Airplane Ride on September 11, 2001
Craig von Buseck
CBN.com Contributing Writer
-- It was a peaceful morning. I awoke with a sense of anticipation -- it
was that feeling of serenity that you have as you prepare to take a long-anticipated
journey. My boss, Tim, and I would be flying to Chicago that morning to be part
of an Internet evangelism consultation. As the Director of Programming for CBN.com
I had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of September 11, 2001.
before I had plugged in my cell phone to recharge it for the trip. I placed it
on the window ledge in the living room so that I would remember to pick it up
on the way out the door the next morning. The stars still filled the blackened
sky when Tim arrived. The Virginia air was already warming -- it would be a beautiful
Still rubbing sleep from my eyes I boarded the plane at Williamsburg
Airport and settled into my seat. It was just after 6 a.m. The first sliver of
turquoise-colored sky began to inch upward from above the tree line at the edge
of the runway. I picked up the in-flight magazine and thumbed through it for a
moment. I looked up to see the other passengers brushing past me in the aisle.
Suddenly my eyes caught the gaze of a young man of middle-eastern descent. He
wore a long robe and a turban on his head. Part of my job includes staying up
to date on current events in the news. For my entire adult life I had followed
the turbulent events in the Middle East. A friend of mine was killed by terrorists
when the Marine Corps barracks were bombed in 1983. Since that time I had been
very aware of the threat of terrorism. When this man walked down the aisle of
that aircraft my first thought was, "Could this person be a terrorist?" Later
my boss told me that he had the very same thought.
The flight to Atlanta
was without incident, and we arrived just after 7 a.m. with a layover before our
flight to Chicago. Tim and I grabbed a light breakfast and discussed the upcoming
meeting before we boarded the second plane and settled in for the flight. A passenger
had left a copy of that morning's New York Times on my seat, so I decided
to thumb through it. One of the headlines was of the assassination of Afghan opposition
leader Ahmed Shah Massoud, a veteran commander in the 1979-1989 war against Soviet
occupation. In the months leading up to September 11 a confrontation had been
growing between the Taliban leadership in Afghanistan and the United Nations who
demanded the deportation of Osama bin Laden to face charges of masterminding the
bombing of two U.S. embassies in 1998. I had seen videotape of bin Laden and his
terror training camps in Afghanistan. I remembered the chilling scenes of the
terrorists breaking into rooms and shooting mannequins with crosses and stars
of David painted onto them. The Taliban had made international headlines earlier
in the year when they destroyed two immense, 2,000-year-old images of Buddha carved
into the side of an Afghan mountain. The New York Times speculated that
bin Laden and the Taliban were responsible for the death of this Northern Alliance
military leader. "I wonder how this assassination will affect the United States,"
I thought as I finished the article. Little did I realize bin Laden's master plan,
of which this assassination was just a part.
As I looked out the window
over the patchwork of farms in America's heartland I had no conception of the
horror that my fellow countrymen were facing at that very moment. When American
Airlines Flight 11 hit the north tower of the World Trade Center at 8:45 a.m.
I was chatting with Tim about strategy for CBN.com. When United Airlines Flight
175 slammed into the south tower at 500 miles an hour at 9:03 a.m. I was marveling
at the beautiful farmland laid out in neat blocks of various shades of green and
gold below us. American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon at 9:40 a.m.
as we began our descent into Chicago.
We landed at Midway Airport with
a tremendous jolt. The runway at the smaller of Chicago's airports is shorter,
and so as soon as we touched down the pilot reversed the engines and slammed on
the brakes. As the airplane turned I noticed the concrete wall at the end of the
runway and realized why the pilot was so eager to stop the plane. Out of the corner
of my eye I noticed a Chicago police car racing down an adjacent runway with its
blue lights flashing. As we taxied toward the airport I saw another police cruiser
with its lights flashing sitting in front of a gate next to the road. My first
thought was that perhaps this was a local drug bust or crime of some sort. Out
in the middle of the airfield our plane suddenly screeched to a halt. Within moments
the pilot spoke over the intercom. "We will need to stay here on the tarmac for
a moment as we wait for the airport to open a gate for us." I thought this was
strange, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the police cars. A few seconds
later the captain gave the passengers permission to use their cell phones and
It was at that moment that it dawned on me that I had
left my cell phone charging on the windowsill at home. Suddenly a voice from behind
me spoke in a tone and volume that sounded like he was making an announcement.
