Fat man walking??

The 24 Hours That (Maybe) Sank Chris Christie

The New Jersey governor is learning the hard way that you can’t wait too long to run for president.

By  Matt Katz

When Chris Christie got into the quiet car of an Amtrak train from Washington on Sunday morning and allegedly (although not necessarily) yelled into his phone and got himself kicked out of Amtrak’s quiet car, journalists and politicos were finally talking about the New Jersey governor again.

Christie was on the train returning from an appearance on CBS’s Face The Nation, where he went further than most Republican presidential candidates by alleging that the Black Lives Matter movement calls for killing cops. But that extraordinary comment about a critical American civic issue was lost as Gawker’s account of Christie screaming on his phone, drinking a McDonald’s strawberry smoothie—and just being so Christie—lit up political Twitter.

The caricature had become more compelling than the candidate.

As Christie takes his ninth place poll numbers and modest $1.4 million war chest to Boulder, Colorado, for the next GOP debate, he will stride over to what is now becoming an unfortunately familiar place: The distant flank of the debate stage, far from the frontrunners. The CNBC debate Oct. 28 provides the chance for a breakout performance that could finally jump-start a Christie comeback teased so many times before.

If not, if Christie continues to be a forgotten second or third choice, he risks becoming this cycle’s clearest example of the old adage that in politics, timing is everything.

In 2011, Henry Kissinger, David Koch and a room full of titans of finance urged Christie over breakfast at the exclusive Racquet & Tennis Club in Manhattan to run for president. The biggest establishment Republican donors in Iowa flew to the governor’s mansion in Princeton to make the same case. Steve Wynn called, Karl Rove came over to the house and former first lady Barbara Bush reassured New Jersey first lady Mary Pat Christie about concerns a candidacy would have on the family.

Meanwhile the media were relentless with speculation—similar to what Vice President Joe Biden experienced this month, but more remarkable, considering the drumbeat was for the governor of the 11th-biggest state in just his second year in office. A farmer in Nebraska FedExed a letter to Christie’s home addressed to the four Christie children: It’s okay if Dad misses your concerts and sporting events, the farmer wrote, because America needs him.

Christie kept insisting he wasn’t going to run. “I threatened to commit suicide—I did!—to convince people I’m not running,” Christie said, displaying the kind of over-the-top personality that made him so appealing in the first place. “Apparently I have to actually commit suicide to convince people I’m not running!”

In September 2011, Christie flew to the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, California, for a speech carried live by the cable networks. A woman stood up and begged him to run: “We can’t wait another four years ’til 2016. And I really implore you to—as a citizen of this country, to please sir, reconsider.... Go home and really think about it. Please! Do it for my daughter, do it for our grandchildren, do it for our sons.... Your country needs you.”

The plea got a standing ovation.

Christie, of course, eventually said no. But he left the door open for 2016.

Well, 2016 is now. And that door is closing.

But not because there wasn’t an appetite for a loudmouth from the New York area.

On a Sunday late this summer, Donald Trump showed up at a golf tournament at the Plainfield Country Club in central New Jersey. He was given a hero’s welcome and a security detail of six local police officers, pulling eyes and iPhone cameras away from the golf tournament with a $1.4 million purse and toward the front-runner for the Republican nomination. They yelled “Mr. president!” and someone shouted, “I hate Rosie O’Donnell, too!” Veteran Star-Ledger sports columnist Steve Politi wrote that the scene was “sheer insanity,” the craziest thing he had ever seen on a golf course. One fan “looked like a teenage girl who turned the corner and ran into the Beatles on a New York City street in 1964.”

Trump pulled Politi with him as he navigated the crowd. At one point, Trump turned to his fans, put his hand on Politi’s shoulder, and shouted: “Make sure he writes well about me—if he doesn’t, kick his ass!”

“Wahoo!” went the crowd.

Trump grinned and moved on.

I watched this video over and over again. I couldn’t believe this was Trump, not Christie. Here was a smack-talking politician from the New York area using a reporter to mine laughs from the crowd—the very thing Christie did so often and so hilariously.

