Two Minutes

A lot can happen in just a few minutes. At work, I can put my frozen, boxed lunch in the microwave, set it for three minutes, get back to my desk, shuffle some papers or type a sentence before the timer dings and I return to the kitchen to fully remove the lid, stir the contents and heat for an additional minute, during which I scan the front page of the newspaper on the table nearby (and sometimes, a large portion of the contents).

At home, two minutes is enough time to pick a fight with Boyfriend, or visit the bathroom and be back on the couch and not miss a moment of whatever show I’m barely watching on TV. In the darkroom, two minutes is plenty of time (and sometimes, far too much time) to expose a negative onto photo paper, or run it through the developer solution. Heck, I’ve performed entire belly dance routines that are in the two to three minute time frame.

Two minutes is an eternity, really.

And as we saw last night, two minutes is the perfect amount of time to blow a decent lead in an NFL game. Geez, Bill Belichek. And we all get to see headlines like this on Monday morning, “Colts take advantage of Pats’ gamble for 35-34 win.” Tom Brady is probably pretty miffed this morning. And Peyton Manning and the Colts are likely giddy with joy.

And speaking of Peyton Manning … two minutes is plenty of time to chat up an NFL player and his entourage, too, but that is more my friend Stacy’s story than mine. About a year and a half ago (during the off-season), she, my friend Amy and I went to Nashville for the night. We were at The Stage on Broadway, Stacy was going to get a beer from the bar, so I asked her to bring me one back, too. After what felt like a parched forever of me staring at my empty bottle, she returned to the table. With a story. She had gone out to the alley in the back of the place for a quick cigarette, and while there, met Peyton Manning and his friends, who were in transit from one spot to (allegedly) nearby Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge. There was sharing of matches or lighters or cigarettes under some smoker’s code of generous camaraderie, and they all hung out back talking for a few minutes, and to clarify – NO, Manning was not smoking cigarettes, but one of his crew was.

When Stacy got back to the table and told us of her encounter with a major sports figure and where they said they were going next, we held a quick conference (15 seconds or less – plenty of time to reach a consensus or determine the next play) and decided to get over to Tootsie’s. Seriously, I don’t care for the Colts because my undying NFL loyalty and affection are pledged to the Pats, but one does not let precious information like the whereabouts of a star quarterback slip past without taking action, no matter what team he plays for. We never did find Manning and friends at Tootsie’s, so Amy and I didn’t get to experience a brush with fame that night. We were probably just two minutes behind.