Air Force One Page #5

Marshall picks up a stack of policy reports. Thumbs through

them.

MARSHALL:

C'mon Shep. I've been eating borscht

and drinking vodka for days. Isn't

that enough?

(off paper)

New home starts are down.

The steward arrives with the Russian beer. Marshall takes a

swig. He swallows hard. Piss-water. Marshall crosses to

his sink and pours the beer out. He hands the bottle to the

steward.

MARSHALL:

Fill this with Heineken.

The steward nods...

STEWARD:

Yes, Mr. President.

AND SLINKS AWAY WITH THE BOTTLE. MARSHALL CATCHES HIMSELF --

MARSHALL:

I don't believe this. I'm playing

politics with a bottle of beer. A

goddamn bottle of beer. I've been

in office too long.

SHEPHERD:

Look on the bright side... if the

polls don't change, you won't have

that problem, sir.

Marshall picks up the phone again.

MARSHALL:

Yeah. Put the Duke game on in my

room.

INT. AFO'S MISSION COMMUNICATION CENTER - NIGHT

THREE Air Force SPECIALISTS man the elaborate communication

system occupying much of the upper deck. Top-of-the-line

computers, communication systems, video decks, and satellite

receivers.

AIR FORCE SPECIALIST

Yes, Mr. President.

He slides in a videotape and channels the feed to the *

president's stateroom.

INT. PRESIDENT'S STATEROOM - NIGHT

A monitor comes to life with a basketball game.

MARSHALL:

(to Shepherd)

Defense and State Department in the

conference room in one hour. I want

to review the Iraq situation.

SHEPHERD:

Yes, sir.

Shepherd exits as Marshall settles into his leather chair

and dives into work. He punches a button on the speakerphone.

MARSHALL:

Get me the Housing Secretary...

EXT. AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT

The Marine Guards snap to attention once again as the First

Lady's motorcade arrives.

ROSE MARSHALL, a self-assured woman with an aristocratic

gleam, alights from her limo. She takes a few steps, then

turns, tapping her foot impatiently.

ROSE:

C'mon Alice, we're 20 minutes late.

Your father's gonna have a fit.

ALICE, the President's 13-year-old daughter, straggles out

of the car, rolling her eyes.

ALICE:

It's not like he hasn't made us wait

a few times.

ROSE:

Well, you aren't the President, dear.

ALICE:

Yeah, no duh.

INT. MAIN DECK, AIR FORCE ONE - NIGHT

As the First Lady's entourage enters.

ROSE:

Why don't you go say hi?

Again, Alice rolls her eyes.

ROSE:

What is wrong with you tonight?

Come here.

Rose pulls Alice aside.

ROSE:

You don't want to say hi to your

father?

ALICE:

I'm sure he's busy.

ROSE:

Don't you even want to ask?

Alice toes her foot into the carpet as she releases an

exasperated sigh. She is, in this moment, the patron saint

of know-it-all 13-year-old girls. Alice waves toward the

Presidential Suite.

ALICE:

If I go over there to say hi to daddy

President, Mike's going to tell me

he's in a meeting and can't be

disturbed. Then when the plane starts

to taxi, he'll come out and say "Hey,

are you guys back? Did you enjoy

the ballet?" But he'll be on his

way to another meeting and won't

wait for an answer. Then you'll get

pissed at him and he'll get pissed

at you. It's like you guys rehearse

or something.

With the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, Alice

Collapses into one of the many leather chairs. It seems to

swallow her. JORY, a steward passes.

ALICE:

Hey Joey, how `bout a cocoa, double

whip cream.

ROSE:

Alice...

ALICE:

Mom, just this once, give it a rest.

ROSE:

You're jet-lagged. We'll talk about

this back...

ALICE:

Back at The Fishbowl?

Alice eyes the swirl of Aides who are pretending to work

nearby.

But it's obvious that they're eavesdropping. Alice smiles

and waves at them dramatically.

ROSE:

We'll talk at home.

(beat)

You know, most girls aren't as lucky

as you. For most girls seeing the

Bolshoi ballet would be the experience

of a lifetime.

ALICE:

I know, Mom.

(sees the hurt in her

mom's eyes and softens)

It was great... really.

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