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Life Articles
Keeping a Promise
In the summer of 1996 I found myself in Palm Springs
meeting with Pierre LaCroix the General Manager of the Colorado
Avalanche. It was their inaugural season and they had just won the
1996 Stanley Cup championship a week before. I was talking to Pierre
because my company was a new contender in the making of championship
rings. Having made the previous Stanley Cup rings for the New Jersey
Devils and the Super Bowl rings for the Dallas Cowboys we were trying
to extend our winning streak to include a ring for the Colorado
Avalanche. As I spoke to Mr. LaCroix I was immediately struck maybe
for the first time, what it felt like, the true after-glow of not
only a job well done but perfection. The Avalanche had achieved
what no inaugural NHL hockey team had ever done, won the Stanley
Cup championship and in sweeping fashion no less. I asked Pierre
what was his most exciting moment and he told me that it was when
he raised that cup above his head and then realized Rene Angelil,
his best friend and husband to Celine Dion had snuck in the building
to be there for his buddy. Win or lose he wanted to be there. True
friendship can’t be replaced for a million dollars!
Subsequently, we were awarded our second Stanley
Cup ring account. At the time of the closing I told Pierre that
I was moved by what his friend had done and promised that when he
found himself in a similar position to win the Stanley Cup I would
be in that arena to watch him raise the cup over his head.
Flash forward to Thursday night June 7, 2001.
The Avalanche have just staved off elimination and forced the New
Jersey Devils to game seven back in Denver. I frantically confirmed
all my reservations to make sure there weren’t any foul ups
and went to bed. It would be my last good night’s sleep for
63 hours.
Friday, 6:00AM I got up, exercised and headed
off to work. I was trying to get caught up on all my paperwork because
our General Manager and I had 6:30AM flights on Frontier Airlines
out of Houston Saturday morning. By 10:00AM I had contacted Charlotte,
Pierre LaCroix’s assistant to confirm tickets to the seventh
game. "Hi Charlotte, this is Fred." "You going to
make it?", Charlotte asked. "Of course, I gave Pierre
my word. I’m going to be there no matter what, I don’t
care if I have to go through hell and high water but I’m going
to be there." (I had no idea how those words would come back
to haunt me.) "Don’t worry." Charlotte said, "I
don’t know how I’m going to pull it off but you’ll
have two tickets at will call. I have to go, have a safe trip."
The Quest Begins
I left my office around 7:00PM, went to Luby’s for a quick
bite and home to pack. On my way home I noticed some dark clouds
out in the distance. I paid them no heed. Once home, I relaxed and
was upset that my favorite shows on ABC kept being interrupted for
thunderstorm warnings. My satellite signal kept breaking up and
I was forced to go to local reception. The rain kept falling 8:00,
9:00, 10:00, 11:00. The weatherman said that the remnants of tropical
storm Allison, which had gone through Houston on Tuesday, had stalled
and slipped so quietly, back over Houston and was getting fed by
feeder bands from the Gulf of Mexico. The rain was not expected
to stop any time soon. Road closings were beginning to show up at
the bottom of my television screen. I dialed up Rick Antona, our
General Manager. "Rick, this is Fred, this rain is starting
to look serious." "Yeah maybe", he replied "But
it will have long stopped by the time we need to head off at 4:00AM."
"Yeah maybe you’re right." "Look Fred I need
to catch a few winks." "Alright, alright, I’ll see
you in the morning."
Sleep sounded pretty good to me. It was approaching
midnight and I would need to be up in three hours anyway so I turned
off the light and the TV. Crash!! No sooner had I turned off my
bedside light when a great roar of thunder made me sit straight
up in bed. My heart was racing and I knew I was in trouble. My street
was starting to flood and the minute I turned on the TV, I heard
reports of not only roads being closed, but major highways. I called
Rick again but now he was up too. "My God Fred have you seen
this? It’s a mess! We might not be able to go to Denver."
"What! Are you kidding me!! We are going to Denver! It’s
just we’re going to have to leave a lot earlier than we expected.
If this keeps going on, we are leaving at 2:00AM." You’re
nuts Fred!" "No, I’m not! You be ready, I’ll
leave to come pick you up at two.
