Holding Pattern, Part I

“No man should know his destiny!” * -- Doc Brown

* unless his destiny involves getting shot by terrorists or hit by a bus, in which case a few clues are OK

Last Saturday night I caught the last half-hour of Back to the Future on TBS. Yesterday I rented The Lake House. The asterisked addendum is my take-home message, courtesy of Christopher and Keanu. Artistic parallels stop there. Nothing from The Lake House is quotable, or perhaps it’s all quotable, depending on your perspective. I’m sure I’ve often implored people to “Wait. Wait. Wait for me,” though I’ve never told anyone to “Make like a tree, and . . . get lost.” The former line becomes a mantra for Sandra Bullock, who clearly never bothered viewing the BTTF trilogy, else she’d have slapped a friendly caveat in Keanu’s mailbox post haste. (What is it with Keanu and public transit, anyway?) The latter quotation is from Biff, who can wash my car any day.

I really don’t like waiting -- for buses, flux capacitors, or destiny -- so, I’m not sure I can get behind this movie review. (Also, I think playing chess with a dog might be kind of fun, depending on the breed.)

I will grant you this, Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat: waiting is inevitable. I’ve waited for small things: pizza; the season premiere of “Grey’s Anatomy;” dry nail polish; cocktail hour. And bigger things: wisdom; love; the new Christopher Guest film. Some things I’ve waited for, you’ve waited for: birthdays; dental appointments; comets. But waiting can be lonely, and it brings no guarantees. Waiting is a gamble.

“The Gambler” is not the love theme from The Lake House. Sandra and Keanu don’t waste screen time knowing when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. Holding ‘em is the default bet. When her leading man doesn’t appear at a coffeeshop, Sandra waits at the eponymous House. Eventually, one of the star-cross’d couple -- I don’t remember which -- resolves to wait two years for the other. Where’s the DeLorean when you need it?

Here’s my real question (attn: Brussats): even if we recognize that waiting is a valuable spiritual activity, shouldn’t we stop waiting at some point? After all, waiting can’t exist without not-waiting. When it comes to the capital-Ls -- Life, Love, Lakefront Property -- when should the waiting end?

I hate to stop on this pseudo-Carrie Bradshaw note, but I have midterm studying that simply won’t wait. Allow me to continue this post later . . . (insert Sandra’s plea).