Show me a person who can kill time, I have always said, and I`ll show you a person who can kill anything.
I am not sure exactly what that means, but I am terrific at killing time. Most reporters are. I estimate that by the time I`m 40, I will have spent 39 years of my life waiting for people to return phone calls.
So when I learned the other morning that my flight to Cleveland was going to be 12 hours late, I took it pretty well. I fell to the floor, beat my fists against the ground and threatened to hold my breath until I died.
The Piedmont ticket agent was very understanding.
”The flight is not actually 12 hours late,” she said, ”you are just 12 hours early.”
I was booked on Flight 58 leaving at 8:43 bound for Cleveland. I had to get to Cleveland early so I could hear eight Democrats tell me why they should become the leader of the free world.
As my mother often points out, I could have become a dentist.
What do you mean I`m 12 hours early? I said. The flight leaves at 8:43. It is now 8:15. Where`s the plane?
”But the flight is at 8:43 p.m.,” the agent said. ”Not 8:43 a.m.”
Boy, was my face red. But Piedmont was very understanding. Apparently they are used to dealing with idiots. I was told there was a flight to Cleveland in four hours.
Some people would be intimidated by having to kill four hours at an airport. But not me. The secret is: Pace yourself.
The first thing I did was sit down in the big waiting room, take one shoe off and readjust my sock.
I never would have made time for this if I hadn`t had four hours to kill. I would have left that sock bunched up in there all day. I was feeling better already.
After I readjusted my sock, I looked at my watch. And I still had four hours to kill. I couldn`t believe it. Apparently readjusting your sock defies the laws of physics in that it uses up no time whatsoever. I wonder if Einstein knew about this.
So I walked to the gift shop and bought a New York Times. The Times has so much news in it, I normally never have time to read the stories all the way to the end. So I started reading a whole bunch of stories all the way to the end and I discovered a really terrific last paragraph.
This was the last paragraph of a story on Page A7:
”Mr. Marlin Fitzwater, White House spokesman, said today that four criteria were now being used to determine whether a covert operation should proceed: Is it legal? Has Congress been informed? Does it support United States policy? And if it becomes public knowledge, will it be acceptable to the American people?”
This kind of made me wonder what the criteria used to be. I guess they were: Is it fun? Will it cost a lot? Are girls involved? Can we all lie about it later?
I thought this one last paragraph made the cost of the paper worth it and I pledged to read more stories all the way to the end the next time I had four hours to kill in an airport.
I looked at my watch. Three hours to go. So I did some other stuff I usually don`t have time for:
I re-examined my life to determine if it was empty and without meaning. But I put off any final decision.
I checked the contents of my wallet and made two piles: one pile of stuff to save and one pile of stuff to throw out. Then I put both piles back into my wallet.
I walked over to the Piedmont gate and sat down. I noticed the gate area had big ashtrays in the nonsmoking sections. I consider this muddled thinking an example of what is wrong with America today.
But I am not knocking Piedmont. I like Piedmont. They give you the entire can of Coke on the plane instead of just one plastic cupful.
I checked my ticket and figured out that I was going to get an entire can of Coke for only $172.50. You can`t beat that.
After a brief period during which I fell into a coma, I boarded the plane and flew to Cleveland. When I landed, I didn`t jump up like everybody else. I sauntered. I figure if you`re going to be late for something, you might as well be really late.
I got downtown at 2:10 p.m. and went to the press room at the Cleveland Convention Center.
”Boy, are you lucky,” a guy there said. ”There`s been a big delay and things are just starting. You won`t miss a word of Dick Gephardt.”
Damn, I said. Some days nothing goes right.
