CHAPTER 28
SITTING NEXT TO A ROCK STAR
I
’m guessing that most people, if asked who they’d most like to sit next to
in an airplane, would name their favorite actor, athlete, or Kardashian. I
always thought I’d like to sit next to Paul McCartney—as if he’d fly com-
mercial—so that I could ask him about his inspiration for “Let It Be.”
Although I’ve never bumped into any of the former Beatles, I was fortu-
nate enough to sit next to someone else I consider a bona fide rock star, on
a flight from DC to California: General Stanley McChrystal, legendary
American warrior and former commander of the Joint Special Operations
Command (JSOC).
Over the years, on the many flights I’ve taken, I’ve had several “celeb-
rity sightings” and even had the opportunity to meet one or two of them
in the process. I sat in front of a beret-wearing Samuel L. Jackson on a
night flight to London, and across the aisle from late, great US Marine
and Full Metal Jacket actor R. Lee Ermey on a flight to DC. American
treasure Stevie Wonder wrote a touching message on my youngest daugh-
ter’s boarding pass after we gave up our seats for the kind-hearted musical
genius and his assistant on a post–Fourth of July flight from DC. While all
of these brushes with celebrity were exciting, none of them compared with
my encounter with the man many of us in my line of work consider to be
an unsung American hero.
I first noticed McChrystal, whom I’d never met in person, waiting at
the hectic departure gate at Dulles International Airport before our flight
to California. Recently retired, he was attired in civilian clothing. I’d been
in DC the previous several days to attend my old friend R. J.’s retirement
ceremony at CIA headquarters. I was wearing an OSS baseball cap that
I’d purchased at the CIA gift shop after the ceremony. (The CIA gift shop
has evolved from a tiny space hidden somewhere in the warren of dark,257