On September 11, 2001, we were in Houston, Texas, taking care of final paperwork at the Honduran consulate and arranging for shipping of our cars. We were supposed to leave for Honduras on September 13, but that didn't happen.
We were wakened by a phone call telling us to turn on the television. ..... Oh, the horror of it. I was glued to the television for days. It just didn't seem real no matter how many times I watched it. How could something like that happen? God rest the 3,000 souls who didn't survive that day.
Of course, our flight was canceled. We ended up not being able to get a flight in which we could take both of our little dogs until a week later. The airline only allowed two dogs in cabin per flight and every flight had at least one. We had made all the arrangements for them and even had made an advance trip to the airport to make sure there wouldn't be any problems, but all of that changed with 9/11. The helpful airline's customer service solution was that we only take one dog with us. Right: We'll just abandon one of our 14-year-old dogs in the airport. No problem. So, instead we ended up spending an expensive week in a motel in Houston with two dogs before we finally were able to leave for Honduras.
At the airport, we were designated as suspicious characters, exacerbated by our one-way tickets. Our four huge overstuffed bags were searched completely, down to unfolding the socks. I waited, trying not to notice that all the blonds sailed right through with a wave. I never thought that the inspectors would ever be able to put everything back and zip up those suitcases, but miraculously they did.
Honduras was a relief as we had no news, no phones, no cable TV, and no newspapers in the beginning.
Both dogs have since gone to doggy heaven and I still miss them.