“A hero is an ordinary person who performs an extraordinary act under outrageous conditions.”  Someone once used that definition, and I couldn’t agree more.  What I’m about to share is a story of heroes … a story of those who performed amazing feats; exhibited courage and offered unconditional love; a story of those who displayed professionalism, yet whose hearts shone through.  In many ways, this story is not my own.  You may recognize some of these heroes from your own story.

Monday, January 23, 2006

I got up at 5:15 that morning, in order to catch an early flight.  Because I traveled quite a bit for work, I was all too familiar with the morning chaos at the airport.  I knew the drive to the airport would be both lengthy and tedious.  Then, of course, I had to park my car, catch a shuttle to my gate, check my bags, and then hope I got a decent seat placement.  It’s my nature to always allow extra time for everything to fall into place.  This particular morning, I was in line for security scanning and had my boarding pass an hour-and-a-half ahead of my scheduled departure.  I took a quick inventory of everything I needed for my business trip and felt confident my trip would be successful. 

I had just received a new computer bag as a gift from my wife for my business trips.  This wasn’t any ordinary computer bag:  I could fit not only my computer, but also my printer, my presentation materials, and all of the wires and hook-ups I would need into the bag.  I could even stuff a novel into the front pocket of my case to occupy any uneventful minutes during my trip.  It was terrific—and heavy.  I was fully prepared for my trip, but not for what I experienced that day.

I cleared security at the airport and settled into a seat to work on my computer.  Kansas City International had free Internet access, so I was able to catch up on my e-mail.  Time flew by as I worked, until I checked my watch; it was getting dangerously close to departure time and they had not yet called the flight.  A rush of anxiety surged through me, since I still had a connection to make in Minneapolis.  I was concerned that it might be a tight connection.

Hoping for answers, I got in line and ask the gate agent what was going on.  He explained that there had been a flight delay and that an announcement was pending.  Although I appreciated his willingness to hear me out, I knew that my connection in Minneapolis could be threatened by the delay.   The friendly gate agent checked the monitor and, sure enough, the next flight out of Minneapolis would be later that afternoon.  If I flew on a later flight, I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough time to complete my work before I had to leave again.

I wasn’t happy, but there was nothing I could do.  I fretted over the time and went back to my computer work.  Airlines generally allow for a certain amount of flight delay in the connection time between flights, so I decided to assume everything would work out.

I was traveling that day on a Northwest Airlines flight from Kansas City to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.  Once in Sioux Falls, a rental car would be waiting for me for my drive to the impressive city of Mitchell, South Dakota.  Mitchell is famous for the Corn Palace, a building that’s decorated with multi-colored corncobs replicating ornate depictions of people and historical events each year.  It’s really quite a sight and is the community’s pride and joy.  My agenda include a meeting with a car dealer to study and analyze his parts and service departments.  If successful in my analysis, it would lead to an additional training program for the dealership personnel.  The analysis would be quite time consuming, and I planned to get started as soon as I arrived. 

Annoyed at the ticking minutes, I tapped my watch to see if perhaps it was moving in fast-forward.  It was already an hour past departure time, practically guaranteeing my missed connection flight.  Finally, the announcement came and we boarded.  I got an excellent seat and I remember thinking, Ah … my luck is changing.

I read my book all the way to Minneapolis.  When I exited my seat, I was near the front of the plane, so I was able to de-plane quickly.  I headed for the bank of departure monitors on the wall.  I checked my watch and learned that I had twenty minutes before my next flight.  Quickly, I scanned the monitors looking for Sioux Falls, saw it, and did a double take.  I had come into gate G-8.  The departure for Sioux Falls was at gate A-2.  I had to find an airport map—and fast.  A-2 was on the opposite side of the airport.  It was both a long walk—or should I say jog—and then a train ride to get there.  I made a rushed “two-step” while using the moving sidewalks and then the train to get to gate A-2.  I made it with five minutes to spare.  The ticket agent smiled warmly, as I handed my ticket to her.  I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead, and the agent’s smiled waned.  The ticket machine had rejected my ticket.  Finally she said, “Oh! This ticket is for Sioux Falls; my gate is for Sioux City.” 

My heart sank.  I knew I had missed my connection.  The agent noticed my look of desperation and announced that she’d call over to the other gate to let them know they’d have a late arrival.

 “You mean I might make the flight?” I queried.

