‘I felt I was steered and protected by God’ — an account of getting home from Brussels

My story starts at the end of a very long and epic four months of travel.  I went to Asia four times, Europe twice and traveled completely around the world twice in two different directions.   During this four-month span, I visited technology vendors for business, argued compliance issues in front of the EU commission, got married, had my honeymoon and endured the passing of my father-in-law.  I traveled to Thailand, China, Hong Kong, Malaysia and Belgium for these trips.  
The morning of March 22, I was worn out, a bit under the weather and was looking forward to finally being home for the beginning of spring and the summer ahead.  My plan was to not travel again for the next three to four months, unless on a short vacation out West.
The night before I tried a few times to get on a 10 a.m. flight from Brussels to Newark, then Newark to Cleveland.  The flight was open three or four days beforehand, and I was waiting for the 24-hour window where being a frequent flyer with United, I can change without a fee.  That morning when I checked in online, the flight was not available as it was full.  I called and they gave the usual answer — I would need to go early to the airport to be put on the standby list.  
Around 8 a.m. I decided to meander to the airport. The usual 2-hour window I wasn’t concerned with because when traveling standby you won’t know you made it until the last 30 minutes or so.  I also had an extra suitcase, which I was deciding what to do with as I began to exit the room (more about this later).
My bags were packed, my ritual of checking my passport, wallet and cell phone was complete.  These are the three items, the only three items I need to travel the world.  When it is winter in regions I am heading to, I also am cautious about packing a jacket that I use mountain climbing.   If ever I am stuck somewhere or need to walk in the cold, this jacket is light and thin and will protect me in freezing temperatures.  
Up until this point, the day went as a snail’s pace. About a half past 8 a.m. I received a text from one of my associates in Brussels.  She said “Hi, the airport is closed due to explosions.  Please stay safe.”
A few text messages later, I was on the phone with United Airlines.  I told them about the airport.  The customer service person on the line did not hear about any problems at Brussels Airport but after putting me on hold, she did confirm there was something going on, and changed my ticket to Frankfurt without issue.  I requested the Frankfurt flight because I knew this was the one of the latest flights out of Europe to the United States.
Taking off at 5 p.m., I thought I would easily have enough time to make it to Frankfurt, only about a 3.5 hour train ride.
For business trips in the U.S., I will rent a car 99 percent of the time.  For China, you cannot drive without a Chinese driver’s license, and for Brussels, the public transportation is so dialed in, the extra time of renting a car is not worth it.  The city is extremely walkable and normally very friendly.
I immediately went to the front lobby to check out.  I normally carry extremely light and I consider myself a professional traveler living out of a single carry-on suitcase many times for one to two weeks at a time.  Last time I was in Brussels I bought a suitcase to carry samples to a meeting.  The afternoon before, at our firm in Brussels, I requested to store the samples there at their office and that I would take the extra suitcase to pack extra items that were given to me by vendors in China.  Since I grabbed the check at dinner one night in China, a vendor felt obligated to buy everyone tea sets and a giant box of tea.  
As I made my way to the lobby, I realized I needed to shed this extra suitcase.  I had the same thought before knowing about the explosion; since I was considering going standby, I was prepared to leave it at the bell station and call my associates to enjoy the tea set and keep the suitcase.  I called our associates in Brussels and talked to the front desk and asked them to hold the suitcase for me at the bell station, a very odd request given what was unfolding in the city.  Being a frequent Marriott customer, they didn’t feel a need to check the suitcase.  I insisted for them to examine it — I flopped it on the floor, grabbed one item out of it and showed them out of a sense of obligation that it was only a tea set and some tea.  
About one to two minutes later, my first encounter with the outside world and the chaos that would ensue came in the form of a very nice Indian couple who were at the airport terminal when the first bomb went off.  They said they walked through part of the blown-out section of the airport and part of the roof came down on them as they exited the building.  It didn’t have to be stated that this wasn’t a gas explosion or some accident; it was an act of terrorism.  The fear in them seemed to infect the staff at the front desk and myself as we listened to their every word.
