SOME DAY I WILL CALL UPON YOU TO DO A SERVICE FOR ME: I'm walking into the usual frenzy of a Friday morning at LAX, and somehow, not paying attention, I end up at general check-in. Since I travel so much, I have the benefit of using the Premier check-in counter and security line, which saves tons of time, and so I endeavor to cut back through the terminal to get there. As I do so, I notice that it's closed off, and I'll have to go outside the terminal and walk down several doors. Just as I have that realization, I see another guy who's apparently in the same boat. He's tall, fairly well-dressed, and he looks very frazzled. I hear him telling a United agent that he needs to get to First Class check-in, that he's in a big hurry.

"International," says the agent, whose English is not great. "Down dare."

The tall gentlemen looks confused, doubtful, lost. He does not trust what he's hearing.

"Excuse me, sir," I say to the harried traveler, who then turns to face me, applying his gaze of dubiousness.

Alas...it's David Gergen.

I continue with nary a hint of acknowledgement of his Gergenness.

"I'm headed to where you need to go," I tell him. "First Class checks in down by the International terminal."

"I'm really late," he tells me, making sure I get it that he doesn't have time to mess around.

"I know exactly where you need to go," I tell the Gergen. "Follow me."

So me and Gergen fast-walk it outside, with him falling in step a few paces behind me. As we're walking he's looking in through the window, and I can tell he's wondering if I'm a savior or a nutcase.

"That line's really long," says Gergen, his voice tinged with worry.

"Don't worry," I say in a soothing tone. "That's for the unwashed masses. When we get inside just follow me over by the wall. We get to walk past all that in our own premier security line."

He seems mollified...perhaps by the familiar language of "premier line," or perhaps it's my steadying presence, my natural leadership profile.

I give orders. The Gergen follows. He needs me.

We march through the doors and past the people, and the Gergen offers a very soft "thank you." He seems almost annoyed that he's needed me.

"Have a good flight," I tell him. "You're on your own now."

(Hat tip to Eric for the idea for my subject line.)