Nostalgia Sunday – 9-11

September 6, 2009 - 11:13 PM by

9-11_collage_150In five days, it will have been eight years since September 11, 2001 and it looks like this year’s 9/11 anniversary is going to pass without much media fanfare. (Unless something happens, of course, and you know what I mean by “something”). So I thought I would finally share the story of what happened to me that day and how I ended up in a refugee camp in Amsterdam.

Yes, the International Red Cross runs — or ran, at least — four refugee camps in Amsterdam but for the life of me, I cannot tell you where exactly I was sent to stay from Schiphol Airport. That is because 9/11 was, as we Israelis say, a big “balagan”. I can tell you that when I landed there at about 1:30 on a stopover en route back to Israel, the airport was functioning normally. I can tell you that at about 2:15pm, I saw a bunch of people over at the airport lounge staring, transfixed, at the bank of TV screens. I traipsed over in my high-heeled boots to see all the screens, save one, tuned to CNN’s coverage as the first tower was hit. That last screen was broadcasting a bike race. This was Holland, after all.

My initial reaction was, “I’d better buy a pair of comfortable shoes because I think I’m going to be here awhile.” So I trundled off to the Timberland store and purchased a pair of slides, during which time the second tower was hit. I went back to the lounge and watched as news of the Pentagon attack came in. That damn bike race kept on going. Then Schiphol, in the first of a number of panicked moves, announced that it was shutting down the televisions — ostensibly to keep people from panicking.

News began circulating among passengers that airspace around the world was shutting down, and people began rushing towards the various airline counters, trying to find out what was happening to their flights. “You’ve got to get organized,” I said to the KLM counter attendant who was busily shooing the Israelis away from her space. She looked at me and said something completely un-Israeli. “I don’t have to get organized,” she said. It was my first encounter with the concept known as the Dutch Uncle.

On a grander scale, Schiphol decided to do the exact same thing. They decided they didn’t have to get organized. The airport announced that it was shutting down, that all passengers had to vacate the premises, and take their luggage with them. And then, Schiphol proceeded to unload all the suitcases, all at once, from all of the planes. 18 baggage carousels began disgorging bags, one after another, without any rhyme or reason. People were crawling all around through a maze of suitcases. Six hours later, I found my stuff.

For me it was an eye-opener as to how quickly systems can break down. Imagine if Schiphol had been an attack target, as management apparently feared. Someone, however, was astute enough to call in the Red Cross — and that is when things did, indeed, get organized. Red Cross staffers came in with bottled water, soft drinks and potato chips. Also, as the hotels in town were now completely full, they had arranged for transport to take us to a place where, they promised, KLM would be able to see to our flights and where there was a place to sleep. And so, with suitcases in tow, my new, comfortable shoes, and visions of Anne Frank in my head, I boarded a bus full of strangers and rode out into the cold, wet, dark night.

And ended up in an enormous refugee camp on the outskirts of Amsterdam where I handed over my passport, was registered, and in return issued a tan fleece blanket, a KLM washkit and some supplies produced for the Red Cross by a company called De Ridder B.V. These included a toothbrush pre-embedded with toothpaste…shampoo packets… and paper underwear, pairs of which the KLM staffers — sensitive as always — had jokingly put on their heads.

The name “de Ridder”, is Middle Dutch for ‘knight’, ‘rider’, ‘horseman’. The Crusader aspect of the name was lost neither on the company, whose logo at the time was a knight in armor on a horse, brandishing a sword and shield with a red cross on it, nor on myself. (The logo has since been downsized to a knight with a sword and shield but no horse). I stood there in the communal washroom, looking down at the shampoo packet, and realized that the Crusades were still going on. I knew the attackers knew they were fighting a holy war, and I also knew that the attacked didn’t know this.

