It Was a Day, and Night, to Remember

We all take the normal comforts of life for granted. Even the slightest inconveniences are irritating.

When you arrive at a hotel, you expect the room to be ready and everything in order.

But after Tuesday’s earthquake, Bay Area travelers were lucky if they had a room.

Forget amenities. There were no bellmen service, no room service, no maid service--no elevators or lights, either.

I flew to San Francisco Monday to do a story on the Bay Area media’s handling of the World Series and also write a couple of columns on the television coverage of Games 3 and 4.

I was in an ABC trailer watching the start of the Series telecast when the quake hit, and like other sportswriters at Candlestick Park, suddenly became a news reporter.

I went into the stands on the lower level to talk to fans, who, for the most part, seemed fairly calm about it all.

I then went back outside toward to ABC trailers to see if any of the telephones inside that working.

But on the way I spotted a worker climbing down from one of the 100-foot high light pools that surround the stadium and had swayed tremendously during the quake.

I ran over to where the workman, who identified himself as Benjamin Young of San Francisco, was descending.

He was ashen write. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he said.

Young, who works for a stage hand’s union, volunteered to go up and unhook a decorative wind sock that caught in the lights. He reached the catwalk at the top just as the quake it.

“I went to my knees and hung on for dear life,” he said. “I thought I was dead. I was so scared I (was sick).”

Most of the phones in the ABC trailers weren’t working, but I was found one that was. I phoned in Young’s quotes and some others to Elliott Almond on the sports desk for The Times’ early edition.

Later, inside a pitch-black trailer, I wrote a story for the later editions as a young volunteer, Alyssa Dubin of Piedmont, Calif., held her father’s flashlight so I could see to type on my battery-operating portable computer.

By the time I finished dictating and was ready to leave, it was about 10 p.m. and the traffic jam at Candlestick had subsided. Getting back to my hotel, the Hyatt Regency in Burlingame south the San Francisco Airport, was no problem.

I noticed as I drove down 101 that the off-ramps to the airport were blocked by police barricades.

As I approached my hotel, I was stopped by another police barricade. The hotel across the street from the Hyatt Regency, the Amfac, suffered major damage in the quake--an entire wall came down--and the street was closed.

I parked on the street and walked, stopping to ask a policeman about injuries. He said, luckily, only about a dozen people were hurt and none seriously.

At my hotel, people were lying on blankets on the front lawn and in the lobby. Explaining I had just arrived, a couple of the patrons told me they were waiting for word on whether they would be allowed to return to their rooms or not.

There was no electricity, except for what the hotel’s generators produced. And there was some visible structural damage--cracked concrete pillars and a huge hole in one of the stairwells being the most obvious.

The hotel set up four telephone lines for guests to call families and friends--at the hotel’s expense. I waited in line, and called home for the first time about 11 p.m.

The hotel also set up tables with complimentary food and soft drinks. All that was left by the time I got to it was packaged chips.

Back outside, where most of the patrons were milling about, they all had their own stories to tell about where they were when the quake hit, and the stories varied as greatly as the reactions.

Some were terribly frightened by the quake, others seemed to take it in strike.

Celia Maddox of Apple Valley, who was at the hotel for a convention of church youth leaders, said she was in a meeting room when the quake hit.

“Five of us, four men and myself, immediately ran out a doorway,” she said. “I was looking right at the Amfac Hotel when the wall collapsed.

“I screamed. It was so scary. I’m still terrified. I’m a Christian and Christians aren’t supposed to be afraid of death, but we’re all human beings and have human emotions.

“The first thing I did was pray for the people in that hotel. I thought surely there were a number of deaths.”

As I was talking to Celia Maddox, a news photographer from the Palo Alto Times, there to get photos of people camped out on the front lawn, took our picture and took down our names. Apparently, even reporters makes news during a major disaster.

Shortly after midnight, most of the Hyatt Regency patrons were allowed to return to their rooms via stairways, a long, slow process.

Not all rooms were deemed safe, but most were. Guests staying in rooms presumed safe were told they could stay in them if they wished, or they could get their luggage and additional bedding--hotel employees earlier passed out blankets and pillows--and return to the lobby or front lawn.

A good number chose the front lawn. It helped that it was an unusually warm night. Most chose to stay in their rooms, even though there were no lights.

However, the hotel generator supplied some lighting in the hallways.

After a few restless hours of sleep, I was awakened when the intercom came on loudly at 6 a.m. A woman’s voice asked all of us to please wake up, pack our belonging and leave as soon as possible.

The woman said the hotel would be closing in two hours for inspection. She said the hotel would assist anyone who wanted to stay elsewhere. The good news was that the area airports were open.

Rumors the night before were that the San Francisco Airport would be closed for 72 hours or more.

After getting dressed and packing in the dark, I went down to the lobby, where there were complimentary rolls and coffee.

Again I stood in line to use the phone. A young man was talking to United Airlines, and the man in front me said, “Don’t hang up, I want to talk to United, too.”

And, just like another airline commercial in which serviceman all line up outside a pay phone, I said, “I also want to talk to United.”

Amazingly, I got an 11:30 a.m. flight to Burbank. What would happen later would be even more amazing. Quite by accident, and through a stroke of luck, I got on an earlier flight. More on that later.

When I got to my rental car, I noticed I had accidentally parked in a “no parking” zone, but I guess police were too busy elsewhere to worry about parking violations.

I drove to the airport and dropped off the car just like it was an ordinary day. But it wasn’t an ordinary day inside the United terminal.

A ticket agent by the name of Francie Nash was doing her best to help the people in line.

“Is this an unusual day?” she was asked.

“If you’re talking about chaos, yes, it’s about 120,000 times more chaotic,” she said. “But we’re no busier than normal. It’s just that the flight schedules are all off. We’re just trying to do the best we can.”

I stood in line, got my ticket changed to the 11:30 flight and was told to hang onto my bag until it got closer to my departure time. It was now only about 8:45. Things were changing quickly, I was told.

I was not given a gate assignment, so I was just wandering around wasting time. There were no newspapers available since the gift shop, somewhat damaged, was closed.

I noticed a Burbank sign at one of the gates. I went up to the receptionist and asked if this would also be the gate for the 11:30 flight to Burbank.

“You want to get on this flight?”

“Sure, of course,” I said.

She grabbed me and we ran down the ramp, my bags in hand, and made it just as the door was being closed. “Don’t forget to get his ticket,” said the receptionist.

Things seem to be a lot less formal during times like this.

The plane, incredibly, was only half full.

I was on my way back to Los Angeles a lot sooner than I thought. But not soon enough.