The Seven Longest Yards

by Chris Norton

  I watched the next row stand up. Then the next. They were getting closer and closer. Then it was our turn. I tried to slow my breathing as my classmate pushed me down the row and off to the side while I waited to hear my name. Finally, it came. “Christopher . . . Anderson . . . Norton.” My heart pounded in my ears as one of my best friends, Tanner, pushed me up the ramp. Emily stepped up to the stage and stood in front of me, moving my feet out of the footrests and onto the stage floor.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, grinning.

  “Let’s do this,” I said.

  Just like we had practiced so many times, I placed my hands on the sides of my seat cushion and tried to push myself out of the chair. I wanted to do as much by myself as I could. But today, my hands shook uncontrollably. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the heat, maybe it was just one of those days. But whatever it was, I quickly realized it wasn’t going to work.

  I looked up at Emily. “Can you help me up?”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you want to do it yourself?”

  I shook my head. “I need help.”

  Emily bent down, and I leaned into her shoulders as she gripped me under my arms. We hadn’t practiced this part, and I could feel the tassel on my cap whacking both of us in the face. But within a few seconds, I was on my feet. Okay, I thought. Now I can do this.

  We took the position—her arms out, my hands on her elbows. Step. Step. Shuffle. I stared at the floor. Don’t step on her feet, I thought. With a few more steps behind us, I smiled. I knew I had momentum now. People had begun to cheer as soon as I stood out of my chair. Now the crowd was so loud that I began to hear the gasps and cheers as I kept moving. But I was completely focused on my walk.

  I was still moving, but my steps weren’t as big as I needed them to be. “Can you put your hands on my hips?” I asked Emily. With a little extra help to stabilize my core, I was able to focus on my legs.

  Step. Step. Step. I tried to look up every so often. This was the moment I had waited for. I wanted to remember it.

  Finally, we reached the college president. Emily shifted me to her side, and I leaned against her as I stuck out my hand to shake the president’s hand. When the place erupted in cheers, I jumped, startled. For the first time, I looked around and realized that everyone was on their feet. Applause echoed off the wood floor and into the rafters. Some people I had never met were openly crying. Energy built to a crescendo as I pumped my fist and took my diploma.

  Emily and I grinned at one another. We didn’t have to say a word. We both knew what the other was thinking—We did it.

  Emily helped me back into my chair. When Tanner wheeled me off the stage, I exhaled as a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. It was over. I did what I wanted to do, and by the grace of God, I succeeded. I thought about all the workouts, the roughly 4,500-plus hours of dedication to one goal, to one moment. So many times I had asked myself, What am I doing? I never had an answer, but I kept going anyway. Now I knew the answer. This moment would forever be something I’m proud of.

  The cheers hadn’t died down as other graduates hugged me and wiped their eyes. I was blown away by their emotional response. I had always known that the Luther College community supported me, but I had no idea how invested they were in my story or how much they cared.

  Five years before, doctors had told me I had a three percent chance of ever moving anything below my shoulders. I wondered how I could ever go back to school and get my degree. I worried that no one would see past my injury and love me for who I am. That graduation Sunday, I shattered those odds. I shattered those doubts. True, I didn’t have the life I had imagined. This one was even better.

  My graduation walk felt like the kind of moment where the curtain goes down or the movie screen goes dark. But that always signals an end. This was not the end but a beginning—one I could not wait to dive into.

  12

  Media Frenzy

  EMILY

  With the graduation walk behind us, Chris and I were riding an unbelievable high. Not only had we accomplished the goal we’d worked so hard to achieve, we were also getting married. I couldn’t stop holding out my hand and admiring the diamond sparkling on my finger. I wondered how people ever got anything done with an engagement ring on their hand. I didn’t know if I’d ever stop staring at it. My heart felt so full that it was hard for me to remember how I’d put walls up around it before our move to Michigan.