16 Hours Before Game
My dad had made fun of me when I had bought my Range Rover saying
that it was too much machine for a city fella who had no intentions
of climbing mountains or going to the outback, but now I felt vindicated.
This was going to be my ticket through the rain to the airport,
to the seventh game of the Stanley Cup Finals. I was off.
Our general manager lived in a low-lying area
of Houston near Memorial Park. There were two ways to get to him
Loop 610 to I-10 or down Memorial road. When I left I had no idea
I-10 had been closed in both directions off of Loop 610 and Memorial
road was 30 feet under water in some sections! After six hours,
two rescues of other passengers that were stranded I still didn’t
have my GM and my telephone portable was running out of juice. I
made two phone calls before it died. One to my GM to tell him I
was going at it alone and one call to my father. He told me to be
careful, to please be very careful.
Flood Waters
Since the rain had started Northwest of Houston and moved Southeast
through the night, I felt my best bet at getting to the airport
was to stay on Loop 610 (the highest road around in most places)
then move on to the Hardy Toll road (also high elevation) to Bush
Intercontinental airport. My plan seemed to work flawlessly. The
feeder roads and access roads were closed but the loop was clear
sailing (no pun intended). Then traffic suddenly stopped at Market
Street and Loop 610. There had been an accident and now my highway
to heaven was shut down.
As I sat in my truck knowing it could be hours before it would clear
up and seeing perfectly unused highway on the other side I looked
to my right, at a small river which used to be called Market Street.
Light bulb! I’ve got it! I’ll slide off the overpass,
cross Market Street, jump back on the hill of the overpass and ride
up. I could be on the other side of this traffic. The only question
was how deep was the water? (I should take a moment to point out
that there is a fine line between clever and insane. I was about
to find out what side of that line I was on.)
As I made my way down the overpass and into the water I kept reminding
myself of the sales pitch the salesman at Land Rover had told me,
"You can climb Mount Everest, cross the Panama Canal and the
Sahara Desert all without batting an eye." We were about to
see how right he was. When the hood of my car was under water and
I was still moving swiftly along, I felt a sense of exhilaration.
Wow! This thing is a tank! I can go anywhere! I can do anything!
I can … that’s when I saw it, a Range Rover 4.6 floating
20 feet ahead of me!! I panicked!! The other side of Market Street
was 10 feet away and so too was the hill to the other side of the
overpass. I turned my truck slightly and headed for higher ground.
Ten seconds later I made it, two minutes later I was on the other
side of Loop 610 East heading unimpeded to the Hardy Toll road.
Smooth sailing again till I got to almost exact
the situation I had just bypassed. Traffic accident at Loop 610
and I-45. I was one mile from the Hardy Toll road according to "James"
my in-house Global Positioning system. (At no time did James ever
lose his composure.) To continue I would have to repeat my little
maneuver but this water looked deeper. I was terrified. On the radio
I was already hearing of reported deaths. There would later be twenty-two.
I had to ask myself, "Is a silly seventh game of the Stanley
Cup finals, a promise made half a decade ago worth losing my life?"
"Hell yeah!" and I was off!
When I got off Loop 610 and stared at almost two
football fields of water I began to have second thoughts. Just then
an 18-wheeler came barreling through like a bat out of hell! As
he parted the water I saw land created behind him in his wake. This
was my chance!! I tucked in behind him and we were moving. About
thirty feet shy of the edge of the overpass that I would need to
climb, the 18-wheeler stalled out! His wake slowly but surely began
overtaking me and my green little Range Rover. Within seconds I
was almost entirely under water. I swerved left and headed for the
overpass; time stopped but my Range Rover didn’t!! I made it
to the overpass and back on to Loop 610 to the Hardy Toll road.
I had cheated the flood gods a second time.
As I rolled down a relatively dry Hardy Toll road,
"James" in his distinct English accent informed me that
we would soon be exiting the motorway. I was just a few miles from
the airport. I had two choices; leave the Hardy Toll road for a
quicker entrance down Beltway 8 or stay on the Hardy Toll road and
take the back entrance. I decided to take the short cut. In my mind
I had waited long enough and needed to get to the airport.
