The Day the World Changed – Living in Washington, D.C. on 9/11

After I finished high school, I didn’t feel ready to enroll in any post-secondary education. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up and as my eighteenth birthday arrived, I wondered at what point I would be considered ‘grown up’. I hoped it would be in the far distant future. That was very much true, as I am still pondering the same issue. When Canada declared me a legal adult according to my birthday, I did three things;

1. Went to a bar

2. Got a tattoo

3. Left the country

Living in the United States 

When I was in high school, I spent two years in Bethesda, Maryland while my dad did a research sabbatical at the National Institutes of Health. I spent most of my time doing gymnastics at a wonderful gym. We trained a lot and although it was very hard work, it was worthwhile because of the friendships I made. I had an abbreviated schedule at school so that I could fit in enough hours of practice. 

Just Gymnastics

For twenty-five to thirty hours per week, a group of us struggled, persevered, fell and got up again. Those friendships have lasted my entire life. I didn’t spend very much time focused on school or making friends there. I did gymnastics, a bit of home work and more gymnastics. In my final year of high school, my family decided to move back to Canada. I was extremely sad. My gymnastics career ended abruptly with an ankle injury that was not reparable. I left the United States with my family and when I moved back to Canada for grade 12, I felt like I was leaving my entire identity behind. I was empty and in deep depression. 

Following my official ‘Grown Up’ birthday, I wanted to go back to where I was happy. That was with my friends in the United States. Although Canada was my home country, I had grown very close to the people I met and didn’t want to return to Canada at all. I struggled a great deal in my final year of school and wanted to escape. I had wonderful friends in Canada who supported me through difficulty and visited me while I lived in the United States. It was my own demons, however, that drove me out of Canada because I believed I could escape my own baggage. Later in life, I learned that your baggage isn’t geographical. It comes with you everywhere, so you might as well prepare for it.  

I did it my way 

I moved back to Silver Spring, Maryland and lived with a close friend of mine, Nancy, and her husband. We were about ten minutes from Washington, D.C. I loved going to the Smithsonian and found it to be such a fascinating place to live.  Nancy and I used to bike together and I remember passing the white sidewalk line that said ‘Maryland’ on one side and ‘Washington, D.C.’ on the other. I lived with her and her husband for quite some time; their generosity and kindness being one of the most pivotal teachers of my life. I felt completely fine about living in another country than my family, taking care of myself and being independent. I have had an independent streak in me since childhood and my dad has said that if I had a theme song for my life, it would be ‘I did it my way’.  

My Mom in Winnipeg 

One morning my mom received a phone call from one of her closest friends. It was fairly early and generally not a time that she received casual phone calls from friends, particularly on Tuesday mornings. Her friend worked at the Winnipeg International Airport and called my mom from work. She told her they had just received information regarding a major incident in the United States and she was worried about me. My mom had heard nothing of the incident at that point. She asked with trepidation why there was any worry about me; what had happened? Her friend told her that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York and they’d been advised that more planes still in flight had been hijacked. One of them was heading toward Washington D.C. The date was September 11th, 2001.  

My Dad in Ottawa 

My dad was on his way to Switzerland and had made a stop in Ottawa to administer a set of exams for medical school residents. Two groups of students were being examined and the first group had finished the exam the day before. On a Tuesday morning, he was told about the plane that had hit the World Trade Center. At that point, he had not been contacted by my mom nor did he know of the other planes. 

He and his colleagues sat down to determine whether they should proceed with the exam or not. None of the students had a direct connection to the catastrophe unfolding, however, determining whether to move forward or not was a challenging decision. The first group of students had already finished, however, there were many variables to take into consideration before moving forward with the exam for the second group. After much discussion and consideration, they decided to continue with the exam as planned.  

Me in Maryland 

Early one Tuesday morning, I woke up and started getting ready for work. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Both Nancy and I had work that day and she was vacuuming when I noticed the phone ringing. It appeared it had been ringing for some time. It was my mom. She asked if I was ok. I told her yes, I was fine; I was at home with Nancy and we would be heading to work later. She told me to turn on the TV. I asked what channel and she responded with “any channel”. That was the first moment I felt my heart drop into my stomach. ‘Any channel’ is never a good response. 

I turned on the TV and stood beside Nancy, phone to my ear, as we watched both towers of the World Trade Center bellowing with smoke. People were trapped inside and it was only eighteen minutes between the time the first and the second plane hit the 110-story towers. My mom told us she had heard there were more hijacked planes in the air and one could be heading toward Washington, D.C. She said she would try to get a hold of my dad but he was supposed to be on a flight to Switzerland that day and she was unsure if he was on it already or not, she hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. Little did we know that the plane she was referring to was circling overhead.  

Incomprehensible 

As millions of people watched the horror in New York with incredulity, American Airlines Flight 77 circled downtown Washington D.C., before crashing into the west side of the Pentagon. The headquarters of the U.S. Department of Defense. It had been approximately one hour since my mom had been called by her close friend. Nancy was six months pregnant with her first child and I was over 2,000km away from my home city of Winnipeg.  

Less than fifteen minutes after the Pentagon was hit, Nancy and I stood watching as the south tower of the World Trade Center collapsed to the ground. The reporters fell silent. I could not comprehend what I was seeing. Nancy said to me “is this happening? I mean…is this right now?” There were no words, really, and I think her comment was one of disbelief. I couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. Shortly after, the north building of the twin towers collapsed. 

