I can’t really speak about the horrible thing that happened out of respect to the people involved.
Everything is still very raw and it will be for a while.
It happened to someone and the love of my life was caught in the blast zone. It was a quiet atom bomb.
The love of my life flew to New York to be closer to the point of impact. I soon followed when we realised how bad it was.
We were arranging tickets home for several different people in a high pressure situation and managed to get business class tickets for all of us, except me, as there were no more seats left.
To the crew on Sunday of the South African Airways flight from JFK in New York to Johannesburg, if you do not remember me, I was the one who you kept telling
“I’m sorry Sir, you’re not allowed in business class as you’re an economy class passenger.”
The fact that I was trying to spend a few minutes every now and again with my family during one of the toughest situations we’ve ever been through seemed to not matter to you one bit, even though we made sure you were completely aware of the situation.
I was the one holding onto the one crying in the galley.
I don’t care that my TV set didn’t work or that your economy class would be classified as a form of torture if the United Nations were ever to play any attention to it. I would’ve been ok water skiing back home.
I care that you couldn’t find the compassion, the basic human decency to make a simple exception during one of the hardest times my loved ones and I have ever had to go through.
To you I say this:
If you have a mother or a father, I sincerely hope you never, ever have to go through what we have.
And if you do, I hope you don’t crew their flight home.
Here at last, we shall be free. 