Thread by @greggilbert

On 9/11, I was on a flight from Madrid, Spain to Washington, DC. I had been on a just-pre-marriage trip with a friend. We were halfway across the Atlantic when I noticed that the little plane icon on the seat TV had turned around, and was heading the wrong way. 1/

I didn't think anything of it. Computer glitch, of course. But a few minutes later the pilot, who spoke Spanish, told us in broken English that we were returning Madrid because "two planes have collided above the WTC and American air space is closed." 2/

This seemed strange--why close DC airspace, much less *American* airspace--over an accidental collision of (I assumed) two small airplanes somewhere over Manhattan? Suddenly, the passenger sitting behind us sat forward and said, "You guys Americans?" 3/

Over the next few minutes, he explained that he was some sort of CIA terrorist threat analyst. "I guarantee this is an attack," he said. "And I'm going to need your help." In a series of announcements, in his broken English, the pilot continued to tried to give us news. 4/

"Correction," he said, "two planes have collided *into* the WTC." Then, a few minutes later, "The Pentagon in Washington has exploded." And "The State Department has exploded." And finally, "PITTSBURGH has exploded." (I assume this was what he knew about Flight 93.) 5/

You can imagine the confusion. It sounded like bombs or something were going off over the entire Eastern seaboard. Nuclear war? To make it worse, the pilot had turned off the "airphones" that were on the back of every seat at the time. 6/

As the hours went on and we headed back toward Spain, the CIA agent said, "Look. This plane is headed to Washington, DC. It's at least as likely as not that there's a bomb on board, and the pilot knows it. Now, there are basically two ways to trigger a bomb..." 7/

"One is timing. Set it to explode as we approach DC. Well, we turned around just before halfway through the flight, so if it's time-triggered, we should have about 20 minutes when we land in Madrid before it goes off. The second way, though, is altitude...." 8/

"When the plane goes below a certain line...that's it. So watch. As we approach the coast , while we're still over the ocean, the pilot is going to bounce the plane."

"Why?"

"Because if there's a bomb, he wants it to go off over the ocean, and not a populated area." 9/

At this point, words were said. We were still an hour off the coast, with really nothing to do but wait. And the little plane-icon on the flight map was getting closer and closer to the coast of Spain. When we got, oh I don't know, a hundred miles off, sure enough... 10/

...the altimeter (yes, we could watch every second of this; the pilot never turned off the flight tracker!) dropped just below 20k ft, and then bounced back up to 21k. Then 14,990 ft. then back up to 15.5k, then 11,990 and back up to 13k. Then 10,100ft.... 11/

Then 10,050.
10,020.
10,000.
9,995.
10,005.
9,700.
10,100.
9,600.

Over and over, the pilot bounced the plan up and down, up and down, just like the guy said he would. 12/

A few minutes later, we landed in Madrid. Spend a week there before we could get home, mostly reading articles in internet cafes and watching as Spaniards greeted us, once they realized we were Americans, with "Lo siento, lo siento." 13/

I'll never forget seeing the flags of Spain and Madrid flying at half mast, honoring those who died on that day. It was a massive moment for me. Maturing. Seasoning. Teaching me about the brevity of life and the sovereignty of God. 14/

Meanwhile, my fiancee was living less than a mile from the Pentagon. She heard the explosion, smelled the acrid smoke, ducked at the sonic booms of the fighter jets. It was terrifying for her, and she still cries...every single September 11. 15/

Like so many others, she lost friends and colleagues that day. I don't know that any of us have yet gotten hold of the emotional toll that day, that week, took on all of us. It shaped us, probably in ways we'll never quite understand. 16/16.