Tuesday a week ago was September 11th. Given the importance of the day, I felt like writing a memorial post. However, one thing kept me from doing so.
I had to board a plane.
For the second time in the last 11 years, I had to fly on September 11th. I shouldn’t be afraid. I know it’s probably a stupid fear. Airports likely lock down more on September 11th than any other day of the year, making it a safer day to fly than most. Still, I didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to mention it to my wife and kids. Didn’t want them to know that I was nervous about it. Didn’t want to create unnecessary worry. And things were fine. My flight was full. The airport was full, too. It took me a long time to find a parking space as well as a long time to get through security. I held my breath when I boarded at the Atlanta airport and breathed a sigh of relief when I got to my hotel in Tampa.
Like I said, it’s an irrational fear. I was in more danger when I drove myself to and from the Atlanta airport than I was on the plane.
Yet the only thing I cared about was getting home to my wife and kids—the one place in the world where I feel more safe than anywhere else.
Does it bother you when you fly? Would it bother you more to fly on September 11th?