Landing In Tokyo On The Heels Of The 2011 Earthquake

On March 11, 2011, I was booked on a direct flight from Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport to Narita International Airport halfway across the world in Japan. I was working as a Researcher on the CNN National Desk at the time, but had taken the week off to visit my now-fiance's parents who were living in Tokyo. This was my first time out of the United States (besides a previous trip to Vancouver), and I was so excited for my first tip to Asia. I had read everything about Japan, and I knew it was going to be life-changing.
I awoke early that morning to a phone call from the morning news editor at KDKA Radio, my former station in my hometown of Pittsburgh. The details are a little hazy, as that I was half-asleep when I answered, but the message was clear: a terrible earthquake had hit Japan.
I jumped out of bed and immediately turned on the television. Even that early, before the sun was up, the networks were in live coverage of the earthquake. But there weren't many details, and they were unsure about the death toll. My fiance, Michael, called his mother and father, Andrea and Dan, and thankfully they were fine. The building shook and swayed during the earthquake, and things fell off shelves. But there was no damage, and they had power.
Over the next few hours, we continued to watch the news and I emailed my colleagues. It was reported that the epicenter of the earthquake was hundreds of miles from Tokyo. I heard about the tsunami, but the estimated death toll was something like 100. (It was still so early.) At this point, there was no mention of any problems with the nuclear reactors.
We called our airline, and our flight was still leaving for Japan; it had not be cancelled. After calling my mother and father, we made the decision to head to the airport to catch our flight. Loss of life is always terrible, no matter the number, but with all the information we had, it seemed safe to go. Earthquakes happen all the time, I thought.
When we arrived at our gate, things were pretty normal. I stood in line and asked our ticket agent if our flight was still leaving, and she gave me a puzzled look and said yes. They did not know much about the earthquake. Overhearing conversations, many people were discussing what happened, but no one seemed too worried. Since this was the next direct flight to Japan, many CNN reporters, producers and photographers boarded our plane.
As we took off, I had a conversation with Gary Tuchman, a CNN reporter who would spend weeks in Japan reporting on the devastation. He had just about as much information as I had. We didn't have any internet or Blackberry use during our 14-hour flight. I had no idea what had happened.
As we flew over the land hit by the tsunami, our captain informed us that if we looked on our right, we could see the area hit. I made my way to that side of the plane and was absolutely shocked at what I saw: there is no way to describe it than utter destruction. I couldn't tell if I were seeing houses or office buildings or trees, but whatever this area was it was completely flattened. I had never seen anything like it in my entire life. Even from this altitude, it was evident: 100 people did not die here, thousands did.
When we landed at Narita and cleared customs, our group began to dissipate. The airport was completely deserted except for a few reporters. There were sleeping bags and trash scattered about but no people around. No trains were running. Our cell phones didn't work. I couldn't get my email. No social media. Television crews approached us to talk, but we declined as that we had no idea what was happening. We were far from Meguro-ku, where Michael's family was, and we had no way to get there but on foot.
After walking around a bit and trying to devise a plan, we came across a taxi driver holding a sign in Japanese. As he flipped the sign over, I caught the words in English: Michael's last name. He didn't speak any English, and we didn't speak any Japanese, but he handed us a phone. Dan was on the other line. "Get in the car," so we did.
After a silent two-hour taxi ride -- only seeing a handful of other cars on the road -- we finally made it to our destination. Dan and Andrea spent six hours attempting to get to the airport to pick us up, but couldn't make it because the trains kept stopping. Luckily, they were able to find a taxi driver willing to pick us up.
It was late in the evening now in Tokyo, so we spent the next few hours talking about our trip (Michael's brother Ben flew in a few hours before us from Colorado) and what it was like when the earthquake first hit. The news showed the death toll climbing, and it was evident that this was a terrible earthquake and tsunami.