In the wake of 9/11, my wife Trish and I were stranded on the East Coast. We had planned a vacation to Greece, but flights had been halted. Instead, we ended up on a tiny island off the coast of Georgia.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Eleven days before 9/11, I was on a plane with the 9/11 hijackers who were carrying out a dry run.
Another time, we had three days off in Australia, so we went out of our way to fly to Ayres Rock.
I was a fighter pilot, flying Hurricanes all round the Mediterranean. I flew in the Western Desert of Libya, in Greece, in Syria, in Iraq and in Egypt.
My wife had taken off on a plane. Two airplanes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I, of course, like any other person, felt potentially devastated, panicky a little bit.
I was actually lost in Beirut on the way home.
I knew I couldn't live in America and I wasn't ready to move to Europe so I moved to an island off the coast of America - New York City .
I went to Israel when the missiles were falling there.
I had a brilliant trip to Mexico with my friend Ellie during my gap year. We thought we were being really cool and going off the beaten track while all our friends went to Thailand and Australia. The first beachside bar we walked into - there were two girls from my sixth form in there.
I've traveled all over. I've been to all 50 states. With my dad in the Navy, I lived in the Philippines from nine to 12, and I had dog, monkey, lizard, everything. Then I was in Hawaii, and I'm spear-fishing, catching octopus with my hands.
Unfortunately I was in New York when 9/11 happened.