On the way home, we finally stopped at the Flight 93 National Memorial. We’ve driven past the exit on the turnpike a few times through PA, but we’ve always been in a rush to get home. This time, we made time. The Pennsylvania countryside is beautiful. I couldn’t help but snap photos through the windshield as we passed by tunnels, windmills, and mountain cutouts.
When you hear that the plane went down in a field, you don’t expect to drive through the mountains and be almost 2,000 feet high. From the visitor’s center parking lot, you step foot onto a long, dark granite sidewalk. This sidewalk marks the flight path of Flight 93. As you follow the path, you walk passed the Learning Center, which is for classes and events, then through the opening of the large walls. You have a choice, turn left and enter the Visitor’s Center, or continue straight on the flight path to the overlook. The overlook gives you a wide opened view of the crash site.
The Visitor’s Center has a no photography sign and a small gift shop with memorabilia items not only of Flight 93, but of the National Parks. There are large displays, featuring the flight paths of all the planes, timelines of the events of 9/11, pieces of the wreckage, a simulation of the final flight path of Flight 93, 9/11 news coverage, photos of the heroes, and you can even listen to 3 voicemail messages that were left from the plane.
I’m not going to lie, it is heartbreaking to walk through. I was a senior in high school, and during first period English, the first tower was hit. Second period study hall, third period Geology, and fourth period Meteorology all had access to TV, which means I saw live, the second tower hit, both towers fall, the Pentagon destruction, and the Flight 93 crash. I was surrounded by students I’ve known since Kindergarten, others since 7th grade, crying and confused. Teachers that had no words, in a school that didn’t know if they should lock down or evacuate. After 4th period, I left the high school for the college, only to be told the college was shut down. I worked later that night, in a Subway next to a gas station and watched, as everyone lined up for gas that was almost $5 per gallon, the world was on fire, and I was a scared, 17 year old girl. I can’t imagine that anyone who lived through and remembers that day doesn’t carry around a little PTSD.
I couldn’t stand there and watch the TV in the Visitor’s Center. I did listen to the voicemails. I had constant tears. It was hard to walk through. I’m glad we stopped, but I don’t think I ever want to stop again.
We walked down to the Memorial Wall, each name etched on the marble wall. A large wooden gate made of Hemlock, the type of trees the plane crashed into stands between you and the huge sandstone boulder, the place where Flight 93 crashed, upside down, at 563 miles per hour, at 10:03AM. That grove of trees and field are the final resting place of the passengers and flight crew.
Further away from the visitor’s center and the memorial wall is the tower of voices. It has a wind chime for each passenger/flight crew. There wasn’t much wind, so we didn’t hear it, but it’s an amazing structure.
I encourage everyone to visit at least once.