9/11, the Cincinnati Bengals, and a Normal Day

Summary

A reflective journey to Cincinnati leads to a poignant realization about the fragility of life and the normality that precedes catastrophic events.

Abstract

The author recounts a personal experience of traveling to Cincinnati to watch a crucial Bengals game, juxtaposing the mundane routine of air travel with the profound awareness of life's unpredictability, drawing a parallel to the events of 9/11. Despite personal and financial considerations, the author decides to witness a potentially historic moment for the Bengals, reflecting on the ordinary beginnings of tragic flights and the stark contrast when those flights take an unexpected turn. The narrative underscores the author's acute consciousness of life's uncertainties, acknowledging that any day could be one's last, and that such a day would likely start just like any other.

Opinions

The author has mixed feelings about attending the Bengals game due to personal commitments and financial considerations.
There is a sense of nostalgia and unfamiliarity with the current airport security protocols, as the author notes the changes since their last flight in 2013.
The author seems to be struck by the realization that tragic events, such as 9/11, begin with completely normal and mundane experiences.
There is an underlying appreciation for the unpredictability of life and a sobering acceptance of its potential fragility.
The author implies a sense of gratitude or privilege in being able to witness what could be a historic moment for the Cincinnati Bengals.

What I realized on a plane to Ohio

Photo by Author

My alarm went off at 4:50 am. Time to go to the Queen City (Cincinnati).

In one of the most thrilling games of the 2021 season, the Cincinnati Bengals beat the Kansas City Chiefs by a credit card length in week 17 to win the AFC North and go to the playoffs. A home playoff game.

After some internal debate about heading to Cincinnati (I live in South Carolina) — the mortgage industry is slow so money could be tight in the upcoming months, my son’s first basketball game is Saturday and I am the coach, screw it let’s go they might win for the first time in 30 years — I bought my tickets and made plans.

Photo by Author Cincinnati Bengals vs. Las Vegas Raiders

My flight to leave for Cincinnati was at 7:54 am. My dad picked me up at a time I am unfamiliar with — something they call 5am — and off we went to Charlotte Douglas International.

I walked in and was a little discombobulated. I haven’t flown since 2013 and at that time I could see everyone’s face. They weren’t covered up with an array of masks like they are now. Incidentally, I walked in without one but was soon equipped by an attendant.

There was a maze of gates and agents walking around yelling for people to go here and there. I followed the crowd over to the TSA line and did the needful. Apparently, at some point, terrorists have snuck explosive materials in their shoes. I had to take them off too.

I mosied on over to gate E-13 and boarded the plane. Once we were all seated, the familiar voice of the pilot said the usual things about overheard masks and turning off cell phones.

As I sat there and half-listened to what he said and groped for my Kindle something sad struck me. Every plane ride that has ever ended in a tragedy, terrorist attack, or otherwise, begins the same way.

Each person walks down the narrow aisle, looking on each side for their seat number. The air pressure in the cabin makes everything sound dim. Noises of carry-on compartments opening and closing and soft murmuring fill the air. So normal.

I imagined being someone sitting on a plane on 9/11. She heard all of the same noises that I did that day: opening and closing of carry-on compartments, soft murmurs, people getting comfortable as best they can. So normal.

What you didn’t know if you were on a plane that day, was that you were sitting on one of four planes, crafted by innocent hands, that would change the course of human history forever. How startling must it have been to have the soft silence broken by frenzied men who were just minutes away from flying into buildings?

I am 44 now. If you pay even a little bit of attention to the world, then you know that things happen out of nowhere. I am acutely aware that I have no idea when my last day on earth will be.

Chances are that it will start like any other day.