Trump had taken Christie’s moves. And in the heart of New Jersey, no less. A few weeks earlier, Christie was at a horse race in Monmouth County, which he won with 70 percent of the vote in 2013. He was booed mercilessly.

Perhaps no other candidate suffered more from the Rise of Trump than Christie. A Monmouth University Polling Institute survey of New Hampshire voters showed that Christie was one of the most popular second-choice candidates for Trump voters. And a New York Times analysis of a YouGov survey found that from May to August Christie lost 57 percent of his supporters to Trump. That’s a higher percentage than anyone in the field other than Rick Perry, and we all know how his candidacy turned out.

But beyond simply running into The Donald phenomenon, as the other candidates have, Christie entered this year’s race a wounded political animal—one whose reputation had been dramatically recast from a straight-talking, ass-kicking brawler to an ethically questionable bully with a taste for the high life.

Public relations strategists always warn that a reputation takes a lifetime to build and a moment to destroy. For Chris Christie, that critical moment may have been 24 hours more than two years ago, the weekend of his 51st birthday.

The governor of New Jersey woke up early on his birthday, Friday, September 6, 2013, and headed to the empty football field at MetLife Stadium, where his state’s two football teams play. He was there to film an amicable interview for the NFL Network about being the sports-loving governor of New Jersey. He explained how he was a lifelong Dallas Cowboys fan, despite his New Jersey-ness, and he defended Jets Coach Rex Ryan for a recent spat with a reporter. (“When reporters act like jerks, you need to treat them like that back.”)

Back in Trenton, his government communications staff produced a “Happy Birthday Gov!” YouTube compilation of his most memorable put-downs (3 idiots, 5 stupids, 1 dope), interactions with the famous (singing “Thunder Road” with Jimmy Fallon) and out-of-context sound bites (“I look like Tony Soprano, for God's sake!”). The resulting video became yet another way for the YouTube Governor to use deft packaging and mass distribution—Christie’s staff maintained a long-secret email contact list of 2,500 reporters and national TV producers—to showcase his everyman personality to the country.

As the link was clicked and the video flickered on computer screens throughout America, Bob Durando got a phone call. For 35 years Durando worked for the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, the bi-state governmental behemoth that runs the George Washington Bridge, the busiest bridge in the world. Once described as “loving that bridge as if it were his baby,” Durando rose to become general manager. He had never before gotten a call like this.

On the phone was David Wildstein, a former anonymous political blogger now handling backroom political operations for the Christie administration at the Port Authority. Those three local access lanes from the borough of Fort Lee to the bridge, Wildstein told Durando, move some traffic cones to reduce them down to one single-file lane, effective 6 a.m. on Monday morning. Most importantly, Wildstein instructed, do not warn officials in the town of Fort Lee, at the foot of the bridge. This is for a traffic study.

Durando found the request peculiar. Traffic studies require months of planning and approvals. There are official Port Authority traffic study procedures, and they don’t allow for unannounced, intentional disruptions. Traffic studies do not involve moving cones and changing the flow of traffic; they call for cameras and helicopters and computerized counters installed in roadways.

Durando warned Wildstein of “severe traffic consequences.” But Wildstein was the boss. He was known to spy on employees he didn’t like and brag about his connections to the governor, his high school classmate. Christie reportedly had his first beer with Wildstein after a Tom Kean for Governor rally in 1977. Christie officials had created the new position for him at the Port Authority.

With Wildstein calling the shots, Durando directed the maintenance guys to go out and cover the traffic signs in Fort Lee that point to the lanes. And he told the Port Authority Police Department to call in extra officers to handle the inevitable traffic on Monday morning. Everyone had just a weekend to prepare.

The next day, Christie went out of town. His spokespeople didn’t say where he was going, but he popped up Sunday evening in Arlington, Texas, inside the $1.3 billion AT&T Stadium where the Dallas Cowboys were hosting the New York Giants for Sunday Night Football. Christie had long been mocked at home for forsaking both of New Jersey’s football teams, the Jets and Giants (not to mention South Jersey’s team, the Philadelphia Eagles), in order to back one of the most hated teams in sports and an NFC East rival to boot. Christie defended his fandom by explaining that he loved Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach as a kid—how could he not? Besides, keeping it real with his childhood team was further evidence that his whole telling it like it is shtick was authentic.

