We all have hundreds of Chris stories, but my most cherished one was when my Mom Bridie (Chris's Aunt) passed away in Feb 2012, Chris was the FIRST one to step up, and insist he accompany me on the saddest flight of my life home to the Emerald Isle, boarding the flight in his Frank & Lindy uniform and Timberland work boots. Somehow, we secured a flight out of EWR on United Airlines, and were seated separately in rows 38 & 40 (literally on the tail, the both of us).
As luck would have it (not) Chris’ seat mate was one “chatty Cathy”, to the point I could see Chris getting visibly agitated (anyone who knows Chris knows that “LOOK”). The guy did NOT get the hint, even after Chris calling over the head rest to me in Row 40, inquiring out loud as to whether I had a spare Xanax?
The seat mate would not be satisfied until he knew what Chris did for a living. To which Chris responded in his big Connolly/Eastchester voice “I am a Personal Comfort Advisor” (aka a Plumber). I will NEVER forget the confused look on his seat mate’s face, and all the puzzled glances from others in the general area as it was a red eye flight.
Not to end there, upon his arrival into SNN (at 6.00am GMT) when Irish customs (with their sleepy heads and barely pulling their asses into their stations) inquired “as to the purpose of his visit?” Chris in Connolly ball breaking style smiled, those baby blues glistening, and said in a matter of fact tone “I’m here to find Jimmy Hoffa!”
#connollystrong