I asked the front desk person if he could call to get train tickets for me as I would give him my credit card.  He said he could not, that I would need to show my ID to get a train ticket at the train station.  He also mentioned something about going online but at that moment, I thought, it is going to be much easier to make the eight to nine minute walk to the station and just get my ticket in person.  I just wanted to get out of Brussels now and even if I spent three to four hours at the airport in Frankfurt, no big deal.
I looked at my watch as I had lost track of time — what seemed like two hours from the time that I got the text message was only about 30 minutes.  I have traveled the world for many years and I never feel disconnected but when I stepped out of the lobby that day, I felt alone, a feeling that is foreign to me having always being connected globally.
I began to walk fast with my Google maps showing me the way to Brussels Central Station.  I walked faster than normal.  Not more than 100 feet out of the hotel, a woman came up to me and said in broken English, “Are you taking a taxi to the train station — can I share a taxi with you?”  She said, “I need to get home and I just came from the airport, there has been a terrorist attack.”  I offered for her to walk with me, saying I felt better just walking to the train station.  It was my intuition but I thought many of the cab drivers would start overcharging and it was less than a 10-minute walk, I needed to relax a bit.  She declined and I immediately started back on my short walk to the station.
On the way there, I began to hear sirens all over the city.  Even though the area I was in downtown was far away from the airport, the activity was palatable. Shop owners were in their shops with the doors locked and I saw one flip his sign from open to closed.  The streets began to empty as I walked uphill from the Marriott to Brussels Central.  I began to see streets being blocked off and military vehicles packed with troops heading in all directions around me.  
I finally came to the front of the station.  I again felt a sense of relief and caution as I stepped to the Central Station. I felt this might be the next target.  Train stations are commonly a point of terrorism, but I pushed back what I felt were irrational thoughts and focused on getting my ticket to Frankfurt.  
When I was in the station, many of the people were in a state of confusion.  Some people were talking loudly about what happened at the airport, others were walking and not making any eye contact. Much of the discussions were in French so I would just catch an English conversation every so often.  
I immediately stood in a line to get a ticket.  Once I got to the front of the line the person behind the glass said to me that I was in the wrong line; I remember she needed to shout it because the volume around me seemed to be increasing.  
I immediately turned around, grabbed my bag and went to the door for the international ticketing office. It was locked but there were three workers inside.  I began to knock on the door and they weren’t looking up.  I began to knock harder and pound my fist on the door.  As I was doing this, the volume in the room seemed to increase dramatically, people were moving fast for the doors.  There were some people coming up from the underground platform area jogging and others shouting.  I am not sure if this was shortly after the moment the bomb went off in the other station or others found out about the bombing and these people were trying to warn others to leave.  There was some chaotic shouting and people moving fast for the doors.  I didn’t know it at the time but I later was to find out Maelbeek Station was bombed.
I immediately left the building, my state of feeling alone started to grow rapidly and even though I was standing in the open and airy circumferential area between Brussels Central Station and the Hilton right across the street, I felt that feeling of being on mountains where the ropes were tangled severely on a dangerous pitch or in the middle of the ocean on a dive boat as a surprise storm rolled. You can be in the most open place on earth but it seems like space is squeezing in on you.
I knew the feeling and I knew it was start of panic setting in.  I know how to deal with extreme situations; I knew to just focus on the next task to calm myself down.  I simply thought, I will go to the Hilton, they will help me find a car rental facility and I will get to Germany on my own.  
When I walked to the Hilton, I noticed a sign on the door stating something to the effect: if you didn’t have a reservation, they were restricting access to the hotel.  I knocked again on the door and bellmen came to the door and asked if I had a reservation, I instinctively said I did to gain access.  
I walked to the front desk and immediately some of the staff recognized me as I talked with them about a billing mixup the last time I was there only a few short weeks ago.  They told me the closest car rental place was at Midi Station, a short drive from our current location and about a 25-minute walk.  There was a taxi line outside of the hotel and this time, I just wanted to get a taxi and didn’t worry about the cost as I could tell the city was descending into chaos.