"Terrorists have hit the World Trade Center with an airplane." Throughout the
fuselage passengers were turning on their cell phones and receiving the news that
was now being broadcast around the world. Instantly the aircraft was abuzz with
conversation. "They also hit the second tower," someone cried out. "The Pentagon
has been attacked," another voice said above the din of messages.
is this obsession with the World Trade Center?" I wondered as I thought back to
the failed bombing of the twin towers in 1993. "Radical Muslim terrorists." The
thought was immediate. "Osama bin Laden." The thought was not far behind. Like
a spinning rolodex my mind flashed back to major terrorist attacks in recent years:
the bombing of the U.S.S. Cole, the embassy bombings in Kenya and Tanzania, the
suspicious crash of an Egyptian Airlines plane in 1999, the explosion at the Khobar
Towers in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, killing 19 American soldiers I caught the eyes
of my boss. We both just shook our heads in disbelief.
One thing I knew
for sure, I didn't want to be sitting in an airplane out in the middle of the
tarmac at that moment. I needed to call home to let my family know I was all right.
I needed to get to a television set to get some details. I needed to call CBN
to see what was being done on the Web site. I mentally kicked myself for leaving
my cell phone at home. After a few minutes the plane eased forward and we pulled
into a hastily cleared gate. We were met at the door by an armed security guard
who was allowing passengers off the plane, and keeping others from getting back
on. We hurried to the nearest television set and witnessed for the first time
the images of the burning World Trade Center towers. "Look at that," I exclaimed
out loud. "Can you believe that? They're both burning." A woman standing in front
of me turned and declared, "That is video tape that they're playing. The first
tower has already collapsed." I couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing.
Shaking my head I lifted up a silent prayer for the people in harm's way, for
the families of the victims, for the President, and for America. Turning to my
boss I declared, "Our lives have just changed forever. It will never be the same."
Rushing down the hall we came to a bank of telephones where we each called
our families to let them know we had landed safely. As soon as Tim finished talking
to his wife he turned to me and declared, "We have to get back to Virginia Beach."
As a producer for The 700 Club, as well as Executive Director of CBN's Internet
department, Tim knew that he needed to return to CBN to help in any way that he
could -- and he would need my assistance. Over the airport's intercom we had just
learned that all flights were now cancelled, and then the TV news announced the
suspension of all rail and bus travel as well. The country was in instant lock-down
mode. "We've got to get a rental car," Tim said as we both instinctively raced
down the hallway. Nearly everyone in the airport must have had the same idea because
the rental corridor was filled with anxious travelers. We knew almost immediately
that finding a rental car at the airport was going to be impossible. Tim had gone
to school at Wheaton College, so he knew the area and still had some friends in
Chicago. He suspected that one of them might be able to give us a ride to a rental
facility on the outskirts of town. I remained in line as Tim ran to a payphone
to try to secure some transportation to get us back to CBN.
The line never
moved an inch during the several minutes that Tim was away, confirming my suspicion
that all the rental cars were quickly taken. Tim returned to tell me that the
nearest car that he could get was in Lansing, on the other side of Lake Michigan.
He wondered out loud if he could find anyone that could take us that far away.
The telephone banks were a madhouse, and so we decided that the best thing we
could do was to get to our hotel on the other side of town near O'Hare Airport.
There we could have a safe place to stay while we decided how we were going to
At that moment in Erie, Pennsylvania, my parents turned on the
television. After watching the collapse of the first World Trade Center tower
my father -- who knew I was flying to Chicago that day -- turned to my mother
and said, "We're driving to Chicago today."
As Tim and I made our way out
of the airport to look for a shuttle to O'Hare a man came on the intercom and
announced that the airport was being evacuated. Suddenly there was a rush of humanity
streaming out of the building behind us. We got in line for a limousine ride as
crowds of people pressed in around us to board the steady stream of busses, limos,
and taxicabs that paraded in front of us. Security guards, police officers, and
airport personnel corralled the mob into neat rows and directed them onto the
proper vehicles. Again the intercom announced in a stern tone, "The airport is
being evacuated. Please move quickly and orderly out the exits." "My God," I prayed,
"I assign angels around us, and I cover Tim and I in the blood of Jesus."
our limo van arrived we paid the fare and climbed aboard. The radio was on full
volume with the news cutting back and forth between the local station and a feed
from Peter Jennings and ABC News. The local announcer read in rapid fire a list
of orders from Mayor Daley. "Downtown Chicago has been evacuated. Please leave
the inner city in an orderly fashion. All public transportation in and out of
downtown has been halted. The Sears Tower and the John Hancock Building are being
evacuated. The police and emergency services workers are at a state of high alert."