  No media outlets covered the graduation as we had once hoped they would, but we still had a video of the moment, thanks to a friend of Chris who’s also a videographer. Chris posted the video on YouTube and then shared the link on his Facebook page. We hoped it might inspire a few people. Right away the post got hundreds of shares and comments. A local TV station also ended up doing a story the next morning with a blurry clip that someone who was at the graduation had sent them. Chris and I were both thrilled that word was getting out. This was exactly what we had hoped would happen.

  The day after graduation was Memorial Day. Chris and I were at his parents’ house hanging out with friends and catching up when Chris noticed he had a voice mail. “I have no idea who this is,” he said. “Hold on, let me listen to it.”

  I watched his face go white as he held the phone to his ear. “Em?” he said after hanging up. “Uh, that was Fox & Friends.”

  “Shut up.” I thought he was joking. “Fox & Friends seriously called you? Why?”

  “Apparently they saw the graduation video and want to interview us. Tomorrow.”

  My jaw practically hit the floor. We thought the graduation walk might get some local coverage from the Iowa outlets that had followed his story since his accident, but never in our wildest dreams did we think it would become a national story. “Do they want us to come to New York City?” I asked.

  “No, no. We have to go to one of their local affiliates, and they’ll do a satellite interview.”

  “But . . . I have nothing to wear!” were the first words out of my mouth. “I need to go shopping!” I think I was in shock.

  Chris’s sisters jumped in. “You can borrow something from us!” Katie said. “Don’t worry! You’re welcome to anything in our closets.” Thankfully, both his sisters were about my size. Chris still had some dress clothes at his parents’ house, so he was set.

  The producer who contacted Chris told us where to go and said we had to be at the studio by 6:00 a.m. Tuesday. It was our second ridiculously early morning in four days, but once again we were so excited that we didn’t mind.

  When we arrived at the studio, though, my excitement gave way to nerves. I gulped as a producer led us into a room stocked with breakfast pastries and coffee. A TV played in the corner, and we were each given earpieces to listen to the interviewer. I looked at Chris to see if he was as jittery as I was, but I should have known better. He seemed unbelievably calm and relaxed.

  CHRIS

  I had a lot of experience doing interviews, but the live TV thing freaked me out a little, especially when the Fox & Friends producer said we wouldn’t be able to see Elizabeth Hasselbeck, who was interviewing us that day. We had to look into the camera, pretend we could see her, and rely on the earpiece to know when to respond. What could possibly go wrong?

  Emily and I took our places in the studio. Both of us kept grinning with excitement. Then a producer told us we’d be on in five minutes. All I could think was: Don’t say something stupid! Thankfully I didn’t, at least not that I can remember. Looking back, the interview itself is a blur. Emily and I both thought we did a pretty good job of telling our story. However, neither of us had any idea how big of a difference this walk could make, so we weren’t intentional about adding value to other people’s lives. Instead, we focused on simply answering the questions and not messing up on national television. The more interviews we did, the less our nerves got the best of us.

  After doing the interview, we met up with some of my family at a diner over in Prairie Meadows for breakfast. We were enjoying our meal and c
offee when I heard a TV announcer say my name. I looked up expecting to see a replay of the Fox & Friends interview but was instead shocked to see our graduation video playing on CNN.

  “Wow. Do you think anyone else will pick it up?” I asked Emily.

  The answer to my question was a resounding yes! The Fox & Friends interview immediately went viral, which made my email explode with media requests. I fielded inquiries from an Australian newspaper, a Brazilian newspaper, even media outlets in China and Norway. Since we were still living out of suitcases, Emily drove to Von Maur and Express to buy dresses for more interviews. She got four dresses just in case, never imagining she would end up wearing all of them.

  I scheduled phone interviews, and Emily and I sat down with the Des Moines Register and the CBS Evening News. The Des Moines Register article ended up running in USA Today.

  And that was only our Tuesday. Every once in a while during that long crazy day, Emily and I would look at one another and say, “Holy cow. This is crazy.”

