WEBBTIDE 2001-2002 @ SHORELINE COMMUNITY COLLEGE

Feb. 01 - Feb. 14, 2002 ARCHIVE GUESTBOOK HELP
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Stranded down under during attack on America

.
      September 11, 2001, a day that will forever be etched into the memory and history books, not only of Americans, but citizens around the world. I had the unique experience of being in Auckland, New Zealand, during this tragic day.
      My friend Tammy and I were airline employees taking advantage of our generous flight benefits: she to visit her boyfriend Chris, and myself, to explore a new part of the world. Little did we know it would alter both our lives and careers, forever.
      The afternoon of Sept. 11 was spent in Rotorua, at their world renowned thermal springs, followed by a fresh fish and chips dinner at a nearby "take-away" restaurant(note: Auckland is 20 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time (PST)). However, what we experienced the following day would forever alter our lives.
      We were awakened at approximately six a.m. (10 a.m. PST) by a phone call from Chris's mother, who lives on New Zealand's South Island. Chris came barging into my guest bedroom, "Drew, come look at the television, America is being attacked by terrorists."
      For some odd reason, both Tammy and I thought he was joking. However, much to our shock and dismay, he was not. For the next four hours we proceeded to watch coverage of this unfathomable act, alternating between local broadcasts and "live" CNN coverage.
      As was the case with millions of others, we continued to feel like this was a horrible dream, something that closely rivaled a Stephen King production. We watched as the first airplane crashed into the World Trade Center followed by the fatality estimates scrolling across the bottom of the screen, speechless all the while. We glanced at one another, almost as if to say, "Is this really happening?"
      The local news stations were interrupting regularly scheduled broadcasting with scenes from CNN the image being replayed on CNN as though it was an entertaining video game, and interviews with airline and terrorist, related "experts," speculating on why this may have happened.
      The cameras shifted to the scared and puzzled office workers stumbling their way out of the towers, people jumping out of windows instead of attempting to scramble down the stairs desperately trying to save their own lives. Finally, we pried ourselves off the couch and headed downtown for more sightseeing, with every step feeling as if we were sleepwalking.
      Local TV stations sent reporters to Wellington, the capital city, and interviewed grief stricken locals as they placed flowers on the gates of the American consulate building. The locals talked of friends and relatives that worked in the World Trade Center, shaking with every word. The attacks quickly became the number one topic amongst radio talk shows, it dominated the headlines and put rugby on the back pages, which is nearly unheard of in New Zealand. The media referred to it as the "largest massacre on American soil since Pearl Harbor, maybe ever."
      As the news began to spread throughout the city, we began to feel the impact from 5,000 miles away. Downtown Auckland felt eerily quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, brisk crowds scattered along the sidewalks, a handful of birds circling above the waterfront, and then we saw our first sight of it, a bold headline in the local paper: "AMERICA UNDER ATTACK." We skimmed the article, feeling shivers up and down our spine. We were unable to comprehend what our eyes were reading. The paper was covered with pictures that looked like still-photos taken from the movie "Die Hard."
      The locals were incredibly nice, supportive and extremely sympathetic when learning that we hailed from the United States, a country that suddenly seemed vulnerable. "I'm very sorry," was a common response to learning our nationality, and "Is there anything we can do for you?" was asked us by countless locals. "Do you have any relatives in New York?" was another question that we were both able to answer negatively.
