I once spent a morning sitting with David Gelernter at Reagan National Airport in Washington—several hours waiting for the fog to lift and the shuttles to start flying again. I had edited him, met him at a few get-togethers, chatted with him over the phone, but never really spent time with him before.
If you care about M. Night Shyamalan’s movies and hope to avoid having his latest film spoiled for you—and its twist will be spoiled for you on Twitter or Facebook or somewhere else; it’s too good not to share—then you have to see Split on its opening weekend. In fact, you should leave work or home or wherever you are and hit up a multiplex now.
Some very good news for this column: Yesterday I was finally able to pick up my credential for the inauguration that I am supposed to be covering tomorrow. I still have no idea how I’m going to be able to get into the city, or how I will possibly be able to leave it in the wee hours on Saturday morning. But yesterday was busy enough without worrying about that just yet.
This is the first in a series of inauguration week dispatches. My coverage of Cleveland, Philadelphia, and the debates last year speak for themselves, and I hope to continue that winning streak during what will probably be the second worst week of my adult life.
I say “second worst” because the worst was last week, when I got Norovirus from spinach purchased at Safeway, which serves me right, I guess, for trying to be healthy. Most of the days thereafter were a blur, but I remember that Monday was fairly normal: I came in to the office just in time for my staff meeting, drank a few Budweisers from a glass at China Garden, and read Roald Dahl.