to need an $800 plane ticket to do the Friday talk.
PLAN C. It was determined that I could be flown up and back for just under $300, and the society bought the ticket. Even though I live very near the DFW airport, it was decided that I would fly out of (and back in to) the Houston airport because it was nearer to College Station. I was to fly on Wed, 12 Sept, to Minneapolis and then Moline, and leave Friday after the talk on the GEDCOM TestBook, and be in Houston by 730pm the 14th. I’d stay with my parents in Katy and get to A&M by 830 am on Saturday for the commemoration event. I also planned to drive down the night before and stay there, so I could get to the airport good and early the next day.
That plan was a good one, in terms of how long it lasted until it changed. Actually, it lasted MUCH longer than any other plan from then until I got home.
PLAN D. Tuesday morning, the 911 attack grounded the civil aviation industry. I checked the NWA website and found that my flight for Wednesday morning was cancelled. I called the airline and was re-booked on a flight for Wednesday at 1pm. Many announcements pertaining to civil aviation were made that day, including the elimination of curbside baggage checking and the prohibition of knives on planes. I carry a small Swiss army knife – I need it to cut through shrink wrap on software. The blade is about two inches long, and it would be impossible to threaten anyone with it unless they swallowed it, I think. Geez, I felt sorry for everybody that day. Dead people, bereaved loved ones, all of us. I called my kids, I called my parents, I called my friends. I emailed all the mailing lists I’m on. I really wanted to connect with something that wasn’t burning, collapsing, or crashing.
I packed my pocket knife into my checked luggage, certain that I wouldn’t be allowed to take it on the plane. Frankly, I don’t like to have to clear security at airports. My belt buckle or my shoes set it off. Some guy always picks my laptop to do the swab test. In Kansas City, you have to clear security to get to the gates for a boarding pass. Then you have to go out of the secure area to reach the rest rooms or any food. The frequent delays mentioned above led to the need for me to clear security at MCI many times. On one trip, the same guy swabbed my laptop 4 times. I took to traveling with a fanny pack, so I could just dump the metallic objects in my pockets – phone, palm pilot, change, pens, wristwatch, Swiss army knife, you name it – into the fanny pack and send it through with my carryon. Of course, if I took anything out of the pack before the plane left, it would initiate a series of events that would result in my having to go out and back thru and put it away again – perhaps the air gods were testing me. They’d delay a flight because I had a pocketknife in my pocket, leading me to decide to eat before the flight. Then the food vendor would give me change, and I’d have to be sure to put that away too. I tell you, life is complicated for the absent-minded, and I find security checks to be a royal pain.
One of my daughters was in Rome, and by coincidence, she emailed me at that exact time. I knew then that she was in a coffee shop in Rome, and as long as she is at large, freedom and democracy still have a chance.
Wednesday morning, it was announced that the FAA would rule on whether the groundstop would be lifted at 12 eastern time. I really wanted to fly by that point, because I wanted to see my genealogy family, too. I left at 6am and drove to the airport in Houston. I stopped for gasoline and coffee and decided to wash my car. I’m really losing control of the mess that my car is becoming and it seemed like a good day to get my rolling house in order, so I spent 15 minutes waiting and then driving through the station’s car wash. Then I drove on.
As I passed through Huntsville, about 50 miles from the airport, at 1015 or so, I called NWA again and was told that if I checked in early, that the flight was still on. If the FAA lifted the groundstop, I’d be on my way. I sped on.
I had forgotten two things, and they didn’t come to my mind until later. One is that I have a big old box of chewing gum at home. I got it at Costco. I chew a lot of gum in the car. I chew it for about ten minutes, then get some more. I think it might be what makes me such a great driver, but then again, these things aren’t always easy to understand, much less explain. The other thing that I forgot was that on the Thursday before I left, my home computer network had crashed. The computers all worked, but I couldn’t get them to see each other the way that they had before. I was without clue to the cause or solution. I resolved to wait until I got home before I fooled with it, but then I talked to my brother and he said to bring the computers with me when I came down. When PLAN C became PLAN D, I forgot about the computers because I wasn’t going to Katy first anymore. Or so I thought.
I took the Hardy Toll Road and that put my trip’s toll meter at $1. I got to the airport, parked in the City Economy Lot, and took the bus to Terminal B. I’ve never been comfortable calling it Terminal Parking, or doing anything that starts with the word Terminal. I tipped the shuttle driver a dollar, putting the total of tips for the trip at $1. As I arrived at the counter, the airline employees were leaving. “No flights today. It’s all cancelled.” I asked if I could book my next flight, and they said that I’d have to call, they couldn’t help me. When I rode the bus back to my car, I didn’t offer a tip.