Not only was Christie at the game, the first of the season, but he was personally invited by none other than Jerry Jones, the famous owner of his favorite team. “I met Jerry Jones on the field in September of ’13, and we’ve been friends ever since,” Christie remembered. He was introduced by Republican fundraiser Ray Washburne, who would one day be the finance chairman of Christie’s presidential campaign (and raise tens of thousands of dollars in donations from the Jones family). Washburne was holding a fundraising event in his luxury suite at the game. For the second half, Christie went to Jones’ suite. Rocking a blue shirt and a sport jacket with American flag New Jersey tie, Christie sat right next to Jones himself.

The governor loved his sports, and on this particularly Sunday night in September the Cowboys beat a turnover-prone Giants team 36-31 after quarterback Tony Romo heroically returned to the field despite a shot to the ribs. This was the Cowboys’ first win against the Giants in their new stadium. Childhood dreams met political aspirations that night in Dallas.

Can life as Chris Christie get any better than this?

Monday morning roll call began for the Port Authority Police officers who handle traffic at the George Washington Bridge. There is a new traffic pattern, the commanding officer said, for some sort of a traffic study. The cones that normally separate out three toll booths have been moved. There will be one lane. Regardless of what happens, he said, “Do not move the cones.”

At 6 a.m. sharp, the traffic study began.

The results were almost immediately chaotic.

New kindergarteners who dreamed of their first trips on the big yellow buses squirmed around, stuck in traffic on their first day of school. The newly employed were late to first days of work. Taxi drivers lost a day of wages. There was slamming on brakes and horns. People were bored, thirsty and desperately needing to go to the bathroom. They worried about running out of gas and getting home to take their medication. They had kids to drop off and pets to feed and elderly parents to care for.

The 911 call center was inundated with calls. An elderly woman at a nursing home fell and cut her face; after more than an hour the medics had not shown up. It took an EMS crew seven minutes to arrive at the scene of a cardiac arrest, three minutes longer than normal. To get to a car accident with injuries, an ambulance driver evaded traffic by hopping a curb. Another first responder gave up and literally ran over to an emergency scene.

Christie woke up in Texas, well beyond the range of 1010 WINS radio buzzing with news of the traffic queue to the George Washington Bridge. He headed to fundraisers for Republicans in Dallas, San Antonio and finally, Houston, at a mansion owned by a Texas oilman who the previous year had given $1 million to Mitt Romney’s presidential run. There were hands to be shaken and business cards to be collected; Christie’s 2016 presidential run would be here soon enough.

Christie had to get past other things first—a reelection coming up, a struggling New Jersey economy, an incomplete recovery from Superstorm Sandy just 11 months earlier. But after spurning the GOP for 2012, he was coveted more than ever for 2016. The conventional wisdom was that Jeb Bush wasn’t interested, and Donald Trump wasn’t serious.

Christie’s timing seemed excellent. That November, he trounced his Democratic opponent in the election by 22 points, securing a startling 51 percent of the Hispanic vote, 57 percent of women and two-thirds of independent voters. Christie seemed the conqueror, riding his popularity as one of the nation’s most popular Republicans.

Bobby Jindal’s timing, meanwhile, was bad—and getting worse. Two weeks after his reelection win, Christie was at a luxury resort in Scottsdale, Arizona, completing an end-run around the one-time boy-wonder-turned-Louisiana-governor to become chairman of the Republican Governors Association. Christie planned to use that perch to take private jets to three dozen states over the next 12 months to raise and distribute $100 million while collecting IOUs as a loyal GOP soldier. He directed some RGA money to bring aboard as a consultant his presidential campaign manager-in waiting, Bill Stepien, who had successfully guided both of his gubernatorial campaigns.

The 2016 race started right then. Polls showed him leading the GOP field and statistically tied with Hillary Clinton. Surely, this was enough to scare away potential challengers. But that’s not how things turned out.