After several minutes the radio station went back to national coverage
with Peter Jennings. It was at that moment that we learned that another airliner
had been hijacked and was missing somewhere in the sky. Suddenly evacuating the
airport made perfect sense, but we were still idling in the street right next
to Midway. I couldn't wait to get on the road toward our hotel.
I was sitting
next to the window on the front bench seat of this eleven-passenger van, and Tim
was sitting next to me. Just as we were preparing to leave a middle-eastern man
climbed into the limo and sat down next to Tim. Though I knew it was not fair
to judge this man, the paranoia of the moment made his presence somewhat unwelcome.
I continued to silently pray and listen to the radio as the driver pulled out
into traffic. Little did I know that this twenty-minute drive would be one of
the most frightening parts of our day.
As we sped down the highway Peter
Jennings announced that no one had heard from the President in quite some time.
After hearing the news of the attacks on the World Trade Center, President Bush
had boarded Air Force One with news that his plane was itself a target of the
terrorists. With a tone of alarm Peter Jennings declared on this live broadcast,
"Where is the President? The country needs to know where he is!" Just as I was
processing this information the van started swerving back and forth on the highway.
With alarm Tim and I looked at each other and then at the driver, who slowly regained
control of the vehicle. Moments later the van began slowing down in the middle
of the freeway as cars sped past on the right and the left. I could see that the
driver's eyes were drooping, and it was obvious that he was fighting sleep. "Hey!"
yelled the passenger in the front seat. "Are you o.k.?" The driver shook his head
and declared that he was fine as he hit the accelerator.
Within a few minutes
the driver again began to nod his head as the van swerved in and out of the lane.
The front seat passenger blew his top, only seconds before Tim and I were ready
to grab the steering wheel. "What are you doing?" he shouted. "You're going to
get us all killed. Do you need me to drive this thing?"
"No, no, I'm fine,"
the driver responded.
"Wake up," the man yelled back. "I want to get to
the airport alive." Tim and I exchanged worried looks as my now not-so-silent
prayer continued. I don't think I was ever so relieved as when we arrived at O'Hare
and got out of that van. But the final plane was still unaccounted for, and I
was now standing inside one of the world's busiest airports. I wanted to get to
the hotel as soon as possible.
Inside the airport we found a bank of telephones
where Tim worked to find us a ride to Lansing. I decided to call my parents in
Erie, Pennsylvania, to let them know I was all right, but also to see if they
could come and pick us up if Tim's friends weren't available. My folks agreed
to help us if we needed it, and I told them I would call them back when we knew
what we could arrange. After several minutes Tim finally connected with one of
his friends, but he could only take us as far as Gary, Indiana, just south of
Chicago. No one else was answering their telephones, and so I called my parents
again to see if they could come and meet us in Gary and take us to Lansing. "We're
on our way," my father assured me without a moment of hesitation. They gave me
their cell phone number and told me to call from wherever we were dropped off
so that they could meet us. Breathing a sigh of relief I told Tim that we had
a ride to Lansing.
After touching base with our staff at CBN, Tim and I
crossed the street to wait for his friend to pick us up at the Hilton Hotel. Inside
the lobby we saw for the first time the videotape of the second airliner hitting
the World Trade Center. We witnessed the crumbling of the second tower. And we
learned that the final plane had crashed somewhere outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Immediately I thought of my brother who lives in Pittsburgh, and lifted up a prayer
for his safety. Later my mother told me that when she finally reached him my brother
said to her, "You don't have to worry about me, Mom. I know I'll be with
Jesus when I die." His words of faith gave me peace in the midst of the turmoil
of that terrible day.
After an hour Tim's friend from college arrived and
drove us south to Gary where he dropped us off at a colorful truck stop -- a slice
of pure Americana, straight out of a Charlie Daniels' music video. Surrounded
by good ole' boys wearing jeans, flannel shirts, and baseball caps I felt as well-protected
at that moment as I would if a platoon of Marines were my personal bodyguards.
It was the first time I felt truly safe since landing in Chicago -- it was a good
feeling. This truck stop had everything a traveler could want, from a gift shop,
to a pool hall, to a video arcade, to hot showers. And the smorgasbord of food
at the diner was out of this world. With an air of comfortable tackiness, this
dingy but delightful establishment was the perfect place to reflect on the horrific
events of the day.
Tim and I took turns going up to the television lounge
on the second floor while the other remained on the lookout for my parents down
in the diner. The room was configured like a mini-theater with a large-screen
television on the wall and several rows of padded folding chairs with an aisle
down the middle. Watching the news coverage unfolding on the large screen in front
of me I was both amused and comforted by the verbal responses of the truckers.