      Thursday brought about a couple of new challenges for myself. The first was the closure of the U.S. stock market, which provided us the rare sight of blank screens where American currency was normally exchanged at local banks and on sidewalks. The second became my number one priority for the next three days, how do I get home?
      This problem became twofold for me, not only was I a stand-by passenger as an airline employee, but now I had the additional dilemma of no international departures for at least three days. I was a customer service agent at Seattle-Tacoma International airport, and Tammy was a flight attendant based in Portland, Oregon. I was originally supposed to return to work the following Monday, so I emailed my supervisors upon realizing my situation.
      I went to the United Airlines office downtown to ask them for advice as to how to get home, and was met by an armed security guard in the lobby. I showed him my airline identification and passport and was granted access to the elevator. My associate was overly-friendly considering the circumstances, but I quickly learned the chances of leaving were "slim to none."
      "All flights have been cancelled until at least Saturday, and we have been advised to not accept any stand-by passengers until Sept. 21." I returned to the lobby and passed the news onto Tammy, who seemed only mildly surprised. Chris and Tammy had already planned to spend the weekend at a friend's house, so I became a late addition due to my inability to leave.
      I had put off all thoughts of leaving until early Sunday, at which time I called the downtown office for an update. I was pleasantly shocked to hear that flights had begun normal service, and it would be in my best interest to attempt that evening's flight.
      I informed Chris of this latest news, and we returned home in time to throw my suitcase together and catch the bus to the airport. I reached the airport in plenty of time, not knowing what to expect for any new security directives. Everything seemed to be status quo, yet eerily quiet around the ticket counter. After a short nerve-wracking wait, I received my boarding pass and was soon airborne en route home.
      I found myself glancing around the 777 interior, much more attentive to detail than normal, I even listened to the in flight safety briefing for the first time in countless flights. After an uneventful ten and a half hour flight, I proceeded through U.S. customs in a surprisingly expeditious manner, and was lucky enough to get on the next flight to Seattle.
      The flight brought a new set of emotions, though I was tired from the long international flight, I was also nervous about being back over American airspace: Would my flight be the next to succumb to terrorists? My sense of security had been shattered by faceless cowards, and familiar surroundings were suddenly viewed through a new perspective.
      To paraphrase Mark Twain, "The greatest pleasure that travel affords, is to arrive back home and see it as though for the first time." I had only been gone for one week, yet the immediate differences were startling.
      Due to the new security measures, there were no friends or relatives greeting the arriving flight, and Sea-Tac had a ghostly feel to it. The lobby and gate areas of Sea-Tac were quiet, conversation levels were similar to that of a library, and there was a noticeable increase in police and security presence.
      The mere act of flying, although statistically safer than other vehicle travel, implemented a series of stricter safety and security standards that will dramatically alter the way air travel in the U.S. functions.
      The events of the past week also set in motion events that would alter my life as I had grown accustomed to on a daily basis. Though Tammy remains actively employed following the terrorist attacks, I was laid-off and began the next phase of my life, that of a student.

