On the evening of September 10, 2001 I was waiting for my flight to board at Logan Airport in Boston, MA. I can't recall exactly what business I had in Boston the week before, but I had probably stayed the weekend at my Mom's since I was in town. I didn't think my flight was going to get out that night (to home in Columbia, SC). Many flights to the Southeast were being delayed and ultimately cancelled due to severe thunderstorms in the South. My flight was one of the only ones to leave. If it hadn't, I guess I would have had to rent a car to get home like many others. But I was back at my desk at work the next morning when the Two Towers were struck.
I have rarely flown since September 11, 2001. Between the immediate air restrictions and the financial trouble my employer was having at the time, business trips were severely limited. I was certainly grateful that God saw fit to get me home on the 10th.
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