Day 1

11:05 A.M. LaGuardia Airport, Concourse D

Meet Bernard at Metal Detector. Learned that airport personnel don't think jokes about us being the only two token whites in the Hezbollah are funny. After a short, routine, (and very gentle, almost loving) strip search, we make our way to the gate. Although we're a little late, Bernard and I feel like we've just made some new friends. He tells me he's taken Enrique's (the cute one) number, and promised to call for a little get together when we get back.

11:28.A.M. AA Flight 491 Gate 7 D

Larry meets us at the gate with fresh off the press copies of the SI Swimsuit Issue, which Bernard trades for this month's JUGGS: Home of the DD. Cup. They taunt me, as all I've brought to read is the February Mac Home Journal. I protest, claiming that the chick in the Mac Warehouse ad is pretty hot.

11:53 A.M. Runway 2

Raining. Take off is dicey. Think I scared rest of passengers with my Tom Snyder impression. ("Oh, Jesus! We're gonna die! OhGodohGodohGodohGod!)

11:58 A.M. EST 27,000 Feet

Where the hell is lunch?

11:58: 27 A.M. EST 28,956 Feet

Where the hell is lunch?

11: 59: 49 A.M. EST 32,000 Feet

Flight Attendant assures me that lunch is coming shortly. I return command of plane to pilot and crew.

12: 55 P.M. EST 34,651 Feet

Flight Attendant informs us we have a choice of hot salmon or cold BBQ Chicken. What are they having in coach? Wet rocks? They won't let me pick both, so I pick the chicken, knowing they'll run out by the time they get to Larry and Bernie. I convince them to go with the fish, knowing they won't like it and I'll get theirs. They do, and I do. Surf and Turf at 35,000 feet.

1:44 P.M. EST Cruising Altitude

Dessert. Cold milk and Hot Chocolate Chip and Macadamia Nut Cookies. I'm impressed with the fact that they're actually hot, and Larry seems to think it has something to do with the fire on the right wing. I guess it's good I don't have a window seat.

1:47 P.M. EST Cruising Altitude

Reprise of Tom Snyder impression finds mixed response. Fire is put out, and I decide to nap.

2: 56 .00 P.M.. EST Cruising Altitude

Larry spots Little Rock from the air. I don't believe him. He asks the stewardess to ask the pilot. The pilot says we have, indeed, just passed it. Larry says he swears he can see the Excelsior. I ask him how he can. He says he can see the monument they've erected to commemorate my breakfast the morning we checked out.

2:36 P.M. CST. Descent

About 60 miles south of Dallas Airport. Seatbelt sign has just gone on. We all eagerly anticipate the next leg of the trip, where we all get to travel with the I-Man. We begin sedation. I find that Dramamine and Prozac generates quite the buzz.

2:46 P.M. CST Dallas International, Gate 33

We're the first off the plane. The crew appears relieved. You'd think it was the first time someone took a dump on the service cart. No one meets us as promised. Larry, Bernard and I wander aimlessly through the Dallas airport. After 20 minutes, we realize that the Admiral's club is adjacent to our gate. We take the elevator to the Admiral's club where an American Airlines employee questions the validity of our being there. After a lengthy discussion (and a 20 dollar bribe) we finally convince her that we are supposed to be the guests of Dolly Parton's personal assistant, Walter Henry Hagen. Two phone calls and 15 minutes later, we are escorted to Mr. Hagen's office. Mr. Hagen is a bright, vivacious man, and I have a hard time believing that he's in his seventies. It is here that Larry and I see Imus for the first time today. He is prone on the couch in Mr. Hagen's office. He does not look good. in fact, Mr. Hagen looks better than he does. Charles is in another office, desperately trying to retrieve a piece of material that his Powerbook 180C ate enroute from Newark. For a brief moment, I understand why Bill Gates is the richest man in the world, and nobody's heard from Steve Jobs in quite some time. Soon, it's time for the flight to Vegas. there is a buzz surrounding our boarding as the other Dallas passengers believe that we are Keith Richards and his entourage. I sign an autograph. "Van Morrison".