In January, four months after that Sunday night game in Texas, Democrats revealed an email they had subpoenaed as part of their investigation into the mysterious lane closures at the George Washington Bridge. In the email Christie’s deputy chief of staff tells Wildstein: “Time for some traffic problems in Fort Lee.” There were plenty of other emails, too, including the mayor of Fort Lee sounding the alarm about a public safety emergency while the lanes were closed and begging Christie officials to reverse course. Up the chain, documents showed, Christie appointees ignored the mayor’s pleas.

We later learned that several people in Christie’s inner circle knew that something was amiss about the so-called traffic study. Federal prosecutors now say that it was used as a cover story for a traffic jam that was intended to punish the mayor of Fort Lee. The mayor’s offense? Not endorsing Christie’s reelection.

The ramifications within Christie world were severe. Wildstein has since pleaded guilty and is expected to testify against his former boss, Bill Baroni, the top Christie staff appointee at the Port Authority, and Bridget Anne Kelly, the former Christie deputy chief of staff who wrote the “traffic problems” email. Baroni and Kelly face prison time. The federal trial is scheduled to begin in March.

Stepien, the Christie political adviser who led both of the gubernatorial campaigns and was expected to lead a presidential campaign, was ousted by Christie because his name showed up in some subpoenaed emails. He has not been linked to the lane closures, but his absence from the Christie braintrust has left the governor without a key emissary to home-state Republicans. Christie’s standing with the New Jersey GOP has collapsed, with most Republican legislators not even contributing to his presidential campaign.

Christie has repeatedly said he knew nothing about this scheme. He had no interest in the mayor’s endorsement, he said, and would never authorize people to do something as boneheaded as this on his behalf.

His claims of innocence did nothing, however, to quell relentless media coverage about the incident for months. New documents kept being released—phone logs, emails, assorted conversations among his top staff—his dirty laundry, slowly put through the wash, one stinky sock at a time. All of this wasn’t necessarily illegal, but a bunch of it revealed embarrassing political scheming under the cover of a publicly funded government operation, topped with dramatic messages from staffers (“I could claw his eyes out, pour gasoline in the sockets and light him up.”) Their inner workings, distilled into head-shaking chyrons under Rachel Maddow every night. A staffer told me it was “violating to have it laid bare.”

The daily newspaper stories and nightly MSNBC segments about the Bridgegate documents and the subsequent legislative hearings forced Christie virtually underground, largely relegated to safe interviews on sports talk radio instead of the kind of news-making, freewheeling news conferences in New Jersey that used to create so many of his YouTube-ready moments. When he finally emerged he seemed angrier at the media and personally wounded from the negative attention. After years on offense, he was now playing defense.

And he was suddenly toxic in some GOP circles. He went to Illinois to raise money for the RGA and three of the four Republicans running in the gubernatorial primary found reasons not to appear publicly with him. The location of a Florida fundraiser that Christie sponsored was withheld to avoid media attention, and when word leaked out anyway that it was at the oceanfront home of Home Depot founder Ken Langone, reporters arrived to find a police K-9 unit blocking their way.

When the SuperBowl came to New Jersey that February, the NFL held a pep rally in Times Square and the celebrity governor from across the river was booed more than ever before. “We hate traffic!” someone yelled.

Bridgegate convinced some donors that he wasn’t electable and some politicians that he was beatable. He went on to have a successful year as RGA chairman—raising record amounts of money and winning unexpected races for Republicans, like in Maryland—but shortly after that stint Jeb Bush made moves to get into the presidential race. This shocked Christie. Bush sucked up much of the donor class money that Christie expected to get—their national networks were similar. Even New Jersey Republicans, most notably his ex-BFF in the Legislature, state Sen. Joseph Kyrillos, defected to Bush. Then all of these other candidates got in the race, to the point where they no longer can fit on a single stage.

But that’s just part of the story. In interviews around the country with conservative activists and Republican voters, Bridgegate does not come up. Bridgegate might be a national punch line, “time for some traffic problems in Fort Lee” a Washington insider’s one-liner akin to “Monica’s dress,” but it alone didn’t transform the perception of Christie. In fact, if there’s a scandal the GOP base wants to talk about regarding Christie, it’s more often than not his alleged “hug” with President Barack Obama after Superstorm Sandy. As Fox News’ Greta Van Susteren finally admitted, this was an earnest handshake during a time of immense tragedy. Maybe this was a bro-hug. But nothing more.

