He did in fact get nauseous on the night we had pizza, so clearly my mom was right red sauce no longer sat well with him.ĭuring this weeklong trip, Chad and I drove to Las Vegas. He liked to aggravate Chad (they were like brothers), so he’d pretend to dry-heave in the front seat of the car to get Chad to slow down, and then laugh when he did. We couldn’t go too fast in the car or Mac would say he was dizzy, but he didn’t slow down. Courtesy of Summer Germannĭuring that trip, we took Mac and Rider to the beach, the pier, and the arcade like we always did. Everyone seemed to have the same goal: Get to family. There couldn’t have been 25 of us on that first flight. You could see the grief on their faces with the awareness it could easily have been them on one of the planes that never made it home. Three days later, we were on the first flight out of Chicago to Los Angeles with all the businessmen who had been in hotels for days, longing to go home and see their families. We were all disappointed, but again, we didn’t understand the lives lost at the time. He was a little more tired than normal, but he surfed and was in football at the time, so she thought he was just playing hard. Pizza and spaghetti seemed to be a trigger. She had it narrowed down to he could no longer ride the spinney rides at the Santa Monica Pier, which he did often, nor eat red sauce at night. Mac had been getting dizzy and vomiting randomly. She had been looking forward to Mac (9) having our son, Rider (4), come to play for a little break. I called my mom to say the flights were grounded and it didn’t look like we’d be flying out today. None of us grasped the magnitude of what we were witnessing or how our lives were about to change. Our car service then called and said all planes were grounded, and he didn’t think we’d want to wait at the airport. We were now watching the horrific events unfold live. I thought it was a poor choice in humor and said to turn it off. He said a plane had just flown into the Twin Towers. Chad, my then fiancé, (not my favorite word and I’m not even sure I’ve ever said it before, but in hindsight, it’s relevant to the story), had on Mancow Muller, a Chicago shock-jock. We were flying to visit my mom and little brother in Los Angeles. We were living in Chicago and awaiting our car service to pick us up. “It was the morning of September 11th, 2001.
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