Every once in a while I will hear that Allen Jackson song come on the radio. It immediately takes me back to September 11, 2001. My now ex-wife was nine months pregnant with my first son, I had just started as the vice president of loss prevention with Stage Stores in April of that year, and it was a beautiful September morning. I was travelling with the director of employee relations in Oklahoma City for a regional store managers' meeting. I was standing at the back of the room when I received a cell phone call from my wife. I ignored my vibrating phone and continued to listen to the first presentation. She called two more times and then sent me a text in all caps saying, "CALL ME NOW!" I excused myself from the room and went into the hallway to call her. When she answered the phone, she was on the verge of hysteria. You see, her entire family is from New York. Her mom worked down on Wall Street and her sister and my brother-in-law also both worked in the city. She had heard about the first plane on her way to work and nearly drove off the road. By the time she was able to speak to me, she was at work watching the news. While she was on the phone with me, the second plane hit! That was almost too much for her to bear. I told her to try to contact her mom and sister and make sure they were all right. I hung up the phone and pulled the HR director out of the meeting to inform her. I suggested that we get back to the airport immediately and get on a plane back to Houston.
By the time I called the airlines to request a flight out of Oklahoma City, the airport had been shut down. We talked about it and decided that the smartest thing for us to do at that point would be to rent a car and drive back to Houston. We both took to the phones and tried to find a rental car. We tried several different car rental agencies with no luck. In a matter of thirty minutes after they closed the airport, all rental cars were taken. I finally got in touch of one agency that had one vehicle left-an F-150 pick-up truck. It was the best we were going to get, so I took it.
The store manager of that store was gracious enough to drive us to the rental agency. We threw our bags into the back of the pick-up and headed toward Texas. We still had not seen what had happened nor did we have any of the details, so we turned on the radio. Of course, every station was buzzing with the news. The reports were not clear, but they had confirmed that there were two planes that had hit the twin towers, and that both towers had collapsed. All we were able to determine there on that lone stretch of road was that our nation was under attack and that those freedoms and liberties that we sometimes had taken for granted were now being challenged by an unknown attacker.
Then we heard about the attack on the Pentagon. It was a very strange feeling. I can remember feeling angry that someone would dare attack the United States on our own soil, frustrated that I was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't help or lend assistance. I felt concern for my family, and wondered what type of world my unborn son would now grow up in.
We were about twelve to fourteen hours away from Houston. There were very few cars on the road. We attempted to call our office, but most of the people had gone home for the day. We found out that we had a contingent of buyers in New York City that day and that there was no word from them. In fact, pretty much all cell phone traffic in and out of the city was down. My wife had finally reached my mother-in-law who was attempting to get out of the city and back to her home in Staten Island. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law who lived in the city had not been heard from either. He was somewhere down in the financial district, but no one had been able to contact him.
By late afternoon we had reached Dallas. I remember commenting how blue the sky was. There wasn't a cloud to be found. Then I realized that there were no condensation trails left from the many jets that normally filled the skies. Of course, all airports had been shut down. It was an eerie feeling. We continued to listen to the radio for bits and pieces of information. We could only imagine in our minds what the devastation might look like in New York and in D.C. By this time we had also learned about the plane that went down in the field in Pennsylvania. Sketchy reports of heroism coming from the passengers of that ill-fated flight began to filter through the news media.
As we neared the city of Waco, I noticed something very disturbing and different. There were now con trails in the sky. Since there was no wind to speak of, they seemed to stay in the sky forever. How could this be since all flights were grounded? Then I noticed something even more curious. It was clear that the planes that had left those con trails were repeating a long oval path that extended as far as the eye could see. Then I saw them. They were tiny specs in the distance, but it was clear to me that those planes were not commercial airliners. They were fighters, probably F-15s that were patrolling the airspace between Houston and Dallas. To this day, I will never forget that sight, or the feeling in the pit of my stomach that I felt upon seeing it. We drove on in silence for what seemed to be an eternity.
When we finally reached our destination and said our goodbyes, it was clear that we had shared something that day that we would never forget. We were soon reunited with our families. By that time, all of my in-laws had been located and all were safe and sound. Several friends of my other brother and sister-in-law had been part of the first responders. One of my brothers-in-law's best friends, a firefighter, was killed in the collapse of the twin towers. Many, many of their friends and acquaintances had been killed or injured in the attacks. I am sure that day is burned in their memories deeper and more profoundly than I can ever imagine.
It's now ten years later. My life has changed drastically. I have since divorced and remarried. My oldest daughter is going away to college this month, and my middle daughter is a sophomore in high school. My son is turning ten on September 28th. He has grown up in a world that is totally different than it was prior to 9/11. Security scans at the airport, the war on terror, suicide bombers, and the Taliban are all common things in his world.
The LP world has changed also. Security in our office buildings and stores is significantly tighter than it was prior to 9/11. ORC is now a common term in our profession. Some of those groups actually have been tracked back to helping fund terrorism. The technology that both the military and the private sector have available has increased a hundred fold. We can now dial into a DVR and view a store live over the Internet wirelessly from our laptop. We have GPS tracking systems that can pinpoint an object within two or three feet of its actual location. We can track a truck by satellite or run a background check from our smartphone. So, is the world a better place than it was ten years ago? Or is it just different? I guess we can all look back and reflect and come to our own conclusions.
Chris Lauritzen is vice president of loss prevention, procurement, and new store development for Stage Stores Inc.
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