WHEN I WAS SUPERMAN

First of all, she was late. The night wind and rain shook the black windows. An empty wooden podium, some plastic chairs in a room curtained off from the cafeteria. Most people had already left. I waited. Then the glass door flung open and Margot Kidder blew through. She fought off the weather in a heavy wool coat, and her makeup had run. She apologized, she just flew in. Her speech for Jesse Jackson was rushed and then she was off to the airport again. I held the door for her.