PLAN E. I don’t mind making it clear that Northwest Airlines was the author of my discontent. I made many calls to three different toll free numbers. These are daytime minutes on my cell phone, mind you, and they have a system that answers, thanks you for calling northwest, tells you that they’re busy as hell, and then asks you several other questions before giving you a busy signal. After about 45 minutes, almost all of which I think went on my cell phone, I got through and made a reservation for the same 1pm flight on Thursday, with the same return flight as before. While I was doing all of this calling, I was driving to Katy to see my folks. I figured I’d be there for the night. That’s two more toll booths, the trip total is at $3 now.
I should also mention that everyone knows me as Beau, my nickname. My driver’s license says James. This occasionally causes me problems when I want to board a plane. I expected some trouble this time.
My brother was out golfing, so I had lunch with my parents, did a little email at their office, and went to their house to nap – having left to early and all. I should add that I had the radio or the TV on news everywhere I went, because I wanted to know what was going on in the world. I felt like it was bigger than Pearl Harbor. We’ve avoided dealing with Terror for 20 years, and our hens are home to roost now.
PLAN E wasn’t a bad plan, I would like to have tried it. About 1 or 2 pm, I found that my substitute speaker, Dick Eastman, wasn’t going to be able to get to Quad Cities and that I was back on the hook for the Saturday luncheon. I called the Philosophy Department at A&M and told them that I had the prior commitment come back up, and that if I was able to fly to Quad Cities that I would stay through Saturday and miss the commemoration event. I also heard that people who were grounded in Chicago and other hubs were renting cars and driving the rest of the way, resulting in a shortage of rental cars in the Midwest.
It was about this time that I realized what a virtuoso performance that Rudy Giuliani was putting on. Had he pursued his Senate bid last fall, he wouldn’t have been in NYC when the 911 Attack started. He was everywhere, he was laying it on the line. He was at risk, he cared, he worked long days. When I grow up, I want to have Rudy’s grace under pressure.
PLAN F. That evening, I was playing 42 with my parents when my cell phone rang, maybe at 10pm. I received an automated message from Northwest telling me that my flight was cancelled. I called them and things got really difficult. There was no way that they could get me to Moline before my lecture at 8am on Friday morning. The best I could do was to fly to Memphis at 7pm, connect to Minneapolis, get there at 11pm, and drive to Davenport. At that time, I moved my return back. Sunday wasn’t available, but Monday was. I took it. Then I booked a rental car in Minneapolis for a one-way trip to Davenport with Hertz.
About 11pm, my brother came in and asked me if I had brought the computers. It was the first time I had thought about them in about 36 hours. I felt pretty silly. He wanted to work on them in his “hospital.” I wish I had taken them to him. Nobody likes to have their LAN down.
The next day, I got up and went to work at my parent’s office. I called and asked for the conference planners in Davenport to move my lecture back on Friday in case I got there later in the day. I cleaned up in the afternoon and went back to the airport for the second time. This involved raising the tolls to $5 for the trip to date. I parked at the same lot and tipped another dollar. Tolls $5, Tips $2. I hope to buy my way to Davenport, one dollar at a time. When I used to have money, I’d tip $5. People remember you for a fin. They forget you for a buck, right after the curse leaves their whispering lips. I noticed that there were no planes landing or taking off as I rode the bus to the terminal.
This time I’m at the airport at 4pm, a full three hours before the flight. I got right up to the counter, there was no line. I checked my bags. I expected them to be searched, but they weren’t searched in my presence, and I have locks on them. The man at the gate said that the Memphis leg would be easy, but he wasn’t sure about the second leg to Minneapolis, because most flights were just for repositioning. They were understanding about the name on my ticket being different from my ID, and waved me right through. I cleared security, putting my laptop bag and fanny pack through the x-ray machine like always. It was great. I was at the gate with a boarding pass in hand a full two and a half hours before my flight. I found a seat near an outlet and plugged in my laptop. No use wasting so much good time. The first thing I did was see that it would take all night and then some if I had to drive from Memphis. I looked at several routes to Davenport from Minneapolis, and steeled my resolve to drive all night without sleep.
The snack areas were all outside of the security check. There was no way to get a soda or a roll without going back out. There were two uniformed Houston police sitting in the gate area, but they are smiling and relaxed and kept the tension from getting any higher than normal.
I first saw kiosk carts at Faneuil Hall in Boston’s Quincy Market. Now they’re in most malls, too. They put them right down the center and clog up traffic. I’ve even seen an Earthlink kiosk here at the outlet mall in Grapevine. Well, Northwest has a “rebooking hotline” kiosk. It’s on wheels. They roll it wherever they need, it, and plug it into the wall, and people can use it to call for flights when one is cancelled. If you are ever waiting for a plane and one of these kiosks is rolled up near you and plugged in, this is a bad thing. About 630, that’s what happened to me and PLAN F.
