By Mona Jean Harley
Overhearing the word “airplane” several times in the crowd clued me in to the reason why the conference participants were not moving into the arena to listen to the morning keynote address. The speaker’s plane had obviously been delayed! Happens all the time, especially at a big airport like San Diego International. I continued to mill about the crowd of complete strangers, perhaps I picked up a few more slices of seasonal fruit or a small gummy danish while I was waiting. Hmmm, so the speaker’s plane was delayed, yet there has been no announcement about the apparent schedule change. And a certain hushed tone flowed among all of the conversations taking place around me amidst the palm trees, a bit like being in an open-air funeral home. I did more milling, overheard more suppressed conversations, still no movement toward the gathering area, still no announcement regarding the delay. I finally decided to warily approach a small group of hushed talkers. I waited for an opening and then posed the question, “Did something happen?”
It was September 11, 2001. I was in San Diego for a work conference, along with my husband, 5-year-old daughter and 18-month-old son. We had flown out to San Diego a few days earlier, and rented a car, even though we would barely need the car while at the conference. The rental car was its own story. Hertz initially upgraded us for free, and we loaded up the car with our suitcases and car seat, buckled in the kids and ourselves…but then the car wouldn’t start. Ugh. We found an employee, described the problem, and we were shown to another rental car. Before unloading the disabled car and loading up the next car, my husband wisely decided to first try to start the car. It started, which was a good sign, but when he attempted to adjust the seat that was in an awkward and partially reclined position, the seat didn’t budge; it was broken. We debated keeping the car anyway, since we wouldn’t be driving far, and it was late, and the kids were about falling asleep. But ultimately we decided that if we were paying for a car to drive, we wanted the seat to be properly adjustable. So they brought us a much upgraded Lincoln LS, leather interior, sunroof, and a gizmo we had never heard of before, a “GPS.” The car started, we loaded it up with suitcases, a car seat, and 2 sleepy kids, and we were off to the hotel.
The conference began the next day, at a beautiful outdoor venue at the hotel. I enjoyed the weather, the salty air, palm trees, fragrant flowers, and some workshops. Later in the afternoon, we went to the beach, although a little cool for swimming, it was beautiful to walk along the beach, wade in the water, and play in the sand. After my sessions the following day, we ventured into La Jolla, with an even more beautiful beach with rocks and coves. Our daughter has always loved the water, and at 5, it was hard to keep her out of the ocean. She 1st waded in the water, next she was up to her knees, and before we knew it, her whole outfit was wet, and she was delighted! We later bought a large-size child’s t-shirt from a street vendor that she could wear as a dress, which doubled as a souvenir. Tomorrow was September 11, the last day of my conference. We would be flying home to Madison, Wisconsin, the day after the conference ended.
After asking my innocent question to the hushed group of fellow conference attenders, they looked at me questionably and replied, “Didn’t you hear?” Well, obviously I had not. They went on to tell me about the two planes that had crashed into the Twin Towers. Stunned, and feeling very far from home, I went back to our hotel room. Fortunately, our daughter was on the balcony playing with Barbies, so my husband and I could turn on the television and learn more about what was going on, and then quickly flip it off anytime she wandered back into the hotel room. That afternoon, we spent time at the local beach, so the kids could play in the sand as my husband and I tried to figure out what in the world to do.
He had suggested we just drive the rental car home, but that seemed very daunting–we could not have been any farther from home in the continental United States! On the news, we learned that airports would open later that evening, so we held tight. Of course, airports did not open that night, or the next morning as promised, or the following evening. So we decided driving home would, in fact, be the best option. Even if we somehow stumbled upon airline tickets home, we certainly did not want to return our precious rental car and end up stuck in the airport terminal with 2 kids and tickets that actually wouldn’t get us home due to the massive backlog of stranded travelers! So we drove to a K-Mart and bought a booster seat for our daughter, a couple of toys, and an atlas map, since we weren’t quite sure how the GPS gizmo worked. However, early into our 2300-mile journey, we easily learned how to navigate the GPS! We took off toward Phoenix and spent our first night with dear college friends. It felt very grounding to be with people we knew and loved, and the kids liked playing with friends. We enjoyed a little respite from the intensity of the previous few days. A long drive the next day took us to a hotel in Oklahoma, 6 hours from Wichita. We heard from the hotel clerk that on the night of the 11th, stranded travelers were routed to that hotel, which was the closest hotel to Wichita that had vacancies. Rest areas were quiet along the interstates, even days after the 11th, there continued to be hushed tones among the few people we did encounter. Strangers were sharing moving vans to get to their destinations across the US. And all we noticed in the quiet skies were birds. Only once did our daughter ask us why we weren’t flying home. “All the airports are closed.” I replied, which was a completely satisfactory response for her. Our last night was spent with a different set of beloved friends in Kansas, allowing us to laugh, relish friendship, and again, the kids could play. When we arrived home the following night, we had beaten the air travelers, and we had driven our upgraded rental car, with the fully functioning adjustable seat, a few more miles than we had initially planned!
The afternoon before we left for San Diego, my husband and I were talking in the dining room of our home, when we heard a strange buzzing noise. It wasn’t the sound of the smoke alarm or the carbon monoxide detector. We combed the main floor and then the basement, where the culprit was discovered: one of the kids’ board books about airplanes. The book had been quietly resting on a bookshelf for at least six months, yet the push-button airplane take-off noise was now mysteriously sounding, incessantly, without anything pressing against it! The only way my husband could get the noise to stop was to dismantle the button. He wondered if this was an omen? Did this somehow mean we shouldn’t fly to San Diego the next day? Was the plane going to crash?
© 2026 Mona Jean Harley
Mona Jean Harley is looking forward to more time to write since she is freshly retired from a fulfilling 36-year career as a school social worker. She has enjoyed being part of the “First Monday First Person” writing group in Madison Wisconsin for nearly eight years. Noticing connections in life is expressed in her living and writing.