Yet even after Bridgegate and the faux hug, Christie’s star still shined. He was the top potential Republican presidential contender as late as September 2014, according to a RealClearPolitics average of polls. In November 2014, The New York Times Magazine even put an image of the governor on the cover and declared “Chris Christie Is Back.”

He may have been back, but not for long. And that’s in part because the famous Cowboys owner he met on the fateful weekend of his 51st birthday had now made Christie his good luck charm. This was part of the improbable fallout from Christie’s 51st birthday weekend in Texas.

In December 2014, cameras caught Christie watching the Eagles play his Dallas Cowboys. He was in a luxury box with Jones again, this time wearing an orange sweater and with reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. After a big play Christie clasped hands with Jones. As the Cowboys rallied for a win, the fans seated below him grew increasingly uneasy. This being Philadelphia—a crazy sports town with a whole lot of New Jersey residents supporting the city’s teams—the vitriol got particularly intense. “Fuck you, Christie!” they yelled. “You’re a traitor!” Philadelphia Councilman Jim Kenney, slated to be the next mayor of the city, took to Twitter to call Christie “fat assed.”

Christie ended up dialing into the local Philadelphia sports radio station, WIP, where he spun the whole thing with a populist frankness that came off as real and regular: “I am just another fan … Guys, I am who I am ... The one thing I’m not is a phony.”

But then there was another game. And another. He went to five games that season. He wore that orange baby boomer sweater each time, for luck. “He’s part of our mojo,” Jones said. “I want him there all the way. I’ll tell you, if he’s got enough mojo to pull this thing out, he ought to be looked at as president of the United States.”

Christie’s political mojo ran dry on another Sunday night game in Texas. This was a playoff game against the Detroit Lions. About 40 million people were watching at home, and Christie and Jones were back in their same spot, in Jones’ box.

The Cowboys were down by two touchdowns when Romo once again led the way back, throwing a touchdown pass late in the fourth quarter for a thrilling 24-20 victory and the team’s first playoff win in five years. After that last touchdown, Christie tried to high-five Jones, but he missed. He tried to hug Jones, but seemed to get rebuffed. Either there was too much excitement in the box or everyone was just on the wrong side of 50 to look good dancing around, but something went wrong. See for yourself if you haven’t already.

On the one hand, the governor looked like a genuine person enjoying his favorite team’s biggest victory in five years. On the other hand, Twitter disagreed, sending his name trending from coast to coast. Memes were created and reporters analyzed the incident. It is difficult to say what bothered people so much. Was it Jones, one of the most hated owners in sports? Was it Christie, who was supposed to be the lunchpail-carrying everyman, now hanging out with No. 94 on the Forbes 400 list, that undermined the Christie populist persona? Was it just enough already with the sweaters and the high-fiving and luxury boxes?

Whatever it was, Ronald Reagan it was not.

The story didn’t end there, unfortunately for Christie. The Wall Street Journal soon revealed that Jones was part of an ownership group selected by Christie and New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo appointees to operate the new observation deck at One World Trade Center, the Freedom Tower, at Ground Zero in New York. The building is owned by the same agency at the center of Bridgegate, the Port Authority.

Questions were raised about whether Christie getting pricey football tickets from a public contractor. Christie said Jones became a friend after the contract was awarded, and so he could accept thousands of dollars in tickets—plus a flight to one game.

Christie avoided further scrutiny. A Christie appointee running the state Ethics Commission, which was asked to investigate the matter, defended the trips by saying the governor “sort of went as a personal thing.” And an Advisory Ethics Panel created by a Christie executive order that could have sorted out such gray areas had effectively been disbanded by Christie after he appointed both members to other jobs. One member became chairman of the Port Authority.

Rush Limbaugh, radio’s arbiter of conservative priorities, spent two days harping on Christie’s Cowboys trips and his “man-hug” with Jones—and in the process managed to remind his extended conservative audience about how Christie “side-hugged” Obama, “loves” to hang out with celebrities and, through the Port Authority, gave a massive concession contract to Jones’ company.