I took my tourist map and triangulated where I needed to go and circled Midi Station on the map.  If the cab driver didn’t speak good English they could simply look at the map and drive there without issue.  When I got to the taxi line on the side of the hotel, the line grew to eight to nine people.  I waited in the line for over 10 to 15 minutes and there were no taxis.  When was in line, I tried to pass the time and snapped what would be my only pictures of the train station and area.  Near the end of waiting in line I posted a Facebook posting about how everything was slipping into chaos.  
I thought now, it is only a 20-minute walk, time to start walking.  I went in the lobby again to ask more questions of the walk and began to set out on foot.  By this time the police and military that were in the city were driving at reckless speeds, the sirens were everywhere and I began to see ambulances.  As I walked farther and farther from the hotel, my feeling of being alone turned to feelings of danger and distrust.  I trusted no one and I was going to the Midi Station and getting out of here.
When I routed the Midi Station on my phone it was more than 20 minutes, it was 28 minutes.  I still pressed on, with a carry-on in tow.  When I was 15 minutes into the walk, rolling my suitcase started to really irritate me and I thought these wheels are going to wear off.  Just as I was thinking this I saw a taxi doing a U turn. I flagged him down and he agreed take me to Midi Station for 10 Euros.  By car it was only five to six minutes.  
Upon arriving at Midi station there were military carrying assault riffles everywhere.  He ignored some of them who were telling him to stop and I began to very loudly shout at him to stop — I could only imagine these guys unloading on us, thinking he was some type of suicide bomber driving past a secured area.  I stepped out of the cab and found myself in a large cordoned off area in front of Midi Station.  A military person was walking my way shouting in French carrying an assault rifle slung around his shoulder and chest, one hand on the grip.  I put my hands up and answered him in English, that I am here to rent a car.  He then toned down, waited for me to get my baggage and politely said the station is closed, you cannot rent cars here until it opens.
Outside of the taped-off area were people from many different places, and many different languages were being spoken.  I am good at determining the language spoken; even though I don’t know the language, I can discern the generality of a language. This time my brain went into overload, I couldn’t distinguish anything.  Taxi drivers with van doors open were shouting city names.  I soon realized they are setting up ad-hoc city to city transports.  I walked up to one and he said Antwerp, are you going to Antwerp?  I said no, I need to go to Frankfurt, Germany. Another taxi driver who overheard me said he will drive me to Frankfurt and grabbed my carry-on bag.  I immediately grabbed it back out of his hand and asked how much.  He looked at me and spoke aggressively, 2000 Euros.  I became furious and swore, and said no way.
At this point in time, I thought, I am now at least a 45-minute walk from the Marriot.   I immediately went on to my Marriott app and instinctively made reservations for another night thinking rooms might get booked up. I then immediately began to look online for car rental places.  I found an Avis outside of the Brussels City center but it was very close to the airport but was offsite.  I then opened my Uber App and requested a driver.  Not having a destination typed in I knew I would need to act quickly.  I started to act more and more proactively with less and less of a plan.
I booked a car and then called the location. They were open; they had my car and I told them I would get there even if I was late, hold my car.  I then entered my address in Uber and waited for my driver.  I saw light at the end of the tunnel.  
I waited and waited; probably 20 minutes now.  In broken English he began to text me, “where are you going”  I said “Zaventem, Downtown.” After a few exchanges, he said impossible and declined my fare.   I now started to really doubt everything and started to look for more car rental places.  Being five hours ahead, at 8 a.m. I didn’t want to call my wife, to not wake her and worry her.  But now it was close to 10:30 and I thought I better start making calls as I don’t know if I am going to get stuck here in Brussels or what is going to happen next.
As I called, the phone was busy; I thought, no way is she on the phone.  I called two or three more times and then I started dialing friends, getting the same thing, a fast busy signal.  I thought, my God, the phone system is becoming overloaded.  I was right — at least at that point in time, all voice calling service was down or jammed by the sheer numbers of people calling loved ones, etc.  Thoughts of 9/11 came to me vividly as I tried to call friends in the city right after the jets hit.  
