Flying Into The New Millennium

December 31, 1999, 4:45 EST — ABOARD TOWER AIR FLIGHT #70: We just took off from Fort Lauderdale International Airport heading for New York. Yes, we are flying into a new millennium.

Allison, my 10-year-old sitting next to me, was concerned about Y2K and the damage that evil computer bug might have wrought. Gil, my brother-in-law, also aboard and convinced that the real threat of the occasion was terrorism, intended to spend the night at home with my sister Carole. Lil, my wife, sitting in front of us and occupied reading Frank McCourt’s latest offering, ‘Tis, would be joining Moo (Allison) and me at our neighbors the Krebs for a quiet celebration tonight.

It was quiet aboard and the movie "Bowfinger" was playing on the big 747 as we thundered towards tomorrow.

It was somewhat surreal.

We booked the flight with the clear understanding that we would be home well before any potential Y2K problem. Now, I’m not a worrier. I was fairly convinced however, that there was a likelihood that somewhere in this nation’s power grid there was an old and buried computer chip that was not Y2K compliant. Sure, there might be minor disruptions in middle America and some not so minor ones in third world nations, but not in New York. That ugly Y2K bug had been outed, exterminated, terminated, its larvae destroyed in big ol’ modern metro New York.

Nevertheless, it seemed somewhat surreal.

It was almost 5 p.m. in the air, but somewhere, it was almost New Year’s – almost midnight. And since the world is now all connected, we were flying in a networked, air traffic controlled system that was about to turn midnight and enter a new year . . . century . . . what’s worse, millennium . . . somewhere.

Actually, the problem was quite simple . . . in a couple of minutes, some computer somewhere, that may be linked to some function of this air trip, may require four digits to record the new year and it may only have a chip that records two digits — thus, that computer would believe it was 1900. But this plane didn’t exist in 1900 — neither did the air traffic control system or the beacons that would guide the aircraft as we landed in New York.

So, as the clock ticks past 5 p.m. here — and midnight somewhere — could we just disappear into the space time continuum?

No, it was not going to happen, nothing was. But Allison preferred to be on the ground. This could be our one chance in a lifetime to cross that great divide — the space-time continuum — and she wanted to pass it by for safety.

Let’s allow the science fiction writers a moment. After all, they called more shots than we would have imagined. Somewhere, somehow, we got caught in that unknown gap and things are never the same again. Absurd? Sure! But when I was Allison’s age, I wouldn’t have imagined a battery driven, three pound laptop recording my father’s column on an airplane which is four times the size of my house, not to mention the fax machine, cell phone, wireless hoo hahs and going to the moon. C’mon, science fiction has become real.

Fantasy is reality and Dick Tracy’s watch phone will be worn by everyone – tomorrow. Beam me up Scotty? Maybe not so far off. Outer space travel in our lifetimes? Friends, the unimaginable is no longer unimaginable. Fantasy, reality. And the surreal, real.

Welcome to the third millennium – somewhere.

Welcome to the future. Tomorrow is today and we are all walking or flying through that portal together, and very soon we shall share the experience on the other side.

It was almost 6 p.m. when I resumed writing after a brief break . . . one more new millennium somewhere to cross. But soon I was going to have to start to pack up the laptop and peer out the window for the Unisphere – that’s how I know when I’m home.

Perhaps, on the other side is a new millennium for Queens. You know, people around the Unisphere, joining hands regardless of race, color, religion. People in a world of peace without poverty or war. A world where technology provides enough so that hunger, disease and suffering are a thing of the past. A world where schools meet the needs of our kids; government serves the citizens and people love instead of hate.

Welcome to a new millennium.

Happy future.

EDUCATION: No one at P.S. 146 in Howard Beach was "fessin’-up" this week to hiring a male stripper as entertainment at the school’s recent holiday party for teachers and staffers.

Disguised as a waiter, the stripper drew squeals of delight from partygoers when he shed his duds and began to gyrate to some seductive tunes.

Employees at Carosello (a "family" restaurant) said the whole affair was conducted behind closed doors with "discretion," but judging by the sounds that came from the room, the whole thing got "down and dirty," they said.

According to Matthew Broome, acting superintendent of School Board 27, the party was a private bash, not paid for with Board of Education funds. But that didn’t stop Broome and school Principal Arleen Smith from condemning the naughty goings-on.

"This will never happen again," Broome said. Right.

Sound familiar? Maybe that’s because it has happened before.

It was back in 1989, when a male stripper disguised as a police officer tore off his duds at a "Reading is Fundamental" (RIF) fundraiser sponsored by Community School Board 24 at Dante’s in Jackson Heights.

School Board and school officials expressed outrage at the time, and did their best to sweep the incident "under the rug."

They were so shook up, in fact, that they reached out to the late NY Newsday columnist Joe Queen, asking him to keep the stripper out of his column. Queen just happened to be a guest at the fundraiser – an invite organizers grew to regret.

The "unswayable" Queen ran the item, causing a backlash at the Bd. of Ed., political outrage and promises that it would "never happen again."

MILLENNIUM: Our informal survey about last week’s column which explained that the new millenium actually begins on Jan 1, 2001 indicates:

16 percent of all people believe the new millennium began on Jan. 1, 2000.

11 percent of all people believe the new millennium begins Jan 1, 2001.

The remaining 73 percent of us think that those 27 percent should get a life!

ALERT! There are only 354 shopping days left until Christmas!

Liz Goff contributed to this column.

Michael Schenkler can be reached at: MSchenkler@QueensTribune.com

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