So ten years ago, I was still actively serving in the US Navy. Stationed in Atsugi, Japan, I had been out of the United States since leaving in very early 1999. During the later half of 2001, I was planning to take some leave (military's word for vacation) back in the states. Though I'd taken leave multiple times before since enlisting, this was to be my first return to the country itself. I planned on visiting my friends, catching up on things, relaxing and then heading back to Japan.
The trip itself was problematic from the start; my card was declined and I had to convince Bnak of America that I was indeed the one who had tried to make such a purchase, and then as I headed for the airport a typhoon threatened to shut down all air travel. It was fun, though, to walk through the streets to the airport through powerful winds and rain. However, as I'm sure anyone reading this can guess, the true significance of this trip was yet to occur.
I boarded my plane without any real incident, and everything was on course to land in Seattle as scheduled. The majority of the flight was completely without incident. Then as we neared the end of the flight however, and in fact had already been informed by our pilot that we would not be landing in Seattle but would instead be rerouted to land in Canada. His voice was casual, and his words were carefully chosen, but only an idiot wouldn't see that something was very wrong. Flights, to my knowledge, do not get rerouted to other countries entirely, they just get rerouted to other nearby airports. The only reason, I could see, that an incoming international flight would be rerouted out of the country entirely would be if all air traffic in the country had been completely shut down.
Being that air traffic in the entire country was apparently shut down, it was easy to deduce that something was extremely wrong. Like on a national scale, kind of wrong. Perhaps I jumped the gun, I can at least admit that, but at the time I realized that anything on a national scale for which they would shut down air traffic meant that all military personnel on leave were likely to be recalled. Which meant, if I didn't want to get charged with dereliction of duty or worse, I needed to get in touch with someone who could tell me about whether or not I needed to return early.
Over the course of the next while, how long exactly I don't remember, I watched the landscape change considerably. By the time the flight ended, we were in Yellowknife, Canada; a town so small that at one point during my stay I walked around the entire downtown area at a leisurely pace. For the time being however, I knew that I was in an airport and might be able to find some form of communication to anyone else in the Navy. Again, I may have jumped the gun, but to me it was quite obvious that this situation was likely to be rather urgent. So with that in mind, I flagged down a passing stewardess.
"I'm in the US Navy," I said as calmly and quietly as I could, "and I think I might need to get in touch with them as soon as possible. Do you know if I'll be able to do that?" In hindsight, I understand that the poor woman had likely already been informed of what was happening in New York and why we had been rerouted. She was likely, as were many people that day, extremely emotionally distressed. I doubt she even really heard what I said. With a brief few words she brushed me off, but mere moments later she returned and asked me to follow her.
At the front of the plane, just near the exit, waited a Canadian fireman. The stewardess brought me to him, and I repeated my statement that I was in the US Navy and wanted to get in touch with someone in that branch. He listened to me speak and yet, just like the stewardess, I don't think he heard a single word I said. His response was to hold out a steadying hand and, with a concerned expression, inform me that I should calm down and return to my seat. This set off at least fifteen warning bells in my head. The stewardess and fireman were both clearly shaken to their cores and they were informing me, a person not prone to outbursts of any sort at that period of my life, to calm down. I had specifically kept my voice quiet and calm to avoid exciting the other passengers on board the plane, yet they were informing me that I needed to calm down. This, more than anything, confirmed to me that something was very wrong.
Once I returned to my seat (unescorted, if I remember correctly; the stewardess remained up front with the fireman), I waited with the other people for them to let us off the plane. As they did, it was unsurprisingly in groups since this little airport was never intended to support a plane the size of the one in which we arrived. When my group of the plane was finally allowed to disembark, we filed out in lines to board a bus at the base of the plane's stairs, which took us on a very brief ride to the other side of the airport. Our bus pulled up near a row of collapsible tables, where waited a row of customs officers.
Two local policemen boarded the bus, looked over the crowd, and asked that everyone please file one by one off the bus. Then he pointed at me and said "sir, I'd like you to remain on the bus." Everyone else left, filing past the two policemen who kept their eyes on me, and once I was the last person on the plane the two officers asked me to come with them. Outside the bus, I found myself directed to a table set aside completely from those other tables to which the rest of the bus passengers were lining up. My table, instead of a customs officer, was manned by two more police officers.
As I stood, flanked by two police behind me, the two police officers across the table went through each and every item in my carry-on luggage. They flipped through my D&D books, one of the officers even mentioning to the other officer "note the name inside the cover." Which means, to my continued amusement, that the name J.L. V'Tar exists somewhere in a police report in Yellowknife, Canada. They rifled through my clothing, my bathroom items, absolutely everything I had with me. I will give that they were very polite (they were Canadian, after all), but that didn't make me feel any less insulted. Still, I do understand now, and I suspected then, that they were acting out of considerable fear.
