I don’t believe in God, but I believe in hell. I’ve been there. It all began with a late-night phone call from my ex-wife, telling me that our eldest son had overdosed on drugs and was near death. She said that a buddy of his had found him and initiated CPR. When the paramedics arrived, they were able to jump-start his heart, but now our boy Paul was in the ICU of the local hospital in a coma, on a respirator, with total organ failure.
I was vacationing in Florida with our other child, Luc, visiting Grandma for spring break. We caught the first plane home to Arizona the following morning. The airline charged me an additional thousand bucks despite the fact that we already had return tickets for later in the week—good capitalists! They sat us in wide, soft, overstuffed leather seats—the only time in my life I ever flew first class. Yeah, we’re all born naked, but we ride to hell in luxury.