I then started to receive text messages from some work people.  One came from Jim from the U.S. and one from Garrett who was still in China.  The messages calmed me significantly.  Garrett was looking for another rental location. He found one but I couldn’t call.  I then thought the city of Zaventem wasn’t shut down, this Uber guy must have thought it was the airport Zaventum.  I then called the location about 10 times enduring the fast busy signal time and again and then finally I got a normal ring and they picked up.  At this point I was very excited — they said, yes of course we are open, come here, we are open.  
Now my focus turned to the taxi drivers, but now most of them were gone, and the big crowd of people were starting to thin.  I noticed on the side of Midi Station there were still a few taxi drivers lined up.  I thought, I’ll just walk a few hundred feet and grab a cab.  When I started asking, all the cabs said they have clients or had reservations or others didn’t speak English and simply rolled up their windows on me.  
I flagged a cab driving down the service road next to the station and I said I need to go to Zantevem downtown.  He had a woman that appeared to be from Morocco or some northern African nation.  She spoke only French.  I got into the cab and he said he would take her somewhere first and then me to the car rental facility.  Once we rolled out, I noticed the time was getting close to 11 a.m.  I told him I need to hurry and questioned him several times, is she really on the way to Zanvetum? I only have 40 euros I told him and that I could not afford to drive all over the city and I didn’t have time (even though I had 100 euros and probably another 100 in U.S. cash).  He reassured me the time and distance to her drop-off.
When we got very close to her drop-off, they began to talk loudly.  He then abruptly stopped the car and began to shout loudly.  He then looked at me with the use of the rearview mirror and started to shout and pound on his steering wheel.  “She has no damn money, She has no money!”
She was very frightened and now I was angry at the driver and her.  I thought to myself, what a bunch of out-of-control mayhem.  I just knew walking out of my hotel I was going to be in chaos.  Now, I fully accepted I was neck deep in it.
I immediately asked, how much is her fare. He said 45 Euros.  I asked him if he takes credit cards and I said, I have one, no problem I will pay for her.  He refused and said he is tired of these people not paying.  I told him, “Look I need to get back to my wife, I need to get to the rental car facility, I will pay her fare.” I told him, let her out here, she can walk the rest of the way and I will pay.  I pleaded with him, while raising my voice as a demand at the same time.
She exited the vehicle and we were on our way.  I thought, now, finally now we will get to the rental place and even if I miss my flight, I will be in Germany at a nice hotel near the airport or downtown.  After everything calmed in the cab, it was about to get tense, very tense.  
He, now knowing I had a credit card, said, I will drive you to Frankfurt; I will drive you to Frankfurt.  I began to angrily shout, NO, NO you are NOT.  I then took off my seat belt and leaned between the seats and I was now halfway in the front seat.  I shouted at him that I would grab his steering wheel if he veered off of this route on Google.  I said follow this route and DO NOT deviate.  He agreed and became a bit unnerved himself with my immediate escalation in tone and proximity to his face from behind.
We then got closer and closer to Zaventem and now I could see we were under a 10-minute drive.  I thought at this point, I will get out on foot and if I need to, abandon my suitcase and walk to the rental car facility.  When we got closer there were several road closures. I now was letting him deviate from the route on Google maps as we were within a walkable distance, not more than 5 kilometers.  Before I knew it I was pulling up to the rental car place.  I couldn’t believe his nerve but he said people normally tip here in Brussels.  I gave him the tip — I didn’t want anything to dent my Karma.
I felt a sense of comfort and relief that yet again would quickly wash away once I stepped into the lobby.  The lobby was no bigger than maybe a 10’ by 20’ room,  that included the rental desk and room behind it.  However, there were 20 people crammed into this tight space.  Some of the people were asking, why you don’t have enough cars.  Another conversation was the lady telling other people that the one way fee would be 1000 Euros.  I thought, oh boy, here we go again.  
I waited very briefly but being seasoned and adopting “Eastern” techniques of barging my way to the front of lines and talking over and in front of people in line just at the right moment, I spoke loudly but respectfully and said “I have a reservation for a one-way rental” and I pointed at my phone screen.  The person from behind the desk, said, step up and began to repeat to everyone, “He has a reservation.  Let us help him then we will get back to you.”
