September – October, 1994 (continued): After my nine-day seminar tour of Germany, I had just a few days to rest before leaving for an equally exotic destination: Shanty Creek, Michigan (near Traverse City). Jim Jensen of the Liggett Broadcast group brought me in to teach the company’s salespeople how to put commercials on the air that result in re-orders from the client — hence the title, HOW TO GET RICH THROUGH RE-ORDERS.
To fly into Traverse City from Los Angeles, I had to change planes in Chicago. When I arrived at the airport in L.A., I checked the listing of United Airlines departures but could not find my flight listed. When I asked why not, I was told the flight had been canceled (but never was told why). The next flight to Chicago was scheduled to arrive 14 minutes before my connecting flight to Traverse City.
Obviously, there is no way to make a 14-minute connection at the busiest airport in America…but I had no choice but to try.
To be safe, before taking off I called Hertz to arrange for a rental car in Chicago; the odds are I would have to drive to Traverse City. Inasmuch as they told me it’s an eight-hour drive, my “back-up plan” was to drive all night and arrive at the seminar site just in time to start.
I managed to snag a seat across the aisle from the aircraft’s exit door. United uses two terminals at O’Hare Airport. Naturally, my plane arrived at one terminal and the flight I wanted to catch left from the other. All the passengers assured me I couldn’t make it; the flight attendant pretended to believe I had a chance.
As soon as the plane was parked at the gate, I stood up and yelled, “Nobody move!” I grabbed my stuff from the overhead compartment — suitcase, tote bag, and computer — and began a desperate run through the airport. I was amazed at how quickly I became completely winded — lungs burning up — while running with that load.
To my shock, I reached the plane two minutes before take-off.
Six or seven hours later, my heart reduced its pounding and my perspiration reduced its flow.
That was a picnic, however, compared to my schedule — and problems — the following week.
Next Week: A dislocated shoulder…aboard an airplane.