As I exited to Beltway 8, I saw waters similar
to what I had encountered on the feeder roads so I though nothing
of it when I slowly began to go under. Fifty feet ahead I saw something
floating on the water. It was the traffic lights. I stopped immediately,
got back up on the Hardy Toll road and on to the airport. Not knowing
if more rain was coming I parked on the roof. I had slipped by the
flood gods a third time on this fateful day.
The Airlines
At the terminal all I saw was red cancelled notices next to flight
after flight on the departure boards. The agent at Frontier informed
me that the flight crew had not shown up for my flight so it had
been cancelled along with the rest of the day’s flights. "Attention.
Attention. Due to the flood, Bush Intercontinental Airport will
be closing in 45 minutes.", the man on the loud speaker informed
the stranded passengers at the airport. I couldn’t believe
it! No way was this ending here. I asked the agent, "What about
Continental? Do they have any flights?" "Nope, sorry buddy
you’re not going anywhere, all the flights are cancelled."
As I walked away in disbelief I noticed a long line at American
Airlines. Why are they in line? To get a quick answer the back of
the line was not the solution. So I got in the first class cabin
line.
"May I help you?" the flight agent said
with all the smile she could muster. "My name is Fred Cuellar,
(I laid out my business card, driver’s license and platinum
American Express down in front of her.) I am the jeweler to the
Colorado Avalanche and I need to get to Denver for the seventh game
of the Stanley Cup finals, please help me!" "Sir, we don’t
have any direct flights but let’s see if we can get you to
Dallas and make a connection there for you to Denver. Yes, that
we can do. We have two flights left and I think I can get you on
one of them, just give me a second." Kapow!! All the boards
to American Airlines went dead. One by one I heard all the agents
say to their passengers, "I’m sorry but we will no longer
be able to assist you." "What, you can’t get me a
ticket?" "I’m sorry my board is out." "Look
there has to be something you can do, someone you call, please."
"Wait, call…hmm. I got an idea." She picked up the
phone and dialed another airport and asked can they enter me into
their computer? Within ten minutes I am in American Airlines’
database and have a handwritten ticket. "Look", she tells
me, "This isn’t an official ticket but you’re in
the system, just show this to the gate agent and you’ll get
on." "Should I wait for your system to come back?"
"No" she said, "You have to hurry, they are closing
security in five minutes!" I thanked her and ran. When I got
to security I was one of the last people allowed through but only
after practically a strip search where my belt, phone, watch, keys,
pen, money clip, change had be removed because I kept setting off
the metal detector. But I got through and on the flight.
Once on the flight the captain told us that clearance
for take off was being delayed due to the weather and he would keep
us notified but lo and behold an hour later we were up and away.
Now, not having a real ticket, I had no idea what time my connecting
flight left for Denver. When I got off the plane in Dallas, I saw
that my flight was leaving in six minutes and was currently boarding!
I ran and I ran. I had 36 gates to cross! As I passed the half way
mark I was convinced my heart was going to burst! Sadly, I had not
visited Mr. Treadmill enough. Within five minutes I could spot my
gate. They were closing the door. All I could think was no, no,
no! Wait, don’t leave without me!! When I got to the agent
I couldn’t breath much less speak. "Me, plane go, Avalanche,
please, help. "I’m sorry, sir we’ve just closed the
doors!" "No, me plane, go, Avalanche." "Okay,
calm down." She called the plane and told them to wait a second
that she might have one more passenger. "Can I see your driver’s
license and ticket?" I handed her both. "Nope you’re
not in the system and this is not a legal ticket." "What!?"
She picked up her little white phone and told the plane to leave!
"Look again, I’ve got to be in there! I’ve got to
get to the Stanley Cup finals, I’m the jeweler to the Avalanche,
I promised Pierre LaCroix five years ago and..." "Oh,
here you are I’m sorry, you’ll have a ticket." "Okay,
then, now that’s better." A few minutes passed, "Alrighty,
then you’ll be leaving out of gate 37 in about one hour."
