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By Michael Goldstein
By Dennis Romero
By Sarah Fenske
By Matthew Mullins
By Patrick Range McDonald
By LA Weekly
By Dennis Romero
By Simone Wilson
While on set, I was in an elevator with the band and I attempted to banter with them. “So-o-o ... they’ve been playing your song all day. Are you guys sick of it yet?” They said no.
This uncomfortable exchange was followed by silence. “Well, no news is good news, I always say!” And that was the extent of my conversation with Creed.
I hadn’t so offended anyone with a question since the time I’d asked the garage-rocker I was dating if he ever planned to write and/or dedicate a song to me. His response was: “You are joking, aren’t you?”
He reacted much the same way when I told him that I wanted to one day travel the world doing standup. He thought dedicating a song was a cheesy, embarrassing gesture that really only existed in movies-of-the-week. My audacious inquiry was apparently the most preposterous faux pas I could’ve made, second only to professing my personal aspirations. I was so young that I often misinterpreted his cynicism as wisdom and had a tendency to overlook the fact that he was wearing bright-white man-clogs.
Years later, I finally had the chance to tour the world doing standup. I’d been gone a month, performing for troops in Hawaii, Guam, Japan and Singapore, when we had a near-death experience. On a flight from Singapore to a military island called Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, our windowless plane malfunctioned and plummeted 30,000 feet. We gasped for air in our oxygen masks. We didn’t know what was happening and could only see eyes bulging out over the top of the masks as the crew ran around yelling things, such as, but not limited to, “We’re going down!”
They somehow fixed it and landed the plane safely back in Singapore. Once in L.A., I was sharing this story with a group of people, and a girl said, “Yeah, 30,000 feet’s really not that far.” I hadn’t realized that a near-death experience could be inadequate.
People always want to know: What goes through your mind when you think you’re dying?
Well, of course I was thinking: Who’s going to take care of the kids? Andadditionally, I was wondering: Who’s going to have the kids?
Also, I realized that I wasn’t ready to die and that I still had stories to tell. See, I always thought I’d leave some sort of an artistic mark on the world and if it all ended right then, I might only be remembered for the last thing I’d written, which was a blog about going to a strip club. That kind of bummed me out.
Then I had an epiphany that calmed me. It occurred to me actually that I have left my mark on the world — I was in a Creed video! So if I can leave you with anything here today, I’d like it to be that which I will be remembered by when I die:
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