Everyone has that list, whether in their head or on paper, of "Things I Want to Do Before I Die."  This list usually includes obvious life accomplishments like traveling to certain places, learning ostensibly life-affirming but mostly useless skills like a foreign language or how to cook, or meeting famous individuals.  My personal list includes, among other things: playing in the World Series of Poker, being listed on imdb.com, and having sex with an Asian chick.  That last one might sound really racist, but…um…

No, I got nothing.  It's just racist.  But still.

However, my list doesn't just include those big life moments, like sexual intercourse with specific ethnic groups, but also little moments.  Events that, while seeming insignificant, are really the basis for what life is all about.  For example…

I want to be accused of a crime I didn't commit, just so I can plead to my friends, "I didn't do it!  You guys believe me, don't you?"  And they'll say of course they believe me, but really they won't.  And when they find out I really didn't do it, they'll feel really bad, and buy me dinner. 

I want, just once, to say to a girl, "I'm sick of you treating me like just a big piece of meat!"…and mean it. 

And finally, I want to run through an airport or bus station, screaming for the travelers to wait, so that I can stop the girl I love from leaving with a big, impassioned, metaphor-heavy speech, just like in the movies.  At the end of the speech, a single stranger will start to clap, and then everyone will start to clap, and the girl will drop her bags and run into my arms. 

I don't want to do this because I think it's romantic or sweet.  Actually, I think it's sort of lame.  I just want to do it because I am convinced that as often as this moment or a variation of it has been used in movies, it has never actually occurred in real life.  And I want to be the first to actually accomplish it.

I imagine it going down a little something like this…

She'll be a doctor.  And very attractive.  Not attractive in that gorgeous supermodel completely unattainable way, but just attractive enough to make me constantly wish I spent a little more time at the gym.  We'll meet when I have to go to the emergency room after getting stung by a bee and mistakenly thinking I'm having an allergic reaction, even though I'm not.  I mean, that's never actually happened to me, because, come on, that would be fucking ridiculous.  But in this story, that's what's going on.

So I'm laying in a hospital bed, whacked out on Benadryl and the depressants they pumped me with to stop me from having a panic attack about dying from a bee sting, when I see my just attractive enough doctor.  I decide to hit on her with a witty line, like, "So, baby…do you like guys who get stung by bees and have to go to the hospital?"  But because of the drugs in comes out, "Baby guys like bees to get so you ghaaaa…"  And she thinks I'm retarded.  Later, after coming out of my drug veiled stupor I go to thank Dr. Cutie for saving my life, and she realizes that I'm not retarded, just a nerd.  Also, she has incredibly low standards, so she agrees to have coffee with me the next day.  I hate coffee, of course, which makes me wonder why I keep asking girls I want to date if they want to have coffee.  I should ask them if they want to play miniature golf instead, which is way more fun, and also has the added benefit of making me look tall.

So the next day, Dr. Cutie is having coffee and I'm pretending to drink coffee by putting it in my mouth and secretly spitting it back in my cup because I'm too embarrassed to explain why I would ask her to coffee when I don't like coffee, and we're having a great time.  An instant connection.  There's wit, humor, intellectually stimulating stories, perfectly timed anecdotes, and sincere emotional unveiling.  Dr. Cutie talks some, too.

At the end of the date, I ask Dr. Cutie if I can see her again, and she smiles, but then she gets this far off look in her eye.  She tells me she's flying out to Africa tomorrow as part of a "Doctors Without Borders" program to help treat poor, starving children with AIDS…or some shit.  I say, "Hey, that's great."  Then I say, "Thanks for the coffee," for some reason even though I bought my own damn coffee I didn't even drink.  And I go home.

But that night in bed, I think to myself compassionately, "Fuck dying AIDS children.  They get all the help."  I rationalize this argument, figuring there are a million doctors over in Africa helping with AIDS, but only one Dr. Cutie.  The stage is set for a dramatic, heart-rending, last minute airport staged romantic overture!

I somehow know exactly on which plane, from which airport, and at what time Dr. Cutie is leaving the next day.  I don't know how.  She told me, or something.  And I'm sprinting through the airport, trying to reach the right gate in time, because even though I've had this planned since last night I'm running late.  There was a marathon of the old "Batman" TV show with Adam West on today, and I just had to see if Batman and Robin managed to escape The Joker's diabolical trap that was set to dump them into a vat of boiling acid (SPOILER: They did).  So I'm running, and airport security are trying to catch me because I'm probably a terrorist or possibly crazy, but they can't keep up with me because I'm just running so damn fast.

And I get to Dr. Cutie's gate, and she's THE VERY NEXT PASSANGER TO GET ON THE PLANE!  It's now or never for me.  And I say, "Doctor!"  And she looks, because she is one, and I say, "Don't get on that plane."

And she says, "I have to.  Think of the dying African children."

And I say, "There's a dying African child right here."  And I point to my heart.  But I'm not actually dying, or African.  I mean it metaphorically, like my heart is a dying African child.  But I don't say that part.  She knows.

Then I say, "You see, when that bee stung me lo these long forty-eight hours ago, he didn't inject me with bee venom…" or whatever the hell it is bees inject you with; I'll have to look that part up, "…he injected me with love.  And I didn't have an allergic reaction to the sting.  I had an allergic reaction…to your face.  You, Dr. Cutie, are my allergy, and the only Benadryl is your love."

She'll be so moved by my clever speech she will drop her ticket, her bags, and run past everyone into my arms.  We'll kiss, and someone will start clapping.  Then, everyone is clapping, even the security guards, because they know that breaking airport security laws is justified in this case.  And I'll lift Dr. Cutie in my arms and carry her to my car, and we'll drive away from the airport, and everyone is still clapping, even the people outside because they somehow intrinsically sense what is happening.

Awesome.

Three months later Dr. Cutie will dump me after she catches me in bed with her sister and the Red Lobster waitress.  But that's neither here nor there.  I don't need her anymore, because I accomplished one of my life goals.

So…

Any single doctors out there?