Tonight I'm flying to Minas Gerais for five days, but just because I will be out of the country this weekend doesn't mean I'm going to shrink from my responsibilities as an American. The following story can be read now or saved till Sunday.
In 1999 the Super Bowl returned to South Florida, and the sports editor asked me to write some color stories for the Sun-Sentinel. I was given a pass that didn't entitle me to a seat but allowed me to wander around the stadium.
In the press tent before the game I wrote my first story on a laptop. Dave Barry sat three tables over, and I remember watching him, as I searched for words, typing without pause. He had no notes, and he kept his eyes on the screen as his fingers danced atop the keyboard. I wondered what he was writing and concluded that it was probably his next book, while his wife, a sports writer for the Herald, covered the game.
I finished before kick-off, successfully sent my story to the newsroom, and went in to roam. It was with a feeling of great elation that the electricity in the stadium only amplified. I was positively giddy. Walking down the steps behind one end zone, I spontaneously reached into my bookbag and grabbed my pocket Webster's. (Unused to laptops, I had brought it along as a reference tool.)
"DICTIONARIES!!" I cried, holding it high in classic vendor fashion. "GET YOUR DICTIONARIES HERE!!"
People looked up from the pre-game festivities in astonishment. I felt a small part of Super Bowl history.
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