I was returning home from my mission in Taiwan that morning. We were supposed to land in San Francisco, but didn't. I was watching the plane's progress on the TV screen and could tell we were close to home when the plane crossed over onto land and turned north. No announcement was made. I just figured we missed the mark or something and had to correct the course.

A while later, we landed at an airport that didn't look very familiar. I thought San Francisco had grown more trees. Looking around, I saw lots of planes with maple leafs on the tails. After we had landed, the plane just sat on the tarmack and nothing happened for maybe 15 minutes. Finally, the pilot came on the radio and said that the World Trade Center had been bombed and that all US air traffic had been shut down. We were in Canada and would be waiting there for further instruction. He piped Seattle radio through our headsets and we were able to here the news broadcast of one of the towers collapsing. After an hour and a half, the plane taxied to the gate and the plane and all of us with our luggage were searched by mounties and bomb sniffing dogs. Then they ushered us into the airport. It was extremely crowded and the line for the telephones was enormous. Somehow, one of the elders I was flying with got a hold of the local mission president who picked us up. We stayed with him overnight.

The next day, we took a bus across the border and passed through customs. I guess the airline paid for it. They also put us up in a hotel in Seattle. They thought it was best to get us in the country and then take connecting flights from there. Finally on Friday, the airports opened and I was able to catch a flight out of there.