Blindsided is the authoritative guide to crisis management.

This "how to" handbook gives essential advice that every manager needs to know when a crisis hits. Written by CMI Founder/CEO Bruce Blythe, it's a fascinating, easy-to-read guide that draws on Blythe's 20+ years of experience as a pioneer in crisis management.


  Images of New York linger, even at home



NewYork- Clinical therapist Rick King was calm and patient Friday evening as he counseled jetBlue passengers from behind a sign at the terminal that said, "Emotional Support for Our Passengers." Of course, he had come up from Atlanta by car. I, on the other hand, was among the first groups about to fly nonstop from John F. Kennedy International Airport to California since Tuesday's unspeakable terrorist assaults.

Or so I hoped.

For three days, I had ridden an emotional roller coaster of disbelief, shock, depression and fear. I felt like I was shooting a war movie Tuesday evening as I toured the mayhem of soot and smoke around the World Trade Center. I quivered and briefly cried two days later when a jet roared over the 23-story apartment building in Brooklyn where I grew up and where I was visiting my parents on a vacation from which I now badly need a vacation.

"Your wrapped up wit all kinds of emotions and you don't know which one to feel or to trust," said King, who distributed three pages of information, published by Crisis Management International Inc., about dealing with traumatic stress.

The pages advised me to discuss my feelings and let them run their course like the flu. I should realize that those around me are also under stress. Bad dreams and flashbacks are common.

Around me, several passengers watched the TV news and tried to wipe the tension from their brows. A few slept on the floor, have been stranded for days. Others paced nervously.

I was actually relieved as I boarded Flight 89 to Ontario, for I had seemingly won a three-day roulette game with the airline by picking the first flight home that would not be canceled due to airport closures. Security was tighter than ever, with non-passengers banned from terminal teeming with police. And the terrorist seemed to have made their point, at least for now.

But there were moments.

Out on the tarmac, our flight was delayed nearly an hour as pilots waited fro Air Force One to leave nearby LaGuardia Airport. I remembered that the terrorists had some unfinished business. They could use my plane to attack Bush's.

Nearly an hour behind schedule, we flew out over a still-smoking city. The airline's satellite TV offered little more than cable news about the terrorist attacks and History Channel's "Tales of the Gun," which focused this evening on the Soviet AK-47's role in the Cold War. Intermittent storms seemed to provide more turbulence than usual.

I tried to take a cue from the flight attendants on our surreal, journey, who smiled, laughed and applauded a passenger's birthday as if they had discovered a much more potent medication than the Prozac my mother provided.

I read. I watched TV. I even slept a bit. Then another moment over Las Vegas. A perfect symbol of American gluttony and decadence, it's got to be on every Islamic extremist's A-list.

But it too passes. As we touched down, nearly all of the approximately 160 passengers applauded. Some also cried in relief. I, too, was relieved.

But the 3,000 miles between us and New York didn't seem like enough. A dust-covered car in the airport parking lot returned me to the sooty nightmare of lower Manhattan. A minute later, I heard what sounded like a handful of shots, possibly from an assault rifle. And as I drove home, a cloud off in the horizon became the perpetual smoke could of the toppled towers. The skies over New York may soon clear, but that smoke cloud will forever burn in my memory.