Once I had been properly identified as Not A Terrorist (though I do understand that with my heavy black boots, black pants & long black shirt, coffin-ridden belt, strange ankh necklace, and long black trench coat I stood out among the other passengers), I was allowed to rejoin the others filing into the airport. We were put on another bus, which brought us to a building that felt to me like a newly constructed, possibly even unfinished, hotel or conference building or something. I still feel bad for the people working in that building, who had to deal with this massive influx of jet-lagged, confused, frightened passengers. As I don't remember anything particularly significant about it, I can only assume those workers did a wonderful job. I don't remember the room that I was given, which also indicates it was in no way problematic.
What I remember most vividly, of course, is the footage of the attack. I first saw it at a local bar in Yellowknife, crowded and noisy as it was with locals as well as passengers from the plane, on a large television set against the back wall. People crowded around the television, but they also clustered in little groups around the bar. I don't remember much of the people or what they were saying--my disconnect and eventual implosion were beginning around that period of my life--but I do remember the general sensation of fear.
When I approached the bar, before I could even ask for a drink, the nice young man behind that bar plunked a very large drink in front of me. "It's on the house," he said with a look of concern, and quickly moved on to one of his other considerable number of customers. A tiny gesture, sure, but it's one of many similar gestures I remember around that period, as people simply felt bad and wanted to do something, anything, even if it didn't really seem to matter. I thanked the lovely bartender, but then as per my usual I didn't interact with the people around me. Instead I nursed my drink, and a couple others as the night wore on, just watching the footage on the television. I have vague memories that the bar had internet access, and I believe I may have done something on the livejournal account that I kept back then.
I don't remember exactly how long I stayed in Yellowknife. I believe it was at least two days, though it may have been three. Again, as usual, I didn't interact with anyone during my stay there. In hindsight this was likely one of the things that bothered those around me. Ignorant and frustrating though I may find it, most human beings apparently find it strange that I don't want to interact with everyone around me at all times. So they found it odd that, while they were running around in a near panic discussing, spreading, and exacerbating rumors or all different colors, I remained aloof from all of them. I remained quiet, I caused no trouble, I simply read the copy of Alice in Wonderland that I had in my coat pocket. Which again, given its incongruity, was likely something that aggravated the people around me.
Yet once the stay was over, I had my first genuine offense in the post-9/11 world. As we all waited in the airport for the bus that would take us back to our plane, I was pulled aside by either a policeman or a security officer, I don't remember which. What I do remember is where they took me. Off to a little area out of view of the other passengers, I was met by a man wearing a pilot's uniform. He identified himself by name, though I don't remember it, and informed me that he was the co-pilot of the plane on which I had arrived and would be leaving. Though most of the conversation is lost to me, I clearly remember a few certain images. He looked like a ridiculous 60's caricature by his uniform, his stance, and his glasses, as he informed me "I'm an officer in the Air Force reserve. I've heard reports that you've been disruptive on our stay here." Disruptive? I read a book!
I informed this member of the reserve that I was a member of the active, and that I had been in no way disruptive. He pretty much ignored me, except by acknowledging my status as active military to say "I'm giving you a direct order to behave for the remainder of our journey. Is that understood?" I was, and still am, exceedingly confused and aggravated by this. Yet given the mood of people, and the circumstances, I didn't doubt for one single instant that this ridiculous man would make good his threat to leave me behind. So I bit my tongue, I figuratively bowed my head, and I said "yes, sir." I still had been given no opportunity to contact the Navy.
The rest of my brief leave is pretty much just a collage of short memories. I think my cousin James picked me up and drove me to stay with my friend Kenneth. I remember I stayed overnight in Ken and Nathan's apartment, and to no surprise I learned in the morning that I was being recalled. There was a brief moment of stupidity perpetrated by Ken, Nathan and me that morning, but that's another story. The next bit I remember is being at Christelle's place, where she graciously allowed me to stay until my plane back to Japan left in the morning.
I do, however, vividly remember one bit that happened that night. There was a couple who lived above a couple floors above Christelle somewhere, I was never certain where. At one point I remember I was outside, and one of those two young men was collapsed on the sidewalk outside the building, wracked with sobs from which no one could apparently calm him. To my understanding not only were a number of his friends on one of the planes that hit the buildings in New York, not only were they on that plane specifically to come visit him, but he had paid for their tickets. I remember that well. I sometimes wonder what happened to him after that.
The next morning, my flight left the states, and I returned to Japan. I learned many things during that strange little adventure. Among them I learned how disconnected I had become from those around me. I also learned that I simply do not fit with most people; by simply doing nothing, I can be accused of being disruptive. Most importantly however, I learned just how ruled by fear people really are.
So yeah. No point to this post, really. I was planning on restarting my blog anyway, and here we are on the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Why not tell my part of the story? So there it is.