 “Yes, but you’ll have to hurry.”

I thanked her profusely and took off in a flash.

I dodged around people, skipped the train—because it had just passed going the other way—and hoofed in a trot the whole way to gate F-6.  You see, F comes before G and if I had just turned left, instead of right, I would have been at the gate with time to spare.  As I rushed through the airport, cursing my stupidity.  I kept thinking, “I’m not going to make it; I’m not going to make it.”

Miracles of all miracles, I made it!  My ticket was scanned, and I was admitted onto the plane.  Although I felt badly that I had detained everyone, my mood was lifted.  When I was informed that my that my seat had been upgraded to first class due to my frequent flyer status, I thought perhaps I had worked myself into a frenzy over nothing.  I swung my fifty-plus pound bag into the overhead compartment and took my seat.  The flight attendant must’ve read my mind, because she promptly brought me a glass of water.  One more person boarded the flight and took a seat right in front of me.  Whew, I wasn’t the last one after all. 

I chuckled.  I felt obligated to explain my tardiness and my sweating and winded state, so I relayed my ordeal in the terminal to the person sitting next to me.  The flight crew secured the airplane door and, within minutes, we were airborne.  My mind drifted to my business trip, but for some reason, I simply couldn’t catch my breath.  I usually recover from exercise fairly quickly, so it seemed odd to me that I felt so taxed.  I tried to read my book, thinking this might settle me down a bit, and my heart rate did slow a little.  I watched the plane take on altitude and, as it did, the cabin pressure began to build.  For some reason, I just didn’t feel well.  Something wasn’t right.

Just seven months earlier, my wife and I had decided that I should take an early retirement so we could move to Overland Park, Kansas, to be near our parents and grandchildren.  I had been with a major automobile manufacturer for twenty-two years, so, before I retired, I had a complete physical check-up with my family physician in Germantown, TN. I also got my teeth cleaned and an eye exam before we made our move.  My doctor did tell me that my blood sugars were a little high and that my cholesterol was a bit elevated but that neither warranted medication.  It had been more than two years since my last stress test, and he recommended that I get that done sometime in the upcoming year.  I didn’t think too much about that, since I had no history of heart ailment in my family.  My grandfather and my great grandfather lived into their nineties and were generally healthy.  My mother and my father were still living and had no physical complications.  I thought I had no reason to worry.

Our plane reached 30,000 feet and we banked over what I thought was Mankato, MN, and I felt a pressure in my upper body.  The pain wasn’t immobilizing, but I felt as though someone were sitting on my chest.  I felt pain in my right shoulder and arm and fingers were starting to get numb.  I felt sweaty, but I didn’t feel hot.  I had never before experienced the feeling of being clammy. I could feel my heartbeat, but I couldn’t catch my breath.  I kept wiggling my fingers, trying to get some blood into them.  I felt as though there were a lump in my chest.   Finally, I ask the flight attendant if she could get an aspirin and a glass of water for me.  She had a quizzical look on her face and asked if I was all right.  I said I didn’t think I was and that I could sure use the aspirin.

I realized what was happening, and I couldn’t believe it.  I had always thought I was in fairly good physical condition.  For Pete’s sake, I had just moved across country, refurbished a house, started a new traveling job, and had an important business trip to complete.  I simply did not have time for this! The pain in my shoulder began to radiate into my arm, and I asked again for that aspirin.  The flight attendant asked the passenger next to me to get up.  She sat next to me and once again asked if I was okay.  I repeated the same negative response as before. She commented concernedly, “You really don’t look well.”  I mumbled something, but I’m not sure what that something was.   She asked me if we needed to do something.  I told her that I had pain in my right shoulder symptomatic of a heart attack.  “Wouldn’t the pain be in your left shoulder if this were a heart attack?” she wondered aloud.  I felt as though someone had punched me in the chest.  Everything felt surreal, and I just couldn’t seem to focus.  .  I had a difficult time forming words and remember feeling concerned about any inconvenience to the other passengers. I later found it strange that I was acutely aware of my surroundings, yet in the middle of a dire health crisis.

Suddenly, everything began to go black and my whole body became numb.  I could literally feel the life slipping out of me. I knew I was dying; this was the end.  As I began to fall into the abyss, I could hear the flight attendant talking to me, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.  My last thought was, “God, look after my family, I’m leaving a real mess behind.  They just cannot take care of themselves….”  And that was it. I was gone.