"One hour, what about this flight?" "Oh, I’m
sorry sir it’s gone." "Aghh, when does my next flight
get into Denver?" "3:30 Mountain", she replied. Okay,
all right I’m gonna make it. Once I land I’ll still have
two-and-a-half hours to game time.
Flight 1667
My flight to Denver boarded right on time. I couldn’t believe
it. Everybody was in their seat, no late arrivals everything was
perfect. Then… whirr, whirr, whirr, pop! went the engine. "What
was that?" I said out loud. The captain came on immediately,
"Good afternoon folks, it appears we have a problem with our
rear thruster. We’ve asked maintenance to come out and take
a look at it. It should take about 30 to 35 minutes. We’ll
keep you informed." "I’m cursed!" I thought
to myself. All right don’t panic, if they fix the engine I’ll
still get there a little after 4:00. I’ll still have two hours.
"Hello this your captain again, it doesn’t
seem like we can fix this rear thruster problem, but as it turns
out we don’t need it for take off. So we’re going to just
stick a pin in it so it doesn’t come on during flight and we’ll
be ready for take off. By the way, since we’ve used up a little
bit of our gas sitting here we’ve requested that our tanks
be topped off. We should be under way in about 30 minutes."
Thirty minutes! The best we can do is get there by 4:30, I am running
out of time. My mind kept racing on the exact time it would take
to get to the Adams Mark Hotel, change and get to the Pepsi Center.
It can be done in an hour and a half.
Ninety minutes into the flight my mind had finally
gone on auto pilot and I was about to get my first minutes sleep
when suddenly…check, check "This is your captain speaking,
I’ve just gotten a report that they have closed the Denver
airport due to some bad weather and funnel clouds, we expect to
be re-routed back to Amarillo in a couple of minutes. I’m sorry
we are currently 120 miles from Denver."
"That’s it!" I screamed at the
top of my lungs to the rest of the passengers in the cabin. "I’ve
had enough!! I can’t believe I’ve come this far to end
up in Amarillo! God I’m talking straight to you now, split
the skies, do what ever the hell you have to and open up that Denver
airport!" "I am the jeweler to the Colorado Avalanche
and I have to be at the seventh game of the Stanley Cup finals!"
Everyone in the plane was silent, you could hear a pin drop when
a young man from across the aisle quietly said, "You’ve
got tickets to the Stanley Cup finals?" I nodded yes. "Do
you have an extra ticket?" I nodded again yes. "Can I
go with you?" Before I could respond his wife smacked him.
"What are you talking about, we have to drive three and a half
hours home once we land, we’ve got no time for you to go traipsing
off to a hockey game!" "Honey it’s not just a hockey
game it’s the hockey game! Bourque after 22 years can finally
raise the cup. Patrick Roy the most winning goalie in history could
win his third Con Smythe, the Avalanche for the first time can win
the Stanley Cup on home ice!!" "Honey please!" Then
there was a whisper between them and he said, "My name is Rusty,
this is my wife Kathi. If I did go, my wife doesn’t have anywhere
to be." "Look," I said "If by some miracle we
end up in Denver versus Amarillo your wife can stay in my hotel
room." "See honey it will work out!" They began to
whisper again, "Sir" "Call me Fred." "Fred
what do you want for the ticket. We can’t afford very much,
I’m a professional skydiver and money’s a little tight."
"Rusty, like I said before, if God will see his way to get
us to Denver you can have the ticket, no charge. You’re the
type of person that should be at the game, a real fan!" Check,
check this is your pilot speaking. "Folks you’re not going
to believe this but the storm center has just moved and they’ve
reopened Denver airport!" "Rusty promptly threw up from
the excitement of the prospect of his first Avalanche hockey game.
By the time we landed I had an hour to make it to the hotel room,
shower, change and get to the Pepsi Center. We made it 36 seconds
before the Avalanche took the ice. Rusty threw up again from the
excitement! Pierre LaCroix had gotten me seats on the 50-yard line
(center ice) 13 rows up. It was magic.
At the end of the game when Bourque was skating
around the rink with Lord Stanley’s Cup over his head Pierre
was just taking the ice. He looked up at me and smiled. A promise
made is a promise kept.
by Fred Cuellar the Diamond Guy®
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