It was announced that the FAA had reimposed the groundstop and that all flights that day were cancelled. No one would fly this day from that terminal.
PLAN G. I used the rebooking hotline to rebook for a Friday morning flight. This put me into the Moline Airport at 220, and my lecture was rescheduled for 830. This delay really took the steam out of me. I left the airport, rode the bus back to my car. Again, I did not tip. Get me on the plane and I’ll tip, I thought.
Driving back to Katy added two more dollars to the toll total. I’m at 7 and 2 now, and running low on singles. I went to bed, knowing I’d need to be up very early to catch that plane.
The next day, I got up and got going. We had an early, quiet breakfast at my parents’ house. I got gas, got through the traffic, paid two more tolls, parked, tipped one more dollar, (9,3) and entered the gates of hell. The NW counter had a line at check in that stretched out of sight. I resolved to visit the men’s room and get some coffee before I got in it. That didn’t take long. The line, however, didn’t move. I saw two people working the regular line, and one working the first class line. A lot more people got into the first class line than would fit on one plane, but I assumed that some of them were people who believe that they belong in the short line. People live by their values and convictions, I suppose. I was in the line, moving slowly, for just over 2 hours and 15 minutes. The people in the line were polite and trying to be nice to each other. Apparently the 745 plane left, and that encouraged me. My flight was scheduled for 940 and I got in line at 650am. At 9am, they made a new line for people who were only going to Minneapolis.
About ten minutes after that, they announced a new policy of only flying to hubs, and people with connections would not fly this day. They had too many people and planes in Minneapolis. They didn’t want to get people out to non-hum cities and not bring them back. It sounded shallow to me. I was really crushed. I was angry. People had been checking in for connecting flights for two hours and when I was 20 people from the counter they were going to change the policy? Here I was with $12 in tolls and bus tips and they were saying that I wouldn’t fly that day? I decided to stay in line, and see what my choices were when I got to the counter. I called Davenport and told them that I had a problem, and learned that my talk was actually scheduled for Saturday, so I could arrive any time I wanted. A few minutes later, a woman from NWA asked if there was anyone in line holding a ticket for flight 1051. I thought for about half a second and stepped forward.
PLAN H. I explained that I had been booked to Moline before, but that I had cancelled that leg, and had a rental reserved in Minneapolis. I was in possession of a boarding pass from the evening before that was for the Memphis/Minneapolis flight only, and I thought that my chances of getting to the Twin Cities were good. I figured that I could rent a car there if it came to it, but I also thought that the puddle jumper that I was booked on might be flying, and might want a passenger. The lady was skeptical, but she booked me, after an admonition about flying under my nickname. At 920 I got to the gate and at 930 we boarded an airplane. I called ahead and asked for a car to be rented round trip, just in case the airline didn’t fly and in case my one way car reservation was cancelled.
We took off and flew. I was way in the back. I asked the flight attendant if she was nervous, and she said she was just ready to get home. The crew had been stuck in Houston for three days. I told her that if she had any problems on the flight to ask me for help. I think that the crew is there for the safety of the passengers, but that the passengers have to watch out for the safety of the crew, too. This plane was about 20 percent full. The flight was uneventful. I slept when I could, and worried about what to do in Minneapolis.
My connection was scheduled for 1pm, and we landed at about 1215. I knew I would have to claim bags and check in, but 45 minutes might be enough. Our gate had a plane in it. As a matter of fact, there were planes everywhere at Minneapolis. One at every gate, and dozens more parked in long neat rows. I didn’t count them, but there must have been over 50 more planes than gates on Friday in Minneapolis. Eventually, we were assigned to another gate, and we deplaned. I walked around the concourse. The airport was packed. The domestic check in line was much longer than the line in Houston. I was sure that it would take me a couple of hours to go through it.
I asked a woman in a NW jacket what I should do. She told me to claim my bags and check in. I figured that I could claim my bags, call NWA, and then either check in or catch the bus to Avis. Driving would put me into Davenport about 6pm.
PLAN I. As I waited for my bags to come up, I called NWA, and learned that the “no connections” policy had been rescinded, and that I could fly to Davenport. It was too late for the 1pm flight, but there was one at 435. I could return on my regular flight. I was glad to hear this because it put me into the Quad Cities at the same time as driving and saved me the expense of a rental. I got some more money, ate lunch, called the people checking on me, and started the long march from Concourse F to Concourse C. If you have to make that switch, start early. It’s far. I felt better than I had at any time since the 911 Attack. I would see my friends, give my talks, and things would be normal again.
