I’m now sitting in the Rochester International Airport. Since I went directly from my show to the airport, I’m way early and still have an hour to blow. The Rochester Airport isn’t big enough for a Delta lounge, but I found a nice sunny spot in the central court to set up my computer and get some work done.
There’s just one problem: This spot was nice and quiet, until I got comfortable and booted up my computer. Unbeknownst to me, right next to my table is a giant, possessed clock that looks like a cross between a carousel and a chandelier. Every few minutes, it comes alive and rotates while playing loud bagpipe music.
So my choices are: put up with the music, move from my comfy spot, or murder the clock. I truly think I’d be justified in killing the clock. One blow to its center with a chair or a trash can should do it. And what jury wouldn’t let me off for temporary insanity? All my lawyer would need to do is pipe the bagpipe music into the jury deliberation room.
Unfortunately, a security officer is watching me closely. I can’t tell if he’s ready to jump in front of my projectile—and take one for the clock—or if he too is considering a move to kill time.