If you’re of a certain age, you remember where you were when JFK was shot. Or when the Challenger exploded. But, for most people, time literally stood still on September 11th, 2001.
I remember my phone ringing as I was walking out the door to go to work. I cannot, for the life of me, remember who it was that called and said, “Ohmigod, turn on the TV!” When I flipped on Good Morning America, the first plane had already slammed in to the World Trade Center. I watched in disbelief as the second plane crashed in to the second tower on live television.
I headed in to work at the TV station knowing full well this would be the most surreal day of my life. The newsroom — which is typically a hubbub of activity — was almost pin-drop quiet. Spooky quiet.
Every television monitor had several people crowded around watching it. I escaped to the graphics department to gain my bearings and saw the first tower fall.
The rest of the day was a huge blur after that.
Not being a newsie, it was odd getting sent out to cover stories that day. Within an hour or so, there was a line wrapped around the block at the Blood Center of Kansas City. People who felt helpless in this situation just wanted to help in any way they could. The Blood Center was completely overwhelmed, but donors waited for hours upon hours to give the gift of life. I remember asking one gentleman why he was there. “I want to help. Something. Anything. And I don’t know what else to do,” he said. No one said much of anything, everyone was transfixed on the two tiny TVs doling out information.
After that story, we got word that there was a run on local gas stations. Panic and uncertainty meant hoarding at grocery stores. And I went from seeing lines at the Blood Center to astronomical lines at the gas pumps. Cars were stretched as far as the eye could see. Several unscrupulous convenience store owners jacked up prices to well over $5 per gallon. Didn’t matter. People were doing whatever it took to fill up their tanks.
“I hear America is running out of gas,” said one woman I interviewed. I remember standing in the middle of the road doing a stand-up, and commenting that on one side of the street gas was $2.25 a gallon … and directly across the street it was $4.99 a gallon. The cars were fifty cars deep at both stations. The shop owners were eventually charged and convicted of price gouging.
Two small stories that showed the good, the bad and the ugly in people that day.
I didn’t leave work that night until about 7pm to have dinner with a friend. There wasn’t a single customer in the restaurant. The servers crowded around the big screen TV soaking it all in. The entire country just wanted to be home with their families. I almost drove home to Des Moines just to be with my parents. In hindsight, I probably should have. But I felt a sense of pride, obligation and reverence to stay in town and do whatever I could to help my fellow news-folks cover the tragic events of that day.