PLAN J, PLAN K. My 435 flight was delayed until 510, and then 500. At 5 we really boarded, and really took off. Iowa and Minnesota were very green. I rode near a young man who worked for Channel 8 in the Quad Cities. He’d been stuck in LA for three days, poor devil. We landed in Davenport, where he learned that his car had likely been towed. He wasn’t sure where he’d parked it, but there was a list of license tag numbers for cars that were “relocated.” He couldn’t remember his tag number, either. I am tempted to report persons with such bad memories to security, but I was sure this guy was okay.
The shuttle took me to the hotel. I tipped the driver $5 (9,8). When I came in the door, I was immediately hugged by Joe Brickey. I went to my room, and started to unpack and plan the next two days. Part one of my flying weekend was over.
What is this Battle of the Network Vowels? CNN and Fox are spelling the name of the terrorist leader as Osama and Usama. For a spelling fanatic like myself, this is a serious problem.
Davenport and Moline are great towns. They have a great river and cool trains. On Saturday, there was a rally in Davenport where 5,000 Americans showed up, talking unity. A Muslim read prayers. I thought that was so important – it is imperative that we don’t let this degenerate into Crusades 2001, where the Christians and the Moslems go to war again. This is self-defense for Live and Let Live. Crimes have been committed and men must pay for those acts. This particular event also produced donations of $18,000 for the Red Cross, even though the event was not a fund raising event. I’m a river nut and I tell you that Mississippi is a river that Americans can be proud of.
Saturday, I saw so many of my genealogy friends. I always enjoy seeing David Rencher, Tony Burroughs, Michael LeClerc, Pamela Boyer Porter, Amy Johnson Crow, Tony Burroughs, Rhonda McClure, Jennifer (and Blaine) Schmidt), Curt Witcher, Matthew and April Helm, Dean Hunter, Karen Green, Birdie Holsclaw, Jim and Paula Warren, Sandy Clunies, Lou Szucs, Tony Burroughs, Julianna Smith and many others. Cyndi Howells, Bob Anderson, Laura Prescott Duffy, Sandi Hewlett and I stayed up 'til 2am playing pool. Before that we made paper airplanes. Before that we played bridge, or a variation on bridge that includes teaching beginners through table-talk and, at times, showing our cards. Hey, sometimes we give do-overs in pool, too.
Sunday afternoon, I rode to the airport with a friend who was flying out. There was a porter at the sidewalk. I gave him a dollar (9,9) and said that I knew it was hard for a man to make a dollar this weekend. Then the shuttle driver for my hotel came and I tipped him $5 (9,14). Sunday evening, I enjoyed dinner with an old high school friend. I also heard my first horn honked in anger by a driver. Things were returning to normal.
Yesterday
morning in Moline, it was overcast and drizzly. I got to the airport early,
tipped the shuttle driver a dollar (9,15) checked my bags, cleared
security, and then went to my gate. It was at the end of a long concourse and
the three sides were all glass. As I put down my bag, I looked down the
Mississippi Valley. It was green. More trees than I could count. More leaves
than I could count. And off across the runways, near the tree line on the far
side, a huge flock of black birds was flying up and down, in those kaleidoscopic
patterns that only birds can make. It struck me - how much of life and earth are
oblivious to our insanity. It was one of those zen moments when I was at peace
with nature, and felt like I was outside the cycles of lunacy that were blaring
out of a tv set every 30 yards in the airport.
My
flight to Minneapolis on the puddle jumper was uneventful. I slept most of the
way. The Quad Cities airport was nearly empty. Minneapolis seemed normal. The
flight to Houston was almost full. And get this: we were served a snack.
Sandwich, chips, apple. With a plastic knife.
As
I flew home, I realized that there will be over 50,000 people laid off at
airlines soon, perhaps 100,000. People will lose their jobs in the aftermath of
this attack. Companies will go into bankruptcy and merge. The marketplace, like
the surface of water, will absorb this event, waves will radiate out, and then
it will eventually go away. I suddenly wondered if that wasn't part of the plan.
I wondered if there was someone who intended to shake our faith in products -
after all, we are a market society. When we conquered the world in that Game of
Risk known as WWII, we implemented the GATT agreements. We win the world, we
wish for ... Free Trade! We're the world's merchant society. How do you hurt
merchants? Hurt markets.
I
landed in Houston, and claimed my bags. As I left the airport, I passed the NWA
counter. There was no line. If I had seen a ticket agent that I recognized, I
would have gone over there. I would have told them that I made it.
I headed straight for DFW. On the way, I had to pay one more toll – to finish the trip at $10 for tolls and $15 for bus and shuttle tips. It takes money to move around.