3:30 P.M. PST 28,000 feet

We've been in the air for quite awhile now, and the Captain says we're over the Grand Canyon. From this altitude, I realize that it's nothing but a big, rocky hole. I try to sleep.

4:25 PST 27643 feet

Larry wakes me, as I've been drooling, causing a minor flood in the first class cabin. Our flight attendant, "Marnie", is very sweet, telling me it's a welcome change from the dry, recycled air of the craft. I hear that the ground crew has been notified of our arrival. Apparently, there are ambulances awaiting our landing. The I-Man is not well. We all try to ascertain the medical problem and provide a diagnosis. After some rather abrupt exchanges, we are able to surmise that he feels `Icky'. There is a doctor on board. We all get scrips for Prozac, that hopefully, the staff from KVEG will be able to get filled for us.

5:17 PST Landing LV International Runway 5

Limo driver meets us at gate, and picks up bags while I lose about 900 dollars in the slots nearby. Ride to the Mirage is thankfully short, as the myriad bags we've brought have been strapped to the roof, making us look like the Beverly Hillbillies as we hit town. The Mirage is, without question, the most amazing hotel I've ever seen. Check in goes smoothly, despite the weird looks when we inquire whether or not hookers are available through room service.

7:31 P.M. Mirage Hotel Room 32175

Upset that the buffet does not deliver to the room. Instead, settle for club sandwich and glass of milk. Bill comes to 1100 dollars. Time to turn in. Got to get up in 6 hours. More tomorrow, after the show.

Day 2

1:30 A.M. PST Mirage Hotel Room 32175 Wakeup call. VAMPIRES don't get up this early. Take a shower. Nap while conditioning hair. Dress in Turquoise Tuxedo and Bowling Shoes, in desperate attempt to stand out. Take elevator to lobby. Man at craps table is wearing same outfit. Viva Las Vegas.

2:15 A.M. PST Race and Sports Book Studio Meet Larry, Chuck and Bernie where we are to broadcast from. There are about 300 people here. A huge casino cranks all around us, 150 feet away there are two white tigers on display and yet these losers are sitting here waiting to watch us put on a radio show. I thank God for people with no lives.

2:25 A.M. Imus arrives to huge ovation. He's wearing his 20X Beaver Resistall and his John Lennon sunglasses. Someone at a nearby roulette table mistakes him for Gene Autry. Imus crushes the man's windipe with his thumb and forefinger. He's obviously feeling better.

2:45 A.M. The first outburst of the morning takes place at the sound engineer's expense. The table the mikes are on picks up the vibrations from the stage and the thumps make th I-Man nervous. The engineer is fired and Imus arranges to have he and his family killed. Mark Chernoff thinks that despite this unfortunate incident, "I think it's going rather well."

3:20 A.M. Minko steps up big time with sports. Imus is pleased. His mood soon turns black when his coffee cools below the desired temperature. The chef at the Mirage is fried and he and his family killed.

3:27 A.M. President Richard Nixon is here. I am dismayed to learn that, despite the fact that he's been dead for a number of years now, he's done better at the blackjack tables than me.

3:40 A.M. Imus isn't feeling well again. It comes in waves. I offer to have one of the interns from KVEG killed to cheer him up. The pleasure he derives from the sacrifice appeases him temporarily.

4:54 A.M. Bob Bennett is the guest, talks for 27 minutes. The way I figure it, this interview will end up costing President Clinton 750 dollars.

5:20 A.M . Scottso stops by. Some tourist from Cleveland throws water on him, thinking one of the dolphins has broken free from the tank.

5:38 A.M Senator Dodd is the guest. Imus refers to him as one of the last few Clinton Suckups. I wonder if Bubba has hit him up for money to pay Bennett.

5:51 A.M. Time change is starting to affect me. By my calculations, it must be nighttime in New York. Imus doesn't look good. He's really not feeling well. I kill two blackjack dealers for him but it doesn't make him feel any better. I've noticed that all the women here are very friendly. Larry informs me it's because they're all hookers. He is so much more worldly than me.

6:21 A.M. Steve Wynn stops by for a live interview. Although I'm an avowed hetereosexual, I must admit he is a very hunky dude.

