Wit Stop

Black Holes Have Nothing on the Briefcase of This Traveler Arizona is a magnificent tourist state even to the fly-by visitor who is only looking down from a seat on an airplane that came from and is going somewhere else. The Grand Canyon is a breathtaking panorama from 30,000 feet. The color variations of the Painted Desert are as exciting when seen from the sky as they are from the ground. The labyrinthine Lake Powell coastline is even more intriguing from the air.

With no slight to the beautiful state of Arizona, though, one of the most astounding sights I've ever seen while flying is the briefcase of the businessman (and he's on every flight if you look diligently enough) who can cram more into his attache than you and I can stuff into the overhead bin and under the seat in front of us.

Recently I sat next to a gentleman who must have been the all-time briefcasestuffing champion. When we leveled off after takeoff, he set his case on his lap and opened it. Papers, documents, and brica-brac oozed from it the way the filling dribbles out of a jelly doughnut when you first bite into it. Julia Child has cooked turkeys stuffed less fully than this man's attache case.

I had no idea what this gentleman did for a living, but I would have offered him work packing for me. The seemingly endless amount of stuff that he

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I could cram into such a finite area was incredible. Perhaps this was the genius who invented that tiny car that holds 15 or 20 clowns at the circus. Maybe he was the guy who taught magicians how to produce hundreds of colored scarfs from no place. It could be he designed freeways. Whatever he did, it should have involved cramming a lot of something into a little bit of nothing because he had a talent for it.

He took a stack of papers from his case that was thick enough to choke a librarian. This bundle was so large that I would have mailed it ahead to wait for me at the hotel. Yet when he took it from his briefcase, it did not visibly diminish the bulkiness of what remained in the briefcase. Somehow the case seemed as full as it was before.

This guy used his open attaché case as a desk, working on his papers on top of all the other junk. It mesmerized me.

Staring at him and his Pandora's briefcase began to embarrass me. Just to give my eyes someplace else to look, I asked the flight attendant for a deck of cards.

"Sorry, sir, we're all out," he said.

My seatmate tapped me on the arm with an unopened deck of cards. "I always carry cards in my briefcase," he said. That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was that he also offered a book: 101 Different Games of Solitaire. I was going to ask if he had a set of poker chips and a felttopped table in there, too. I feared my sarcasm would be lost on him. I also feared that he might produce them.

"No, thanks," I said. "I don't want to open a new deck."

He reached into his case and produced an opened deck.

"I'll just do a crossword puzzle," I said.

He immediately offered me a book of New York Times crossword puzzles and at the same time said, "Want to borrow a pen?"

"Maybe later," I said.

"Maybe later," I said.

I unhooked my seat belt and began to rise in order to visit the "Occupado." It was occupied. I sat back down half expecting my traveling companion to offer me a box of Depends. He didn't.

For the rest of the journey, he worked diligently pulling books and papers and utensils from his opened case. I pretended to be asleep, but kept stealing glances at his magical case wondering if anything would grow in there as we traveled.

When we prepared for landing, he shoved the case under the seat in front of him, closed but not latched.

"Are you getting off the plane here?" he asked me.

"Yes, I am."

"Do you have a connecting flight?"

44 August 1996 "No. This is it for me."

Arizona Highways 1997 Calendars DECEMBER 1997

For 30 years, Arizona Highways' calendars have been a holiday gift-giving tradition. That's because they feature magnificent Arizona scenes in full-color by some of the world's finest photographers. All with easy-to-read dates and plenty of room for notes and appointments.

The 1997 Wall Calendar measures 12" by 9" and features a handy Arizona map on the back. It comes with a complimentary mailing envelope and costs just $6.99 plus shipping and handling.

The 1997 Engagement Calendar measures 6" by 9" and is packaged in an easy-to-mail container. It costs just $10.95 plus shipping and handling.

The Wall Calendar and Engagement Calendar are wire-bound and available after August 5, 1996.

To order, use the attached card or call toll-free nationwide, 1-800-543-5432. In the Phoenix area or outside the U.S., call 602-258-1000. To order online, visit us at http://www.arizhwys.com/ While in the Phoenix area, be sure to stop by our retail locations at 2039 West Lewis Avenue and at Arizona Center, 455 North Third Street.