  By Tuesday night we thought the madness was over, but when we woke up Wednesday morning, I had two missed calls and two voice mails from NBC Nightly News. I was excited to call them back.

  “We saw your story, and we’d really like to get you on our broadcast tonight,” the producer said when I returned the call. “Are you available for us to send out a news crew in a couple of hours?”

  I looked at the clock. It was only 7:30 a.m. Neither of us had showered yet, and the house was cluttered from yesterday’s chaos. But I answered, “Sure, that would be great!”

  I had just finished telling Emily about the NBC interview when my phone rang again. And again. And again. A few local stations wanted to come and do interviews too. My answer was always the same: “Sure!”

  For the next several hours, my parents’ living room became a television studio filled with cameras, cables, and news crews. At one point we had three different crews at our house. When those interviews were finished, we dashed over to a local radio station for another. Before I could catch my breath, I checked my phone and noticed I had another voice mail. “Em?” I said after listening. “It’s Good Morning America. They want us to come to New York.”

  Emily smacked my arm. “Stop it. Seriously?”

  “I have to call him back and work out the details.”

  The producer I called picked up after just one ring. “Hey, we want you guys to do an exclusive in-studio interview with Robin Roberts tomorrow morning,” the producer said. “Can you do it?”

  I looked at Emily and mouthed, “Can we go to New York?” She nodded so hard I thought she would give herself a headache.

  “Yeah, we can do it,” I answered.

  “Great. We’ll book a flight. Your parents can come too. We’ll pay for their trip. What I need you to do is stop whatever you’re doing. Go home. Pack your bags and head to the airport. We’ll figure out the flights while you drive.”

  My dad floored it down the highway while I filled Emily and my mom in on the details.

  My phone rang again. “There is a flight leaving in an hour and a half,” the producer said. “Can you make it?”

  We still weren’t home. We still needed to pack, plus my parents’ house is a good twenty-five minutes from the Des Moines airport. But I said, “Absolutely. We’ll be there.”

  EMILY

  My heart pounded, and I checked the time every two seconds as we raced back to Chris’s parents’ house. Thank God I bought all those dresses, I thought.

  Chris’s parents don’t have a wheelchair-accessible car, so we had transferred Chris from his chair into the vehicle. When we finally got home, Chris and I exchanged glances. “There’s no time for a transfer, right?” I said.

  Chris shook his head. “I’ll wait here. Go!”

  His mom and dad and I dashed into the house like that scene from Home Alone when they oversleep and try to make their flight. I tossed my dress and Chris’s suit into a suitcase like a madwoman. Even Chris’s mom, who is notorious for traveling with the biggest suitcase known to man, got her things packed really quickly. Within minutes we were back in the car and on our way to the airport.

  All of us could barely contain our excitement. “We’re going to New York City!” I squealed. I had never been there before and couldn’t wait to see Time’s Square, eat at good restaurants, and do some shopping.

  Part of me felt panicked because we didn’t have the plane tickets yet, and I desperately wanted this to work. How amazing would it be to share Chris’s story on Good Morning America? I thought.

  Chris’s dad got us to the airport in record time—I don’t even want to know how fast he was driving. We parked, and Terry transferred Chris out of the car while Deb and I unloaded the suitcases. I checked my watch as we made our way to the ticket counter. We made it in time. This was going to work.

  After a few minutes of waiting, we still didn’t have the tickets, but I was confident we would get on a plane soon. We were already at the airport. What other obstacle could there possibly be?

  Then Chris’s phone rang. “Hey, we’re so sorry, but it’s not going to work,” the producer said. “We couldn’t get you on the plane. Every flight is booked.”

  Chris held the phone away from his face and told us what happened. When we heard the news, Deb’s face fell. “Oh no, really? But we came so close.”

  Terry was already starting to gather up the bags when I grabbed Chris’s phone. If there was a way to make this work, I was going to find it.