6:36 A.M. Don Criqui is here. he's taller than he appears on the radio. He tells me a joke: "What's the best thing about having Alzheimer's? You met new people everyday. Enjoy, buddy."

6:41 A.M Coasting now. We're told our presence is requested at a cocktail reception later this evening for the station and one of the sponsors. I offer to waitress. Instead, they ask if I'd mind being an escort for the client who spends the most money at the station. All I have to do is look pretty and accompany him to the Baccarat table. I hope he tips well.

7:00 A.M. Show is over. Although there's been some bloodshed, none of what's been spilled has been ours. One down. One to go. Back to Imus' Lanai where I have steak and eggs and give him his spongebath and massage. I return to my room about 8:30 and try to nap, but the sounds of those infernal, screaming lambs keep me awake.

Day 3

7:00 A.M. Mirage Good show today, although I think Ferrell should seriously start thinking about switching to decaf. Larry is going home to go camping with his son Tanner this weekend, and Bernard is staying in Vegas until tomorrow. The reason he's not accompanying Chuck, Imus and me is unclear. Will make it a point to solve this mystery before the day is out.

8:43 A.M. Larry has won 38,000 dollars on the nickel slots. His flight leaves before ours but he wants to parlay it into some really big money so I take it for him and promise to bet on the Super Bowl for him. I get a tip that's surefire. I bet it all on San Fransisco to win Superbowl 29. Come monday, we'll be rolling in high cotton. Chuck and I hit the breakfast buffet, and after my third trip to the pork bar, they're forced to close down to restock.

10:30 A.M. Las Vegas International Our flight on Reno Air to Tucson is delayed. Imus amuses all the passengers with his stories about when he used to hang off boxcars and sleep behind driers in the old days. A charter plane with a bunch of guys from the KKK arrives. Apparently, they're in town tonight for some kind of convention. Have a hunch as to why Bernard is staying behind.

2:37 MST Tucson International. Flight is relatively routine, although some passengers in coach complain that Imus' whining drowned out the In Flight Movie. We're met by Tom Hassy, the Lebanese local who owns the station here. He's a sweet, funny and kind man. 45 seconds after meeting Imus, he breaks down. They are not tears of joy. We go to the Hotel Park Tucson, where we are to stay and do the show on Monday. It's a great place, where the scent of sagebrush fills the air. The special chair has not yet arrived. I give Tom some of the Prozac I have left over from Vegas. Time to nap until dinner with Tom and some other folks from the station. He wants to take us for Mediterranean, but Baba Ganoush isn't exactly what we're in the mood for, but I'm not sure there are too many Mexican restaurants here to choose from. Tomorrow, Chuck and I are to accompany the I-Man to Tombstone, although we'd both rather be standing over one with his name on it.

Day 4

9:00 A.M. Hotel Park Tucson Imus, Charles and I attend a breakfast for clients and sponsors of KTUC, hosted by Tom Hassey, the Lebanese owner of the station. Imus startles the crowd when he gets up to speak. Apparently, they all think he's passed away during the reception.

10:30 A.M. I-10 East We're on our way to Tombstone, Arizona in a brand new, fire engine red Jeep Grand Cherokee with Imus as the wheel. The sun is shining, it's 68 degrees outside and Chuck and I remark how Larry is back East camping out in the freezing rain with a group of screaming seven year olds. Sadly, we know he's having a much better time.

12:07 P.M. Tomstone, Arizona Imus is not planning on parking the car. We protest, as we're excited about seeing the O.K. Corral. He says he'll slow down asw we pass it. Finally, we convince him it's worth checking out the art galleries. We've come all the way to this historic village to `Walk where they fell', and he wants to look for R.C. Gorman prints. He buys and antique rigle for 1000 dollars. He wants me to put it in my carry on bag. Later, we visit Boot Hill, where Imus frightens a young child, thinking he's one of the Clanton brothers back from the dead to get him. We all find Boot Hill a little disheartening. What Chuck and I find to be most disappointing however, is that Imus' name isn't on any of the grave markers.