“If Christie can close bridge lanes,” Limbaugh said, “he has influence on this concession here at the top of the Freedom Tower. So it all finally comes together.

It’s not an ethical violation, Limbaugh assured his audience. “Voters, their perception, that may be another thing,” he said.

Sure enough, that month Christie’s presidential poll numbers began to drop. His advisers believe this was because Bush got into the race the previous month. But as Bush has since stumbled, Christie hasn’t recovered.

What if, we may wonder now, Christie stayed home for his birthday weekend and never met Jones? What if—and we take Christie’s word here that he had nothing to do with Bridgegate—he heard the traffic reports on the way to his day job at the State-house that Monday morning and called his aides to ask what was going on? What if he found out that a local mayor was crowing about a public safety emergency and he canceled the whole “traffic study” operation right then and there so the nightmare didn’t go on for five days in a row?

Christie’s allies say that the secret conspiracy to close the lanes would’ve remained secret whether or not he was in Texas while it went down. But in the months between the lane closures and the day the conspiracy was revealed in the famous “time for some traffic problems” email, top staffers did little to find out what happened. Some aides were distracted, sources said, preparing to move on to new positions within the administration or join the political operation to help Christie’s presidential run.

While he was away that 51st birthday weekend, Christie dispatched his lieutenant governor to handle various New Jersey duties. She visited an Elks picnic, attended a beach party for autistic children and presented burnt steel from Ground Zero to a town on the Jersey Shore as part of a Christie program to distribute September 11th artifacts to local politicians. That’s probably the kind of weekend Christie would have had if he had stayed closer to home.

Watching your childhood heroes with the team owner and meeting potential presidential donors sounds more fun. As he once told the New York Times: “I try to squeeze all the juice out of the orange that I can.” Sources inside the Statehouse, even those allied with the governor, say he started to do more squeezing of that orange by the end of the first term—enjoying the perks of national prominence and celebrity, making famous friends and vacationing, gratis, with the king of Jordan. He had been wooed for the presidency, gained bipartisan praise for his leadership after Superstorm Sandy and grown, sources said, less interested in New Jersey.

Since his reelection he has spent all or part of 44 percent of his days out of New Jersey. Currently there are more than 70 pieces of legislation sitting on his desk back in Trenton, waiting to be signed or vetoed, and insiders are groaning that gubernatorial appointments are stuck in limbo. The state Supreme Court has an acting justice, and likely will for the remainder of his term, because of an impasse with the Democratic Legislature. Negotiations on the two biggest issues facing the state, funding for road repairs and public employee pension reform, are stalled.

The shift away from gritty, unforgiving governing of New Jersey was gradual. But it was marked most significantly by how while he was fundraising with Texans, back home in New Jersey a man named Wildstein was setting a fuse that would soon light his house on fire.

Christie has since accepted responsibility for Bridgegate happening on his watch. His advisers don’t believe it had anything to do with him being distracted by the famous in sports or the powerful in politics, or reaching for a new job before the first one was finished, or spitting in the faces of the political gods by raising money for the Republican National Committee in Texas during his own reelection campaign in New Jersey.

But for a few voters, Bridgegate is everything. Several months ago a former New Jerseyan named Eileen Sahagian stood up at a town hall meeting in New Hampshire and laid into the governor: “When I heard about the bridge scandal, I was beyond horrified. I still think about it and feel for the people of Fort Lee. You have said that you knew nothing about it, and I have to accept that out of respect. However, people with whom you work very closely somehow got the idea that that was OK. And, I’m worried about having a president who has people around him who think that that’s OK. I feel like the people of Fort Lee were the sacrificial lambs. It reminds me of feudal times—I’m furious. Feudal times when the king would say, ‘Who cares about the peasants?’”

Christie responded passionately and defensively for several minutes. “It has been a painful process. Painful. And so I have previously said I was sorry for what happened because it happened on my watch, and I have to be accountable for it. But being accountable and being responsible are two different things. ... And so I’m not proud or happy of what happened, but I’m going to stop apologizing for it, too. ... We’ve done everything that we can and I’m moving on from it now.”