The fourth hijacked aircraft was United Flight 93. It left New Jersey and was California bound. The flight had been delayed in taking off so the passengers on board learned of the events in New York and Washington. In a moment of astounding heroic action, a group of passengers and flight attendants planned to stop what they knew was going to happen to Flight 93. The passengers fought the four hijackers and flipped the plane; it crashed into a rural field of Pennsylvania killing everyone on board. Although the intended target was not definitively identified, many believe the plane was headed toward the White House or Capitol Hill. A movie, Flight 93, was made about the heroes on that flight.  

What now? 

All commercial planes were grounded and the United States would shortly begin the War on Terror. Nancy and I debated whether we should go to work or not. Do we continue with our day; do we stop and wait? Neither of us really knew how to begin processing what was happening and what we should do. There were differing perspectives on whether to go to work on not. What now? We didn’t know. No one did.  

When I lived in Maryland with my family, we lived behind the Naval Hospital and I saw U.S. military planes for the first time in my life. I was never afraid of them, however, I felt completely different the morning of September 11th, 2001. I walked outside because I needed a moment alone to breathe and think. It was a state of shock and numbness. I was 18 years old by a few months, planes were being hijacked at that moment, my family was no where close to me and I really did not know what would happen to me next. There was nothing to do but wait and see. I froze.

I saw a military plane fly overhead. Any plane in the sky felt like a terrible sign. There was a busy street nearby that was almost completely empty with the exception of police and military. I will never forget the feeling of the air during that walk. Perhaps it wasn’t the air, but it was something. Something palpable. It felt as if I could swallow the air instead of breathe it because it was thick and constricting. I had never felt thick air. It was like being immersed in liquid; ears plugged, noises muffled and pressure surrounding my body.  

Cross border friendships 

My mom got a hold of my dad and much to her relief he had not left for Switzerland. They decided I needed to leave the United States as soon as possible; this was uncharted territory for all of us. I was barely eighteen and although they knew I was safe and independent, getting the family back together in one country was an understandable priority. My dad phoned one of his oldest friends, Chris, who lived in upstate New York. Chris drove from his home across the Canadian border to Ottawa, in order to pick up my dad once the exams were finished. They drove back to upstate New York that day, and my dad borrowed his car and continued driving until he reached Maryland.  

He arrived that evening and wanted to leave immediately. I wanted to stay one more night so that I could say goodbye to my friends. I was idling between terror, sadness and anxiety. Although I had my reasons for not wanting to return to Canada, I recognized the severity of the situation and the need to leave. I was profoundly sad because I believed that if I left, I would not see Nancy or anyone from Maryland for a very long time. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened.  

My dad agreed to give me one more night to say my goodbyes and pack my belongings. He rented a hotel room at the Holiday Inn in Washington D.C. I asked him later on what that night was like. How he felt. He had told me stories of war and attacks that he remembered from his childhood in Egypt. He said nothing in his life had come close to the fear he felt that night. The tension, being alone in the hotel room and not knowing if I was safe or if he was safe. All of it, he said, was experienced as a deep, incomparable fear.  

Leaving time 

We left the next morning in the borrowed vehicle my dad had driven down to Maryland from upstate New York. I said goodbye with many tears. Due to the circumstances in the United States, the fear for my friends that I loved so dearly and the distance between us; it was the saddest I have ever been. I felt paralyzed with emotion. I got in the car with my dad and we began our journey back to Canada.  

We drove straight through from Maryland to New York, meeting up with his friend Chris when we arrived. During the trip, my dad and I talked a lot. We shared a lot. We shared things we never had before and despite my sadness, there was a deep gratitude and love that I was with him. I wanted to be with him and needed help processing everything that had happened.  

Upon arriving in New York, Chris drove with us through the Canadian border and on to Ottawa. My mom had been in contact with both of us and wouldn’t even let my brother go to school because she was so afraid. I recall he had slept in anyway and she told him to go back to bed and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Chris and my dad said goodbye to one another and then we flew from Ottawa to Winnipeg.  

Ever after 

The world was never the same again. I had never experienced war, terrorism or anything of the magnitude of 9/11. I would venture to say most people hadn’t. I did not see Nancy for a long time. She delivered a healthy baby girl that December and the following September, I began University. As time passed I was able to visit again. Maryland is a home for me that I will hold in my heart forever. So little time and such significance. I still have an amazing group of friends that I feel connected to and every visit is filled with happiness and then much grief when I leave.  

Sometimes a story has no happily ever after and this is one of them. The world became a different place after 9/11. To this day, I see the impact of what happened as well as the fear and distrust it created. Citizens from 78 different countries died in the attacks on that horrible Tuesday morning. As I reflect and write about this experience, I cannot do so without honouring those who were lost. 

September 11th, 2001

At the World Trade Center, 2,763 people died. That figure includes 343 firefighters and paramedics, 23 New York City police officers and 37 Port Authority officers who were trying to evacuate the buildings.  

At the Pentagon, 189 people died. That figure includes 64 people on American Airlines Flight 77.  

In Pennsylvania, 44 people died. Everyone aboard Flight 93.  

My deepest, most sincere condolences to those who lost loved ones. That day will never be forgotten.  

The day the world changed.