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Michael Moore ::
My 15-year-old son gave me Michael Moore’s book Stupid White Men ...and other Sorry Excuses for the State of the Nation for Christmas. I’d put it on my to-read list recently, and had been surprised when my ex told me that my son had been interested enough in Michael Moore to go hear him speak in Ithaca this summer, long before I saw Bowling for Columbine and then posters for Michael Moore Takes on George W. Bush in London in November.
I began reading Stupid White Men while waiting for a Northwest connection in Detroit this morning and was amused at a reference, in the introduction, to the unlikelihood of making a connection through Detroit on Northwest on a sunny day.
Perhaps half an hour later, there was an airport announcement telling Michael Moore to obtain a gate pass, to meet an unaccompanied minor. He did grow up in Michigan, so it wasn’t unconceivable that it was THE Michael Moore being paged. I contemplated traversing the entire length of the new terminal (complete with trees, real live birds, and a water display which... spurts) just to see if it was him and say hello, but I decided I didn’t want take advantage of his having a possible Interesting Airport Experience to bug him. Besides, it was getting close to boarding time, and I wanted to make my connection.
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