Somebody’s Got to Do That Tough Job

TO: The Boss

FROM: Your Lowly Scribe

I am writing today to request assignment to cover the total solar eclipse on July 11, 1991. Unfortunately, the eclipse is expected to be seen best from the Hawaiian island of Maui.

Much as I hate to ruin my summer vacation plans by flying off to Maui (we did have reservations for Detroit), I feel it is important to get the best possible view of the eclipse. While they tell me Motown is lovely in July, I have a job to do.

I am writing now, a full two years in advance, to indicate my commitment to this project. Also, because I anticipate others on the staff unconcerned with significant cultural issues will make frivolous requests for this assignment. Also, because they’re saying you’ll need a reservation at least a year in advance because they’re expecting a big party crowd.

I will not be there to party. I will be there to get the kind of nitty-gritty, what’s-it-all-about-Alfie story that an event of this magnitude demands. I think this solar eclipse bit will blow that harmonic convergence thing out of the water.

I know you will want my esteemed colleague from the science desk to cover this event from a technical point of view. But, as we know, any jerk with a BA from Utah can do science. Frankly, I think the public is getting a little sick of all these white coats holding highball glasses with swizzle sticks showing off that new cocktail, the Fusion Confusion.

Sure, send one of the science jocks to cover the boring stuff. I will be out there with the people looking at the more profound aspects of astronomy as seen from an island paradise.

I’ve been looking at brochures, Boss. I’ve been doing my homework. Think about the headlines! “The Day the Lights Went Out in the Loakelani Room in the Maui Marriott: An Insider’s View.”

While someone reports on how to make a peephole mask for viewing the eclipse, I will be looking at the cultural effects of “Surfin’ and Snorklin’ With a Duracell Beam Near the Wailea Beach Resort.”

I certainly want to look into the anthropological significance of this event on the native peoples. “Maui: What Ruined It--the Tourists, the Marijuana Farmers or the Journalists?”

I know you will suggest that I ought to cover this from a unique (i.e., low-budget) perspective. “The Solar Eclipse as Seen From the Inner City.” Or, “The Eclipse: What’s in It for the Homeless?” Or, “The Eclipse and a Day in the Life of a Crack Dealer.”

Come on, Boss. This event is supposed to be an upper. Something to remind us of a power greater than ourselves. Like a half-acre pool with 60 waterfalls at the Hyatt Regency.

I could be there, Boss, watching as darkness falls on the waterfalls. I could be out there getting the scoop on the psycho-social effects of this monumental phenomenon. Sure, a fleet of effete journalists will be sitting at the bar watching the whole thing on TV. Not me. When that big beacon in the sky fades to black, I’ll be mingling with the crowds asking the important question: Who grabbed me?

I know you had your reasons for denying my requests to cover the Democratic convention and the Super Bowl and the World Series. And as I watched reporters fighting for air in Atlanta and shivering in Chicago and dodging bullets in Miami, I never once questioned your wisdom.

Note the date on this request, Boss. Don’t tell me some facts-slave on the city desk has dibsies.

Who? Me. What? Eclipse. Where? Hana coast. When? Summer of ’91.

Why? I’d hate to see that mornin’ sun go down without adequate coverage. This is worth big play, Boss.