COLUMN: Only in your dreams

From J. Christopher Robbins', "Don't Tread on Me," Fall '96 From J. Christopher Robbins', "Don't Tread on Me," Fall '96After the ENIAC 50th anniversaryFrom J. Christopher Robbins', "Don't Tread on Me," Fall '96After the ENIAC 50th anniversarycelebration, one student got an insider'sFrom J. Christopher Robbins', "Don't Tread on Me," Fall '96After the ENIAC 50th anniversarycelebration, one student got an insider'sview of the nation's capital? or did he? From J. Christopher Robbins', "Don't Tread on Me," Fall '96After the ENIAC 50th anniversarycelebration, one student got an insider'sview of the nation's capital? or did he? Preface: Following Al Gore's speech at the ENIAC anniversary celebration, one member of the student press was invited to spend the day with the vice president. News and Public Affairs Director Barbara Beck chose Adam Mark, executive editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian, to join the vice president aboard Air Force Two and have dinner with Tipper and the Veep at the White House. What follows is Robbins's account of the experience. Al Gore is no ordinary vice president. He embodies the spirit of our nation's capital and is a striking example of what a Washington politician can do. Two weeks ago, I had the great honor of meeting and traveling to Washington with our vice president. We met immediately after the ENIAC festivities ended. In the vice president's limo, Gore began speaking to me about the importance of fair journalism in a democracy. The press, he said, is "the fourth branch of government." "You once were a reporter, weren't you?" I asked him. After graduating from Harvard with a degree in government, Gore said he'd spent a few years on a small Tennessee newspaper covering county fairs, mutant barnyard animals and horse thievery. The conversation took on a more candid tone once we boarded Air Force Two. Gore found his favorite reclining seat and motioned for me to sit next to him. "You know, that President Rodin of yours is a good-looking broad," Gore confided. As the plane took off we both turned our attention to the runway and the scenery flying by. With a recently purchased copy of Earth In The Balance tucked away in the attache by my feet, I decided the timing was prime to show off my knowledge of Gore's environmental policies. Feeling gutsy, I started with a critical question. "Mr. Vice President--" I started to say as he quickly interrupted. "Call me Al," he said. "Al," I began again, "according to your book Earth in The Balance, jets like the one we're on get half a mile to the gallon. Wouldn't it be better for the ozone layer if we drove instead?" "Environmental politics is mostly hocus-pocus," said Gore. He leaned toward me and whispered: "The bald spot on the back of my head is bigger than the hole in the ozone layer." The flight was swift. We traveled 125 miles in 18 minutes, which was time enough for the vice president to happily consume three mini-bottles of Jack Daniels, his favorite Tennessee whiskey. "Tipper and I used to get wasted on this stuff in high school," said Gore as we landed at Andrews Air Force Base. "That's right," I remembered, "you and your wife were high school sweethearts." Always curious, I asked how "Tipper" got her nickname. "Honestly, I wasn't in on that," he answered, "She got that name after spending an evening with the high school football team back in Carthage." Gore paused for a moment, smirked, and added: "She won't tell me what it means." "Tipper has a mystique about her," he explained before mentioning his wife's famous words to The Washington Post after Frank Zappa, Madonna, (the artist formerly known as) Prince and John Denver called her a puritan. I took the opportunity to ask about Zappa's most biting public comment. "Why did Zappa call you and your wife 'cultural terrorists?' " I asked. "It had nothing to do with politics," Gore said. "He was just upset when I told him I didn't like his song, 'Why Does it Hurt When I Pee.' " Another limo awaited as the plane taxied to a stop. "This door-to-door service is great," I said. "Thank God," Gore replied, "I'm a lousy motorist." On the drive into Washington, Gore grew markedly drowsy. His attention began to wander as the long day took its toll. I pressed on with my questions anyway. "Let's talk about your political views," I said. "In 1984, you went on record supporting organ donations." Gore glanced up at me, attempting to focus. "Yeah, sure, and pianos too," he said. "How about euthanasia?" I asked. The vice president quickly perked up and said: "They are true, living examples of what good, solid educational systems can produce." As the limo entered the city, Gore grabbed my hand and pointed out the window to a statue in the middle of a traffic circle. "I always feel great pride when I see Jefferson up there on that horse in all his glory." "But that's General Washington," I said. "Oh, yes. I didn't see the wooden tooth." "That's a bronze statue, sir." "Yeah. Right," he said. We pulled up to the White House at a quarter past five o'clock. According to the agenda, dinner was to be served at six. But my hopes of dinner at the White House were soon dashed. Gore's presence was demanded by the Tallow and Whale Product Producers Association. Moral compulsion and politics demanded that he go. "I'll put those bastards in their place," he said. Clutching my hand supportively, he wished me well. "Journalism is a great career," he said. "Keep it up." He also told me to send my regards to "that babe Judith." As Gore's limo rushed me back to Union Station, I thought: What a man.