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I really need to document my last few days, but I don't know where to begin. Probably be easier if I use military time, because things were just happening 'round the clock. I volunteered to work a double shift, Tuesday, because Ceejay called in sick, so I worked from 1130hrs Tues. to 0345hrs Wed, went home and slept, got up at 1000hrs Wed and went back to work at noon (there has to be 8 hours between shifts), and worked 'til 2000hrs. So I'm rather surprised to find it Thursday morning.
Most of my Tues night - Wed morning was spent at a hotel. Within fifteen minutes after the Supervisor had left the airport was evacuated due to a 911 call to the South Portland police - someone apparently found a note (at the Mall, I think?) which said there would be a 'catastrophic' explosion at the Portland Jetport at 2300hrs, and was signed "Atta." (Mohammed Atta was one of the September 11 hijackers, one of the pair who flew out from Portland Jetport, and one of the few which there was video of which was released to the press.)
I spent my time, while all us evacuees were hanging out, writing notes back and forth with a deaf woman, trying to keep her caught up on what was going on. I should really learn sign.
It was kind of annoying, because I'd really been looking forward to being bored. I had an enormous cup of coffee and I was planning to get myself all wired, and write over a thousand words, and then maybe go climb the down escalator for a while. And instead I had to herd, chivvy and tonguelash KT all the way over to the hotel - he dragged his feet every step of the way, because he felt uncomfortable about leaving his post. Next time it's going to be the flat of my palm between his shoulderblades.
(as we passed through the parking garage)
KT: "Oh, look, there's a cart. Maybe I should go return it."
(You get a quarter for every cart returned. It's a running joke that he's obsessed with returning carts, but he actually said that.)
Me: "You CAN'T return it! You can't go back into the building! Come on! You have kids to think of, now move along!"
He's a great person to have along if you don't mind having to give him detailed instruction and back it up with a lot of pushing, because he remembers everything and can regurgitate information on demand.
I really wish it had been Ceejay there instead of me. He'd had a different situation the night before - someone had found a note in Arabic listing flight times from Boston - and he handled it all really well, making calls, faxing stuff, etc. for our Secret Service liaison while said liaison guy was out with some other Secret Service guys questioning the person who'd found the note. Me? First thing I did was grab the cellphone and call the Assistant Director. Yes, I was supposed to call him in emergencies, but using cellphones and radios is NOT a good idea when dealing with a bomb threat. Bad screener - stupid, stupid, stupid. It's lucky there was no bomb, I'd probably be dead.
Most of my Tues night - Wed morning was spent at a hotel. Within fifteen minutes after the Supervisor had left the airport was evacuated due to a 911 call to the South Portland police - someone apparently found a note (at the Mall, I think?) which said there would be a 'catastrophic' explosion at the Portland Jetport at 2300hrs, and was signed "Atta." (Mohammed Atta was one of the September 11 hijackers, one of the pair who flew out from Portland Jetport, and one of the few which there was video of which was released to the press.)
I spent my time, while all us evacuees were hanging out, writing notes back and forth with a deaf woman, trying to keep her caught up on what was going on. I should really learn sign.
It was kind of annoying, because I'd really been looking forward to being bored. I had an enormous cup of coffee and I was planning to get myself all wired, and write over a thousand words, and then maybe go climb the down escalator for a while. And instead I had to herd, chivvy and tonguelash KT all the way over to the hotel - he dragged his feet every step of the way, because he felt uncomfortable about leaving his post. Next time it's going to be the flat of my palm between his shoulderblades.
(as we passed through the parking garage)
KT: "Oh, look, there's a cart. Maybe I should go return it."
(You get a quarter for every cart returned. It's a running joke that he's obsessed with returning carts, but he actually said that.)
Me: "You CAN'T return it! You can't go back into the building! Come on! You have kids to think of, now move along!"
He's a great person to have along if you don't mind having to give him detailed instruction and back it up with a lot of pushing, because he remembers everything and can regurgitate information on demand.
I really wish it had been Ceejay there instead of me. He'd had a different situation the night before - someone had found a note in Arabic listing flight times from Boston - and he handled it all really well, making calls, faxing stuff, etc. for our Secret Service liaison while said liaison guy was out with some other Secret Service guys questioning the person who'd found the note. Me? First thing I did was grab the cellphone and call the Assistant Director. Yes, I was supposed to call him in emergencies, but using cellphones and radios is NOT a good idea when dealing with a bomb threat. Bad screener - stupid, stupid, stupid. It's lucky there was no bomb, I'd probably be dead.