What I Learned When I Almost Died - Chris Licht [41]
Jenny thought it would be kind of pathetic to go anyway. A grown man flying to Vegas alone to play the tables alone and eat alone? Sad. But there was no way I was not going. I do not put things off these days, another learned lesson.
I could have told myself that, well, Marc has given me an out and I can cancel the trip and keep working to make up all those days I missed in the spring when I so thoughtlessly allowed blood to spill in my head.
But that scenario was not going to happen. I was going to grab the days. So I said to me: Go. Go. Enjoy.
On a Friday morning, by myself, I headed to JFK for a 7:45 flight to Las Vegas. It was raining so hard the expressways were flooded, and despite my clear suggestion of an alternate route, the driver decided he knew best. And drove us straight into a standstill. Not only was traffic stopped cold, it didn’t move for three hours. Three hours. I missed my flight. I began trolling the airline schedule on my BlackBerry for the next one. I missed that one. My short vacation in Vegas was shrinking by the minute. This was worse than missing a flight for the show. This was cutting into my time, pool time in the warm sun.
This is where Old Chris traditionally rears his head, blisters the car’s driver for wasting hours and hours of my short weekend getaway, screams at the airline, and yet, somehow, gets no closer to the airport for all that emotion. I didn’t do any of that. Now let me be clear. I wasn’t happy. But I consciously reminded myself not to overreact to a situation that had no remedy.
Rain? It happens.
Drivers who won’t listen to a good suggestion? Happens.
Brain bleeds? Them, too.
From the car, I called Mom, to pass the time.
“You’re so Zen,” she said.
I got to Las Vegas. It gets better. After Marc had canceled on me, I had called Chris Marlin, the same friend whose wedding I skipped a while back, and lobbied him heavily to join me on this junket because I wanted time with a friend. He was too busy. Then, at the last second, Chris changed his mind, and now he, too, showed up in Las Vegas, flying all the way from the East Coast to eat a single dinner with an old friend.
What a great evening.
Acknowledgments
The idea for this book was not mine. It was the idea of my friend, and frequent Morning Joe guest, Jon Meacham. It was Jon who invited me to lunch last summer to tell me that it was important for me to tell my story. He even came up with the title at that lunch, knowing fully that I didn’t yet have the answer to the question “What did I learn when I almost died?” He started me on the journey to find out, and I will always be grateful to him for pushing me to do the book and the faith he showed by bringing the idea to Simon & Schuster.
Speaking of Simon & Schuster, Jonathan Karp and Priscilla Painton have been incredibly supportive since the moment we met. Every step of the process, they’ve nurtured this book as if it was their own story.
This book would not exist without the tireless work of my collaborator and de facto therapist Steve Twomey. The many hours we spent together helped me absorb not only how the incident affected my life, but also the lives of those closest to me. What you have just read is the result of Steve taking the time to interview more than a dozen people connected to that day. He is not only a meticulous Pulitzer Prize–winning reporter, but also a skilled writer who captures my emotion and voice perfectly. He is also now a friend.
I would also like to thank everyone who took some of their valuable time to help me tell this story: Phil Griffin, Mike Barnicle, Willie Geist, and Farra Ungar from MSNBC, with a special thanks to Cate Cetta of MSNBC, for patiently juggling so many phone calls, e-mails, and appointments essential to making this book happen. From GWU Medical Center: Dr. Vivek Deshmukh, Dr. Ryanne Mayersak, Jenn Klemperer, Mike Hite, and Carlo Angelo Cruz. (I guess this would be as good a time as any to also thank them for saving my life.) Also, Marc Cadin, Lesley Sookram, and Jay