It had been a while since I worked a Rochester turn. I was normally flying four-leg flights to Charlotte and Tampa and the occasional Memphis double, so I was happy to see on my January schedule that I had mostly morning out and backs, including six Rochester pairings.
Rochester flights are very interesting to say the least. The passengers vary in background and travel reasons, but the majority are elderly persons coming down to spend some time in Florida away from the bitter cold and snow. They all have their quirks, but I have been told that I handle things well with our senior citizens. Whenever I work these flights, there also always seems to be a medical situation on board. And on January 6, 2017, there was one on our way up to Rochester, but thankfully minor after we attended to the passenger and gave him some oxygen. He was wearing four layers of jackets on the plane, so he was pretty warm and sweating. He was much better after we helped him out of his jackets and made the cabin a bit cooler.
The return trip from Rochester is normally two and a half hours, sometimes two hours and forty-five minutes. We had a flight time of two hours and thirty minutes on the way up, so we were expecting a short time back as well. Nope. Flight time was three hours and eight minutes. I was in the back of the plane flying position number 4 along side a company veteran who has been flying for 18+ years in the industry. We were discussing how this was the longest Rochester flight we have ever had, but we prepared to make 155 people safe and comfortable for the return flight.
After three beverage/snack services and multiple trash runs/compliance checks/and requests for more ice and drinks, we were on our final approach for landing in Fort Lauderdale. We landed at 1:45 PM and began taxiing to the gate. My phone started vibrating non-stop and I took a moment to look at it. 10 new text messages. 5 new Facebook messages. I had only a chance to look at one from my mom:
"Shooting at Terminal 2 in Fort Lauderdale in baggage claim. 5 dead. People on tarmac."
I turned to my other colleague and told her the news. We were both in shock. We knew this was a serious situation, so I told the lead flight attendant the news. We were relieved that it did not happen in Terminal 1 where our gate is located, so we figured that we would still be able to taxi to our gate and deplane as normal. The aircraft stopped on the taxiway and the captain announced over the PA that there was a situation at the airport involving an active shooter. The cabin was silent. People were craning their necks into the aisle and looking at one another. Phones began to sound and people started calling friends and family. The aircraft was stopped, along with tens of other inbound flights that landed just before the attack. Some people went to use the restroom while a claustrophobic passenger rang her call button to ask for some water. I had no answers as to how long we would be waiting, but I said to many "hopefully not too long."
After a few minutes or so the captain announced we would be moving again. The flight attendants prepared the cabin for the aircraft to move (everyone seated with seatbelts fastened, tray tables up and locked, bags stowed, etc.) and we moved away from the terminal. I heard the engines power down and the auxiliary power unit took over to provide power to the aircraft. The captain addressed the passengers about the situation and that the airport is on lockdown and closed. We were stuck on the tarmac as passengers from the terminals were being evacuated as reports of a second shooter were being announced. Everyone was on their phones, iPads, and laptops looking at the news reports. Live pictures recorded travelers running across the tarmac from the airport terminals escorted by police officers and SWAT groups. The flight attendants began preparing for a pour service of water and snacks to meet FAA requirements for a lengthy tarmac delay. The passengers were aware of the situation, and they knew it was not our fault, and we tried our best to remain professional and kind while an apparent war zone raged on outside the safety of our Airbus A320.
Our flight crew had no idea if our colleagues in Terminal 1 were safe. I relied on Facebook posts and updates from my mom for information. I received text messages from friends and other airline co-workers that there were multiple shootings now in the parking garage and in Terminals 1 and 3. The live picture of passengers running for cover and hiding behind pillars and cars came through on a passenger's tablet as SWAT teams ran through the garage with their guns drawn. With the reports of a second shooter and now multiple shootings, I thought it was a full-fledged terrorist attack on the airport and on innocent travelers as every terminal and area of the airport seemed to be under siege. One passenger travelling with her two granddaughters whispered to me that there were more shootings, and I slowly nodded my head while still smiling as I gave her some more water. I didn't want the two girls to become even more frightened than we all already were. Our aircraft was positioned away from the terminal, so we were unable to see the events unfolding on the ramp area. I think that calmed many fears and kept the passengers as relaxed as possible.
Without any new updates, the captain kept us informed with what he heard and understood from air traffic control. It was going on three hours since we landed in Fort Lauderdale and the lavatories were reaching their full capacity and we were desperately low on drinking water. We had used all our bottled water in our beverage carts and our supply of crew water to ensure our passengers were hydrated. We had a third of our snack supply left, so we began rationing that should passengers request something to eat. We didn't know if we would be stuck on the plane until midnight, or even the next morning, as information was still changing. By this time, the Vice President of Inflight for my airline called me to talk and to let us know that operations in Las Vegas were well aware of our situation and were in the process of trying to get lavatory vehicles out the plane to service the restrooms, along with securing drinking water for the passengers. Crew Services called us as well to check to see how we were faring, and our base supervisor kept us updated as much as she could. Having this contact with the outside was very helpful and much appreciated. We were all glad to be safe aboard the aircraft instead of being caught in the chaos outside.
