Chasing Those Y2K Thrills

Y2K is creeping up on us.

Early next week, we will hit the 200-days-and-counting mark to the year 2000.

I won’t say “turn of the century,” because every time I do, 25 to 50 irate readers tongue-lash me. A century doesn’t turn until it’s the end of ‘00, not the end of ‘99, they say. They always act as if I have just said 2 + 2 = 5, or spelled “potato” with an e.

Therefore, let’s just say that the 1900s are lame ducks. Will that do?

(Now I’ll probably get letters from angry duck lovers.)

I have made no plans for Dec. 31, 1999, which is a Friday, which means New Century Eve traffic should really be terrible.

(OK, OK . . . so I used the word “century” again. Sue me.)

Hotels have been booked hard. I guess the first thing many people want to do in the year 2000 is not have to make a bed.

Flights are pretty full too. At 12:01 a.m., passengers will be permitted to hold hands and share stories about their first airplane rides back in the 1900s and how much cigarette smoke they had to swallow.

Cruises are also quite popular for Y2K fun. Young couples in particular can’t wait to get out there on the high seas for a week or a month, so they can eat six meals a day between shuffleboard games and mambo lessons.

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I can’t decide where I want to wake up on 1/1/00.

Should I travel to the other side of the world, climb to the top of a mountain and warm myself in the first 2000 sunrise, like a caveman in Y2,000,000K BC, discovering fire?

Should I mark 2000 by visiting a holy place and getting in touch with my spiritual side, perhaps Bethlehem or Nazareth or one of those other fine cities in Pennsylvania?

Or should I leap into the future, maybe go pay a visit to the Tomorrowland section of Disneyland just to see if it’s already beginning to look as out of date as Frontierland?

What to do, what to do. . . .

In need of an inspiration, I turned to a popular magazine named Men’s Journal and its current issue because of an article called “94 Inspired Ideas to Take Life to Another Level.”

The article is actually about summer and the 94 days thereof, but since I need a Y2K inspiration sooner rather than later, I got to thinking there might be an idea in there that could last me all the way to the end of the millennium and beyond.

After all, I just can’t bring myself to spend the last days of the 1900s the way so many American men spent the last days of the 1400s, 1500s, 1600s, 1700s and 1800s--sitting in chairs while women ask us, “Don’t you ever want to get off your rear end and go do something?”

So I’ve begun scanning the magazine article for ideas.

A professional tornado chaser recommends going to Oklahoma and other plains states to see a terrible twister close up.

Nah. I don’t feel like seeing a cow fly.

A zoologist suggests a visit to the Chang Tang plateau in Tibet, 15,000 feet high, to see herds of “wild yak, asses and antelopes.”

Nah. Been there, done that.

A conservationist says I should volunteer to help preserve a piece of land, such as a rain forest.

Nah. I never have any fun in rain forests. I like the dry ones better.

A deep-sea diver says for $35,000, I can dive to 12,500 feet in a Russian submersible and see the remains of the Titanic.

Nah. If I need to see the Titanic, I can drive 12,500 feet to my local Blockbuster.

An author advises a tour of Tuscany, to see “fields of blooming sunflowers and several wonderful vineyards.”

Nah. This really is a summer thing. In winter, I hear Tuscany looks like Oklahoma.

A baseball executive proposes a whirlwind tour of minor-league parks, including one where “a pig named Tobias carries balls to the umpire.”

Nah. Also a summer thing. Besides, I had enough of pigs in baseball when the major-leaguers went on strike for more money.

A distinguished military figure--Colin Powell, no less--recommends taking the time to become a mentor to a younger person, someone who needs “a consistent role model, advocate, listener and guide.”

Nah. Sorry, general, but I’m not the kind of guy who can be a role model. I’m the kind of guy who needs one.

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Well, I’m running out of excuses.

One magazine contributor suggests fly-fishing. (I’d rather catch fish.) Another, visiting a ranch to rope and brand calves. (I’d probably miss and brand myself.) Another, raising tomatoes. (I’m never sure where to plant the trees.) Another, skinny-dipping in a pond. (No, I wouldn’t want to scare the frogs.)

I give up.

Y2K is on its way, but I still don’t know what 2 do or Y.

There must be something a person can do on the last day of the 1900s. Maybe I’ll reconsider that trip to Tibet to see the wild yak.

Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to him at Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles CA 90053. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com.