Lisana's Lines

I mentioned in my first column for the Sun-Telegraph that I would relay the events that led up to my first trip to Nebraska a few years ago. This is from a “note” that I wrote on my Facebook page a year and a half ago. Due to the length of the story, this will be a two-part series. Well, here goes part one:

September 10, 2001. I had resigned from my radio station job days earlier, and this was the eve of my last day at the Domino’s on Old Hammond Hwy in Baton Rouge. I went to Papa John’s to visit with my former Domino’s manager and a former co-worker.

I took pictures, hung out and talked for a while. These former Domino’s workers were from the Middle East, and I have often wondered what they might have experienced in the months following that night. They were great guys, but many people may have judged them solely on their skin color, and that is sad.

After hanging out there with Mohammad and Hadi, I rode around with the top down on myChrysler Sebring saying “goodbye” to Baton Rouge, because on September 12, movers were coming to get everything to take to Buzzards Bay, Mass., which would become my new home. I expected a fun, carefree, lazy last day at Domino’s. Boy was I wrong.

September 11, 2001. I was awakened by a phone call from my mom at about 8:20 a.m., CDT. She was screaming into the phone, “Turn on the TV; a plane has hit the World Trade Center.” My first words were, “_____ air traffic controllers.” She said, “No, it may more than that.” I turned on the TV and stared in disbelief. I sat glued to the TV until just after 11 a.m., and then I left for work. I arrived at Domino’s around 11:20, yes, late, but what were they going to do, fire me?

There was only one other driver, a manager, about 20 deliveries and 10 carryout orders on the screen; every phone line was ringing non-stop. We called in five more drivers, and a few inside workers, in addition to the store manager who wasn’t due in ‘til late afternoon.

If anyone is familiar with Baton Rouge, then you know that it is the capital/government seat of Louisiana, and that there are Shell and Exxon refineries along the Mississippi Riverright by the downtown area.

If a plane had crashed into one of the refineries, it could have been a major disaster. All government workers were sent home, downtown was basically evacuated, schools were let out, various businesses closed for the day, and many people just didn’t go to work by choice. So, these people sat at home glued to the TV and ordered pizza.

Radio stations in Baton Rouge (except for those owned by Guaranty Broadcasting where I had worked) broadcast only news all day and night. It was a very emotional day. People were crying, angry, worried; I was right there with them on that. Tempers and patience were both in short supply.

About a half-dozen people had quit Domino’s by early evening. All available people were there, and we were still not keeping up. This being my last day, I could have left at any time. It was tempting.

But I didn’t want to leave my store manager, Steve, in a rougher spot than he was already in. He even told me that if I needed to go, I could. I said, “Steve, I won’t do that to you. You have been too good to me.” I finally left at about 11:45 that night with a few hundred dollars in tips in my pocket and a great amount of respect from Steve and our regional manager Amy.

September 12, 2001. Movers came to get my belongings to take to Massachusetts and I got ready to embark on my Greyhound Bus journey to the West Coast and everywhere in between.

September 13, 2001. I boarded the bus for a life-changing two week adventure. Planes were still grounded, so more people than usual were taking the bus. I was a bit nervous, but by the time I made the first over-night stop in Lubbock, Texas, I was totally at ease and in the moment.

I have been a Buddy Holly fan since the age of 9. I was a bit disappointed that the Buddy Holly Museum in Lubbock was closed due to the terrorist attacks, but it was cool just being in his hometown.

I re-boarded the bus as soon as possible and continued my westward sojourn. I rode through the coolest lightning storm ever in New Mexico, and then saw the most gorgeous sunrise across the Painted Desert.

I rented a car in Flagstaff so that I could properly visit the Grand Canyon, and I was truly amazed at the perfection of that landscape; it was so pristine that it looked as if it could have been a painting.

After a few hours, I drove the rental car across the Hoover Dam (an awesome man-made marvel) and on to Las Vegas. I spent two days seeing everything that I could, which included walking through every casino just to say that I had been there. My favorite was Paris, because the restaurant and retail area had the look and feel of being in Paris. From Vegas, I took the bus on to LA…

To be continued

Lisana Eckenrode can be contacted at [email protected].