At the fourth hour, we had already learned who the shooter was, what he did, and where he came from. We learned that there was just one shooter and that the reports of multiple shooters were false. The FBI had taken the suspect into custody. We thankfully found out that all of our colleagues were safe and accounted for. Our two other planes were out of Fort Lauderdale--one diverted to Fort Myers and the other was in Memphis. All flights incoming to Fort Lauderdale after us were diverted and then cancelled as the airport remained on lockdown. The police groups and the FBI were doing an entire sweep of the airport--including all levels of all terminals, all parking garages (including each vehicle therein), and the entire airport grounds to ensure there wasn't another planned attack.
The fifth hour approached and we began to prepare for another drink service. With only juices and sodas available and virtually no ice at our disposal, we again tried our best to remain professional and kind to the passengers who were very much frustrated and still unnerved. Even if they were internally, all the passengers were gracious and thankful to receive another snack or drink. They thanked us again and again. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and were talking with one another. It was like a social gathering. People were being respectful and kind to one another.
Our FLL mechanics were able to bring us cases of bottled water. They drove a pickup truck to the plane and raised a ladder on the truck bed to reach the L2 door. Seeing them was absolutely wonderful. We asked them if they were safe and how everyone was in the terminal. It felt so nice to have contact with the outside world and to see familiar faces. We distributed water again and our back galley turned into a hangout area. We had a mother of two traveling with her Italian relatives for a cruise cracking jokes--two men in their early twenties and a member of the US Army were sharing the single outlet in the lavatory to charge their phones--and an accountant was showing us pictures of his grandchildren, all talking about life, the event, and whatever was on their minds. We had two women come to the back in tears--not scared for their safety but completely horrified about the attack. The claustrophobic passenger was playing Sudoku on her tablet and was doing much better. We all checked up on each other, and we flight attendants tried in earnest to maintain a safe and orderly cabin. No one was loud. No one was belligerent. No one was mean. We were all at the safest place in the entire area, and we were all content and thankful for that.
Almost six hours later, the captain announced to the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for taxi. We performed safety checks and the plane made its way to Terminal 1. We parked, disarmed the doors, and waited for more instructions. The gate agent announced that deplaning would take a few moments as there were extra security measures that needed to be met. Everyone waited patiently to leave. No shoving, no rushing, just standing in silence. Many people made the sign of the cross when we were finally at the gate.
The airport concourse was eerily quiet. Armed sheriff deputies with bulletproof vests and helmets directed passengers towards baggage claim. It looked like the rapture had occurred. Bags were everywhere with contents strewn on the floor; iPads and laptops were left charging in wall outlets; jackets and coats were in piles where people were once lounging waiting for their flight. A stand from Starbucks had toppled over with its contents in a pile on the floor; half-enjoyed drinks and food were left on tables at Chili's. It was the creepiest sight I have ever seen. We had two wheelchair passengers with us--I was pushing one and the lead flight attendant was pushing the other one. There weren't any wheelchair agents left at the airport, and the ground agent had to stay at the gate. We arrived to baggage claim and after half an hour we were able to get the wheelchair passengers' bags. The woman I was pushing asked me to speak to her son about the event and where he could come and collect her; I gave him directions to Port Everglades and told him that his mother was fine.
After almost 15 hours on duty, we left the airport terminal under the watchful eye of SWAT and police groups. Leaving the employee garage was chaotic as a line of cars in a dead stop crowded the exit. All the traffic leaving the airport was reduced to a single lane. Police officers directed us around abandoned cars left on the airport road and a multitude of emergency vehicles. I finally arrived home around 10:00 PM, exhausted and emotional. I feel so sick that innocent lives were lost and that the airport I have called my home was defiled.
The healing process has begun, and the airport has reopened to a state of normalcy. Terminal 2 is still closed, but the other three terminals are in operation. I am thankful that our flight time was longer than anticipated. If it was shorter, all of us could have been put in danger through the chaos of the shooting, the evacuations, and the overall uncertainty of what really was going on at the airport. A tragedy did occur, and we were all witnesses to this terrible event, and I believe this experience will be forever ingrained in our minds.
We must pray for the families of those lost, we must pray for the shooter and his family, and we must above all pray for peace and healing.