I said I rented the largest car they had and I asked do you still have it?  She said very professionally, yes we have it. I asked how many seats and she said 7.  I laughed and questioned her again; I told her I have never once seen a car in Europe with 7 seats.  She assured me there were 7 seats.  
Upon hearing this several people started to ask where I was going.  Some were dressed very nicely.  Brussels is a hub for all of the EU when it comes to policy, trade matters and the law of the EU.  I then told everyone in the office I am headed to Frankfurt, Germany; if they want to come along I will drive them.  After being through all I was through today, I gladly offered help to others.
One tall German fellow said he has 4 people total; he asked “can you take us across the border so that we can get a train to Berlin?”  By this time, I knew that all the trains and all the flights in and out of all of Belgium were shuttered.  I heard the border of France was now closed.  I quickly agreed and lightened the mood in the place by saying we would ride this thing like a clown car out of here with people’s heads sticking out of the sun roof if we need to.  
I began to hurry the people at the counter as now it was very close to noon and my window to make it out of Germany was quickly closing.  I asked the Germans, how fast can I get to Frankfurt?  They said 3.5 hours if you drive aggressively on the autobahn.  I thought, perfect — it’s 1.5 hours to get to my flight after dropping off the car.  I recalled Frankfurt’s car return was onsite.  
I was then gathering all the paperwork when a fellow by the name of John said, I am alone here and I am not sure what I am going to do, are you going to Germany?  I said yes and then he started to tell me his story.  He was on a Jet Airways flight from India and he was only on a layover in Brussels.  Once they landed, the pilot came on and said they will not be pulling up to the gate that everyone would need to get out and leave everything on the plane.  John said they wheeled a ladder up to the plane, he exited the plane, left everything on board and there was mass chaos at the airport. He said people just started running away from the plane and through doors into the airport but then immediately out on the street.  I couldn’t remember now when I write this account of my time in Brussels of how he ended up at the rental car place, maybe I never asked.  
I rushed him to make a decision.  He began calling his wife at home to call Jet Airways to get a ticket change from Frankfurt but immediately I overheard the call with his wife when he said he will stay here to see what is going to happen with his belongings.  I remember I had reserved a hotel for an extra night as a precaution.  I wrote my name on a piece of paper, gave it to him and told him to call the hotel and switch it over to his name as most of the hotels will probably be booked up.
In a few minutes, myself and my new German friends loaded up in the car and drove way.  The German fellow in the front seat was the boss of the others in the back.  He was a director for a think tank and lobbying firm for green energy.  He was very astute and we talked about very technical items for part of the drive and then about politics and the state of Europe, the refugee crisis and ISIS.
About an hour into Germany I dropped everyone off at a bus stop as they said they were going to catch a cab to a nearby station and I continued on my way to the airport.  I drove on the autobahn, sometimes up to 200 kph.  I been known to have a lead foot and now I needed no other excuses to push my foot to the floor.
I arrived at the airport, already had checked in on my phone on the way there, walked through passport control and then briefly hit the first class lounge and stuffed my face full of curry, hot dogs, potato salad and yogurt.  I boarded the flight with plenty of time and I slept most of the flight because of the sudden and immediate stop of adrenaline in my system and my gorging of food.  I was completely spent.
Unfortunately, the pilots were late coming from their hotel and I missed my flight from Dulles to Cleveland.
As I sat in my hotel room the gravity of the situation hit me. I starred at my unused train ticket, the one I bought 3 days ago from Central Station to the airport.  I thought even though I had a ton of setbacks during the day, I felt I was steered and protected by God.  I could have made many decisions or fate could have bent me other ways to put me right in the sphere of violence.  It thankfully did not and all now I have is a story and a reinforced caution of train stations and airports, that will hopefully fade over the coming weeks as this is what these animals want spread, death and fear.  I thought about my wife and the love I have for her and the regret if something happened in which I didn’t make it home.  
However, much of the day was spent thinking about how to get out of Brussels and how quickly society can break down, or how normal people can either become heroes helping others, or become a step away from a criminal taking advantages of others.  The feeling of how quickly chaos and the complete unraveling of society can occur is what I am sure will be with me for the rest of my days from that day in Brussels.

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