2:30 P.M. Hotel Park Tucson. Two messages from Larry. `RE: SuperBowl" Apparently, the reason I had a lock is I bet his 38 grand on last year's game. Front desk mentions `he sounds upset'.

3:30 P.M. Hotel Park Tucson Telegram from Larry. Well, actually, more like a death threat. Charles Gray, the general manager of the hotel, provides me with 24 hour security.

4:00 P.M. Tucson Plaza Shopping Mall. Charles and I look for souvenirs. I buy a Beaver Cowboy Hat, despite his protests. I think I look cool in it. Charles says I look stupid. I wonder whose side Imus will take.

4:27 P.M. Hotel Park Tucson. Presidential Suite. I find out whose side Imus takes. Throw hat into swimming pool. A family of Mexicans retrieves it, makes it their summer home.

7:00 P.M Imus is sick again. Will not be joining us at the Rancher's Club Grille here at the hotel for dinner. Tom Hassey brings him chicken soup. Bernard pees in it before we give it to him.

7:30 P.M. Rancher's Club Grille Tom Hassey buys us dinner. I think the 46 oz. Porterhouse sounds good. I order two. The check comes. Tom has a minor cardiac event. Paramedics revive him, and after a quick call to his banker arranging a lien on his house, pays the bill.

10:59 P.M. Presidential Suite Chuck calls me in my room to ask if I want to go `camping'. We fall asleep in each other's arms.

Day 5

Sunday, January 28th, 1996 4:00 P.M. Presidential Suite. After a leisurely brunch at Hooters, Chuck and I return to Imus' suite for the big Super Bowl Party. Tom Hassey has catered the affair. There's fruit, crudite, stuffed Jalapeños, fried shrimp and all the Poland Spring water we can drink. Parrrteeeeeee! Imus wears his "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" outfit. Sitting in front of the T.V., I feel like Nicholson in the `World's Series' scene. I think Bernie's nurse outfit is somewhat responsible. Cowboys win. Larry calls. We refuse to take it.

Day 6

Monday, January 29th, 1996 3:00 A.M. Hotel Park Tucson Ballroom Here is where we are to broadcast from. The walls appear to be buckling, but I realize that it's only due to the fact that I've gotten a total of 3 hours of sleep during this whole trip. No one is in the room yet. We wonder how this is going to be today. Even in Vegas, there was a respectable crowd before the show started.

3:25 A.M. Imus arrives. Once security has escorted him to the dais, they bring up the audience, who have been waiting outside in the cold and dark since 2:00 this morning. There are 350 of them. More arrive every minute. For some reason, I'm reminded of the chorus from `Eleanor Rigby'. "ahhhhhh look at all the lonely people......"

8:00 A.M. The show is over. Sen. John McCain is, in my opinion, the highlight. What an impressive man. Sharp, intelligent, insightful, and fall on the floor funny. I want to join the airforce so I can go over to Vietnam and bomb the bastards who tortured him for five years. Tom Hassey wants us to say a few words to another handful of sponsors at some continental breakfast across the hall. He knows how to get me to go anywhere, make sure there's pastry. The crowd gives Imus and the show a standing ovation. We go across the hall to the reception, where Imus says as few words. `Get out.' On to the airport.

9:10 A.M. Tucson International Airport Another strip search at airport when security finds the Cowboy Pistol Cap Gun I've bought for my son as a souvenir in my attache case. These people have no sense of humor.

12:18 P.M. Denver International Bernard and I change planes. He stops to punch out a few minority flight attendants on our way to the next gate. We board the 737, which is not as comfortable as the 727 Chuck and Imus got to stay on to Newark, and Bernie complains to the stewardess about the lack of leg room. She does her best to apologize, but it's not enough for him, and he beats her unconscious with the oxygen mask assembly. I get the feeling he's a little homesick.

4:16, EST 37,000 feet Have changed watch back to New York Time. Notice a man across the aisle from us in First Class reading Howard Stern's "Miss America". Obviously a frequent flier upgrade.

6:07 P.M. EST Laquardia Airport We're finally home. I'm exhausted. Bernard's parked his car here and so I'll probably just grab a cab. Get paged over the public address system. I go to the white courtesy phone. It's Larry: "Need a ride?"