"Load my rig down with TNT, baby, and I will drive it right into Osama bin Laden's
tent," one grizzled man shouted to the applause of the others. "We can't let this
go unanswered," another man shouted. "We need to hit 'em back, and hit 'em hard."
At the same time my heart ached for the family members who were desperately
searching for their loved ones. Like shell-shocked soldiers, family members held
up large photographs of their sons, daughters, wives, husbands, fathers, and mothers.
At one point the CNN reporter could not contain her emotions and she broke down
in tears on live television. Again I prayed for our country, and asked God to
give grace and comfort to those who had lost so much in such a senseless act.
Later that evening I joined the crowd gathered around a bank of televisions
on the first floor to listen to the President as he addressed a grieving nation.
"Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under
attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in
airplanes or in their offices -- secretaries, businessmen and women, military
and federal workers. Moms and dads. Friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives
were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror."
can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the
foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel
of American resolve. America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest
beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light
"Amen," I said out loud.
After the speech I walked
over to the diner where Tim was seated. "They rented our car in Lansing, but we
may be able to get another one in Cleveland," he told me. A few moments later
my weary-eyed parents walked through the doors. Seeing them in this shabby truck
stop, at the end of this momentous day in the history of America was a surreal
experience. These wonderful people, who would drop everything and travel eight
hours to pick up their stranded son, stood in stark contrast to the evil and barbaric
madmen who inflicted such atrocities on thousands of innocent civilians. I hugged
them both, and had to fight back tears as I introduced my two 9/11 heroes to my
Back on the highway we called ahead to get directions to the car
rental in Cleveland only to discover that this vehicle was also rented before
we could get to it. "Well, I guess we're going to Virginia," my father said with
a weary smile. We drove into the night, stopping at an Ohio hotel to catch a few
hours of sleep. On the road early the next day Tim worked the cell phone, setting
up guests and interviews for The 700 Club. I wanted to write my thoughts but couldn't
seem to find the energy to put pen to paper. Late on the night of September 12
we arrived in Virginia Beach.
Mom and Dad stayed the night at my home and
then drove back to Pennsylvania the following day -- another eleven-hour drive.
I will never forget this act of selfless love. But in my heart I knew that they
would do it if I asked them. I hope I can be a small reflection to my kids of
the ongoing sacrificial love they have shown to my siblings and me.
and I returned to work early that morning. I sat down at my computer and began
preparing a response to the words of death uttered by Osama bin Laden and his
cohorts. The words of life that I helped to publish became the 50
Days of Faith, a call to prayer, repentance, and revival in America.
is now a year later, and I finally have the energy to write of the events of that
fateful day. So much has changed in my life in the past 365 days -- as it has
in the lives of every American. We mourn the loss of life, but we also marvel
that not more people were killed. We share in the grief of the firefighters and
police who lost brothers and sisters in this act of cowardice. But we beam with
pride at the selfless acts of heroism displayed on that day, and every day, here
in this great country by our firefighters and police officers. Our hearts ached
at the slow and painful process of sifting through the debris of the twin towers
and the Pentagon, searching for remains. But we marvel at the rebuilt Pentagon,
and at the relative speed with which the World Trade Center site was cleared.
Statistically speaking I came very close to death on September 11, 2001.
There were a limited number of airplanes in the sky on that beautiful and horrible
morning. My plane could have easily been a target of terrorism. In fact, it was
later learned that Atlanta was one of the airports where a highjacking might have
taken place if air traffic had not been suspended. In a sense this thought makes
me soberly consider how fleeting life can be. In another sense this experience
has reinforced my feeling of responsibility to the Lord to take the Gospel message
to lost and hurting people in America and around the world.
Yes, those who
love liberty lost much that we hold dear on that fateful day. But one year later
we remain strong and resolute in our determination that the very freedom that
was attacked on September 11, 2001, will be defended on these shores. And these
ideals will be shed abroad as we press forward in our war on terror, and in our
outstretched hand of friendship to those who love peace. May God bless America,
and may we remain that shining city on a hill carrying the torch of freedom on
this earth -- and the eternal liberty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the nations.
from CBN.com's special 9/11 Tribute
More Discipleship Resources on Spiritual Life
More from Spiritual Life
Order your copy of Seven Keys to Hearing God's Voice on Shop CBN
More from Craig von Buseck on CBN.com
me an e-mail with your comments
Craig von Buseck is Ministries Director
CBN IS HERE FOR YOU!
Are you seeking answers in life? Are you hurting?
Are you facing a difficult situation?
A caring friend will be there to pray with you in your time of need.