Once indictments were handed down last May Christie was freed up to move on as best as he could. He officially announced his long-expected candidacy back in the gym at his old high school in Livingston, New Jersey.

But at that point we were in the Summer of Trump, and the free-talking New Jersey governor felt like yesterday’s news.

In feigned desperation on Fox News one night, he said to Megyn Kelly: “Christie is good for ratings!” He even did a Trump impression. “How’d I do?” he asked.

On the two-year anniversary of the fateful day Christie met Jerry Jones at Sunday night football, September 8 of this year, United Airlines announced that its CEO was resigning.

Christie’s confidant and mentor, former Port Authority Chairman David Samson—implicated by the press but not charged in the Bridgegate scandal—had reportedly gotten a special Chairman’s Flight from United Airlines. The flight went from Newark Liberty International Airport to Columbia, South Carolina, where Samson has a weekend home. It left on Thursdays and returned on Mondays. The flight was created just as United was negotiating with Samson over matters like lower fees at the airport, which is operated by the Port Authority, and a new train on Port Authority’s PATH line.

Three days after Samson resigned in the wake of Bridgegate, the flight route—a money loser for United—was canceled.

The investigation into the “Chairman’s Flight,” which stemmed from the Bridgegate probe, has now prompted not only the resignation of United’s CEO but two other executives. Christie’s transportation commissioner, who was United’s lobbyist when the deal went down, resigned last month.

Having spent much of 2015 rehabilitating his image and tacking right to appeal to more conservatives, Christie envisions a comeback—a real one, this time. His favorability rating in a recent Quinnipiac Poll is 59 percent, his highest ever in that survey, which he believes is a precursor to real support closer to Election Day.

But in the mean time the New Jersey press corps is waiting to find out if the Chairman’s Flight yields criminal charges. Can Christie survive another Port Authority-related indictment landing right next to him?

Advisers say they don’t pine for 2012, and neither does Christie. He wasn’t ready to be president then, so he has no regrets. And while the end of the CNBC debate stage is not an enviable position, Christie’s strategists believe his timing is just right.

After all Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker was an early front-runner—only to drop out before the summer was over because he wasn’t spending money as frugally as Christie has. Carly Fiorina got media buzz off of her debate performances, but her poll numbers have since lagged. Bush was the presumptive favorite, but despite all that cash he has had difficulty answering questions. Now, it may be Florida Sen. Marco Rubio’s time to boom. That’s fine, Christie advisers say. Let’s see what happens when he faces the same Acela corridor media market that the governor has endured for the past 14 years, since he was appointed U.S. attorney for New Jersey. He’s already boomed, busted—and survived.

As Christie tells it, after his 22-point victory in 2013, “they” came after him. He doesn’t define “they,” but he means a loose collection of opponents—the Democratic party, the media and the “partisan” U.S. Attorney, Paul Fishman, an Obama appointee who succeeded Christie in the job. At a town hall meeting in Iowa on Wednesday, Christie said that after his big reelection win “they said, ‘Hell man, we don’t want any piece of this guy. Let’s kill him now.’” That’s how he explains away Bridgegate to conservative crowds.

Christie, even in his private moments, tells people he believes now is his time. He has offered some of the most detailed policy proposals in the field and visited New Hampshire more often than anyone, demonstrating that he’s still “the best retail politician of our time,” according to pollster Frank Luntz. He is usually within the margin of error of everyone in the second tier of candidates.

And for better or for worse, he hasn’t changed with the times. Just like the secret trip he made to Dallas in 2013, Christie went to Wrigley Field last week to see his Mets beat the Cubs in Game 3 of the National League Championship Series. It was the fifth playoff game he’d seen so far this year, squeezing that orange in the middle of a presidential campaign while managing the state of New Jersey. The trip wasn’t announced on his public schedules, and his staff wouldn’t say who paid for the tickets and the flight. He wore the orange sweater.

Cameras at Mets playoff games have caught him calm and collected during the team’s improbable, sudden success. This time, he’s left the dancing to his wife, Mary Pat.