I was in England (from my native California) visiting my long-distance boyfriend. We had biked to a park and were just hanging out, when he got a text message. He told me I wasn’t going to be able to go home. I thought he was kidding with me because he didn’t want me to go home. He said we should get back to his house. On the way there, he got another text message saying “turn on your television.”
He didn’t tell me what was going on until we got to his house and saw it on the television. I don’t know anyone in New York, but I still cried. I called my family, and they said to stay where I was, that it was safer than being in Los Angeles. They were even concerned about me getting on a plane, but I told them it would be safer now than ever.
I was due to fly back on 9/17/2001, but as of 9/14/2001 British Airways didn’t know if the flight would be able to leave the ground. I asked for it to be rescheduled, because I didn’t want to go to London just to be turned back. I was rescheduled for 9/24/2001, and was angered to find out when I checked in they were charging me a re-booking fee, despite their website claims about rescheduling people. I never flew BA again.
Checking in for that flight, the metal detectors must have been on their highest setting, because I wore flip flops and nothing with buttons (thinking this would help me through security faster) and I still set off the metal detector with the hooks on my bra. My feet were cold on the plane for nothing! When I got home, everything was very surreal. Two weeks had passed, and it was like it never happened, because I didn’t go through the shock and anger and mourning with everyone else. Yet, it was everywhere. Only getting back to work made me feel connected to the real world again.