  “Hi, this is Emily, Chris’s fiancée. Could we try another airport? Omaha isn’t too far from here, or Cedar Rapids. We will go anywhere. Can you just check those airports? We would love to be able to do the interview. This is such a great opportunity, and we really want to do it.”

  I heard the producer type on a computer keyboard. “Let me work on it and call you back. We want you here. Let me see what I can do.”

  I shrugged when I hung up. “Well, we’ll see what happens.”

  “It’s probably not going to work out,” Chris said, ever the realist. “And if it doesn’t, that’s okay.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But I really want it to!”

  Minutes ticked by as we sat around the airport waiting for a call. We found a booth at a Pizza Hut and scarfed down pizza and breadsticks. Normally, I don’t have much of an appetite when I’m discouraged, but we’d done so many interviews that morning that we hadn’t had time to eat lunch.

  We all jumped when Chris’s phone rang. Chris put it on speaker so we could listen. “Okay, it looks like there might be a flight out of Cedar Rapids that I could get you on,” he said. “How long does it take you to get there, and can you leave now?” We were already standing up to leave.

  “Yep. We’re on our way,” Chris said.

  During the hour-and-forty-five-minute drive to Cedar Rapids, the producer found us first-class tickets with a layover in Chicago—it was all that was left. No flights were available going into New York, or even Newark, New Jersey. Our final flight would land in Hartford, Connecticut, which meant we’d have to take a car service from there to our hotel. None of us cared at this point. We just wanted to get there.

  We made it to our gate just in time, and within five minutes they started boarding. Someone who worked at the show messaged Chris. “Are you guys on the plane? We wanted to make sure you made it.” They were relieved to know we had.

  Our plane landed in Chicago right on time, which was perfect because our layover was only forty-five minutes. Then I heard the ding of the loudspeaker. “Folks, we’re having some trouble connecting the gate bridge to the plane. Sit tight a few minutes, and we’ll let you know when it’s time to deplane.”

  I groaned. “You have got to be kidding me!”

  Chris laughed. “Em, there’s nothing we can do. They’ll get it figured out. We’ll be okay.”

  At least ten minutes went by without any updates. I jiggled my knee in frustration and jerked my head around, looking for a flight attenda
nt. “I’m going to say something,” I said as I stood up. I heard Deb laughing as I confronted the first flight attendant I saw. She and the rest of their family are more go-with-the-flow people. All I could think was, We did not come all the way to Chicago to just turn around and go home. I’m going to put some pressure on and see if I can get something to happen.

  “Okay, so here’s the thing. We’re supposed to be on Good Morning America in the morning,” I said firmly. “We’ve gotta go. If we miss our flight, there is no other plane. We will not be on the show. How can we get off this plane and make our flight?”

  The flight attendant furrowed her brow and nodded. “Let me talk to the pilot.”

  The captain announced that he would lower the outdoor steps and let us exit on the ground. Normally, anyone with special needs has to wait for everyone else to deplane first before they can get off the plane. But since we were in first class and the flight attendant knew our situation, the crew made everyone else wait for us to get off before they could leave.

  But there was one more problem. How the heck were we going to get Chris down those steep, narrow stairs? I looked at Terry, my jaw clenched in determination. “Alright. We’re just going to have to carry him. You get his arms. I’ll grab his legs.”

  I was ready to do it too. Thankfully, another passenger heard our plan and stepped in. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “Let me help.”

  The crew had Chris’s chair waiting for him on the ground as our volunteer and Terry hoisted Chris down the stairs. Each step was so skinny that nearly half of Terry’s foot hung off the front of the step. Two other people walked behind him, holding his shoulders to keep him balanced and make sure he didn’t fall forward. My heart raced as I waited for them at the bottom. If I wasn’t so stressed, I would have laughed at the sight of Chris being carried down airplane stairs, but we didn’t have time for laughter.

  With Chris safely in his chair, an airport employee directed us to an elevator under the airport that was clearly a restricted area. Once we made it inside, he pushed Chris’s wheelchair as we sprinted through the terminal.