.

by Drew Turner

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Stranded down under during attack on America
.	September 11, 2001, a day that will forever be etched into the memory and history books, not only of Americans, but citizens around the world. I had the unique experience of being in Auckland, New Zealand, during this tragic day. My friend Tammy and I were airline employees taking advantage of our generous flight benefits: she to visit her boyfriend Chris, and myself, to explore a new part of the world. Little did we know it would alter both our lives and careers, forever. The afternoon of Sept. 11 was spent in Rotorua, at their world renowned thermal springs, followed by a fresh fish and chips dinner at a nearby "take-away" restaurant(note: Auckland is 20 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time (PST)). However, what we experienced the following day would forever alter our lives. We were awakened at approximately six a.m. (10 a.m. PST) by a phone call from Chris's mother, who lives on New Zealand's South Island. Chris came barging into my guest bedroom, "Drew, come look at the television, America is being attacked by terrorists." For some odd reason, both Tammy and I thought he was joking. However, much to our shock and dismay, he was not. For the next four hours we proceeded to watch coverage of this unfathomable act, alternating between local broadcasts and "live" CNN coverage. As was the case with millions of others, we continued to feel like this was a horrible dream, something that closely rivaled a Stephen King production. We watched as the first airplane crashed into the World Trade Center followed by the fatality estimates scrolling across the bottom of the screen, speechless all the while. We glanced at one another, almost as if to say, "Is this really happening?" The local news stations were interrupting regularly scheduled broadcasting with scenes from CNN the image being replayed on CNN as though it was an entertaining video game, and interviews with airline and terrorist, related "experts," speculating on why this may have happened. The cameras shifted to the scared and puzzled office workers stumbling their way out of the towers, people jumping out of windows instead of attempting to scramble down the stairs desperately trying to save their own lives. Finally, we pried ourselves off the couch and headed downtown for more sightseeing, with every step feeling as if we were sleepwalking. Local TV stations sent reporters to Wellington, the capital city, and interviewed grief stricken locals as they placed flowers on the gates of the American consulate building. The locals talked of friends and relatives that worked in the World Trade Center, shaking with every word. The attacks quickly became the number one topic amongst radio talk shows, it dominated the headlines and put rugby on the back pages, which is nearly unheard of in New Zealand. The media referred to it as the "largest massacre on American soil since Pearl Harbor, maybe ever." As the news began to spread throughout the city, we began to feel the impact from 5,000 miles away. Downtown Auckland felt eerily quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, brisk crowds scattered along the sidewalks, a handful of birds circling above the waterfront, and then we saw our first sight of it, a bold headline in the local paper: "AMERICA UNDER ATTACK." We skimmed the article, feeling shivers up and down our spine. We were unable to comprehend what our eyes were reading. The paper was covered with pictures that looked like still-photos taken from the movie "Die Hard." The locals were incredibly nice, supportive and extremely sympathetic when learning that we hailed from the United States, a country that suddenly seemed vulnerable. "I'm very sorry," was a common response to learning our nationality, and "Is there anything we can do for you?" was asked us by countless locals. "Do you have any relatives in New York?" was another question that we were both able to answer negatively. Thursday brought about a couple of new challenges for myself. The first was the closure of the U.S. stock market, which provided us the rare sight of blank screens where American currency was normally exchanged at local banks and on sidewalks. The second became my number one priority for the next three days, how do I get home? This problem became twofold for me, not only was I a stand-by passenger as an airline employee, but now I had the additional dilemma of no international departures for at least three days. I was a customer service agent at Seattle-Tacoma International airport, and Tammy was a flight attendant based in Portland, Oregon. I was originally supposed to return to work the following Monday, so I emailed my supervisors upon realizing my situation. I went to the United Airlines office downtown to ask them for advice as to how to get home, and was met by an armed security guard in the lobby. I showed him my airline identification and passport and was granted access to the elevator. My associate was overly-friendly considering the circumstances, but I quickly learned the chances of leaving were "slim to none." "All flights have been cancelled until at least Saturday, and we have been advised to not accept any stand-by passengers until Sept. 21." I returned to the lobby and passed the news onto Tammy, who seemed only mildly surprised. Chris and Tammy had already planned to spend the weekend at a friend's house, so I became a late addition due to my inability to leave. I had put off all thoughts of leaving until early Sunday, at which time I called the downtown office for an update. I was pleasantly shocked to hear that flights had begun normal service, and it would be in my best interest to attempt that evening's flight. I informed Chris of this latest news, and we returned home in time to throw my suitcase together and catch the bus to the airport. I reached the airport in plenty of time, not knowing what to expect for any new security directives. Everything seemed to be status quo, yet eerily quiet around the ticket counter. After a short nerve-wracking wait, I received my boarding pass and was soon airborne en route home. I found myself glancing around the 777 interior, much more attentive to detail than normal, I even listened to the in flight safety briefing for the first time in countless flights. After an uneventful ten and a half hour flight, I proceeded through U.S. customs in a surprisingly expeditious manner, and was lucky enough to get on the next flight to Seattle. The flight brought a new set of emotions, though I was tired from the long international flight, I was also nervous about being back over American airspace: Would my flight be the next to succumb to terrorists? My sense of security had been shattered by faceless cowards, and familiar surroundings were suddenly viewed through a new perspective. To paraphrase Mark Twain, "The greatest pleasure that travel affords, is to arrive back home and see it as though for the first time." I had only been gone for one week, yet the immediate differences were startling. Due to the new security measures, there were no friends or relatives greeting the arriving flight, and Sea-Tac had a ghostly feel to it. The lobby and gate areas of Sea-Tac were quiet, conversation levels were similar to that of a library, and there was a noticeable increase in police and security presence. The mere act of flying, although statistically safer than other vehicle travel, implemented a series of stricter safety and security standards that will dramatically alter the way air travel in the U.S. functions. The events of the past week also set in motion events that would alter my life as I had grown accustomed to on a daily basis. Though Tammy remains actively employed following the terrorist attacks, I was laid-off and began the next phase of my life, that of a student.	.
by Drew Turner