I couldn’t find any Israelis till I ran into Mira from Rehovot who told me she’d heard that all the Israelis had banded together immediately and gone en masse to another camp. “I don’t feel comfortable here,” she said. “There aren’t any other Israelis. I’m going back to the airport. I heard they’ll put you on a plane if you go there.” And there went my only homeland connection.

I spent the first two days and nights in my refugee camp, as I’ve come to call think of it, in a haze of jet-lagged confusion, wrapped in a blanket, watching the endless hours of wreckage, feeling like the end of the world had come, eating junk food (the Red Cross kept us well-supplied with kuchen and krispen), and watching a group of Sudanese boys playing on the two foosball tables. I asked one of them what the letters on his sweatshirt stood for and he spelled out the name of an international relief agency, explaining that he and his friends were on their way to be resettled in the US. Oh, it suddenly hit me. These were real refugees.

So I snapped out of my funk. Chatted with people who kept on coming in and heard their stories: one couple’s flight had been turned back an hour out of Chicago, another rerouted to the Nova Scotia airport in only their summer clothes. Stuck to the KLM staffers like the proverbial white on rice and on the third day they called my name over the camp loudspeaker and told me El Al had arranged a flight back to Israel. KLM were pretty complimentary about El Al’s functioning — apparently there were other airlines that didn’t get organized.

At the airport I ran into my pal Mira who — despite her best efforts — had made no more progress than I. “They’re all Antisemites here,” she said. “We’ve been sleeping on the floor. They didn’t even give us a blanket.” She stomped off to try her luck at the El Al counter while I was hustled onto an ISSTA charter flight to Ben Gurion Airport. Granted, it was my worst travel nightmare come true: flying with a planeful of unwashed, guitar-playing post-IDF grads after their year in the Far East but at least I was on my way home.

So here’s how I would rate the whole experience:
redcross_v_klm copy

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , • Category: General, Life, Nostalgia Sunday, Politics, Travel, War 

Comments

4 Comments on Nostalgia Sunday – 9-11

  1. David-Joe on Sun, Sep 6th 2009 11:52 PM

    2. In defense of Schipol – an airport I really like and whose attitude during normal periods is wonderfully calm and sublime and if you enjoy chocolates there is no better place, they had on reflection no reason to panic.

    They were also remember not used to being targets of terror as Israelis have been all their lives.

    As for potato chips – peanuts are more nutritous and taste better anyway.

    But I would think things have changed as the world has become a worse place following Sep 11 2001.

    I wonder how many Americans are aware that the reason Sep 11 was selected is because it is the date of the Battle of Vienna.

    I remember several years ago the former leader of Spain, Aznar, made a speech at G W University in DC and mentioned that to know and understand the current issues, one has to know history because this fight was a continuation of one that ended 700 years ago.

    The students were amused and the newspapers pilloried Aznar the day after.

    I hope Americans realized since then that Aznar is and remains correct.

    I also remember both Bibi and Peres on CNN in the days following the first Trade Center attack telling interviewers – at different times, not together – that Islamic fundamentalism ideology was the biggest coming danger to the United States and the world.

    America as usual did not listen for what do Israelis know………

    We know our enemies and our neighbors!

  2. Rebecca on Mon, Sep 7th 2009 11:56 PM

    3. What happened at Ben Gurion airport on 9/11? (I would not expect the same kind of throw up one’s hands and run around crazy behavior as at Schipol, but I am curious to know what the airport did).

  3. Rachel on Mon, Sep 14th 2009 8:51 AM

    4. Israel went into high alert, closed its airspace, and initiated air patrols as it was reasonable to assume that it would be a target as well. It’s important to realize that this country, though seemingly – and sometimes actually! – disorganized, is in a state of emergency preparedness at all times.

  4. Foto Friday – The 9/11 Memorials | ISRAELITY on Fri, Sep 9th 2011 1:55 PM

    5. [...] written previously about my personal experience as a 9/11 refugee (really!), and find it hard to believe that it has been ten years. The world has changed a great [...]

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