Note to readers: The following Roger Simon column was first published in April 1997.

WASHINGTON — Air Force One is like no plane you have ever been on. First of all, on the inside, it doesn't look like a plane at all.

The inside of Air Force One is not a long tube with an aisle running down it and seats on each side.

Instead, Air Force One is divided into a series of rectangular rooms, some with airplane seats and some with conference tables and chairs. A few couches and lamps are scattered about to give it a homey feel, but essentially, Air Force One looks like a flying insurance office.

Now, technically speaking, Air Force One is the radio code for any plane the president is flying on. But I am speaking of the plane most people associate with Air Force One, the gigantic Boeing 747-200B that says "The United States of America" on the side.

Anyway, one of the rectangles is the press cabin, and here, as in other parts of the plane, movies are shown on television monitors. Unlike aboard a regular aircraft, however, you get to choose the movie. This may be one of the coolest things about Air Force One. The people in the cabin vote on what movie they want, and then you just pick up the phone and call a control booth in the front of the plane somewhere and tell them which movie you want to see in your cabin.

The Clinton White House once was forced to make public a list of those political cronies of the president who were given rides on Air Force One after they had contributed to or raised money for the Democratic National Committee.

And I am convinced many of these people gave big bucks just so they could pick up the phone and choose their own movie. It makes you feel very powerful. It makes you feel like Richard Nixon ordering up "Patton."

The last time I flew on Air Force One, there were 15 films available. (Four were rated PG-13 and the rest were R-rated — very few children fly on Air Force One. ) The movies included "The American President," "Braveheart," "Crimson Tide," "Diabolique," "Goldeneye," "Rumble in the Bronx," "Waiting to Exhale" and "Fargo."

As always, the reporters in the press cabin voted to see "Fargo." "Fargo" became the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" of the White House press corps, and the reporters kept requesting it again and again. And as soon as the movie was finished, the technicians would start it over, so that after a week of travel, it was very possible to have seen "Fargo" 20 times. Many of the reporters left their headsets off and shouted the dialogue at the screen.

You can't exactly wander about freely on Air Force One, but presidential press secretary Mike McCurry took me on a tour. And one of the things that struck me was how many times the presidential seal is displayed on Air Force One. It is on just about everything: the glasses, the plates, the paper napkins, the pillows and the little boxes of M&Ms (which replaced packs of cigarettes during the Reagan administration). And just in case the president forgets what office he holds, there is a seal of office bolted to the wall at eye level right next to his desk. In fact, about the only thing I could find on board that did not have a presidential seal on it was a plastic air-sickness bag.

There are daily menus on Air Force One printed on heavy, cream-colored paper bordered in gold. They have the presidential seal engraved in gold at the top and "Air Force One" in gold at the bottom. On one of the days I flew, the menu read: "Sloppy Joe on Hamburger Roll. Fritos. Cole Slaw. Apple-Filled Oatmeal Cookies. Choice of Beverage."

The food is military food. The president may be a man of large appetites but they are simple ones, and he thinks the food on Air Force One is just swell.

At last year's White House Correspondents' Dinner, when an officer of the organization promised from the lectern to try to get better food for reporters on Air Force One, Clinton turned to McCurry on the dais and said: "We've got to do something about that. I thought reporters got the same food we did."

"They do," McCurry replied.

Like just about everybody who flies on Air Force One, I grabbed everything I could at the end of the flight. I took two boxes of M&Ms for the kids who live across the street from me, cocktail napkins for their parents, the Sloppy Joe menu for a colleague and the air-sickness bag for myself — just because I thought it would be neat to have a presidential air-sickness bag, even if it didn't have a presidential seal on it.

Like all reporters, I paid for my trip on Air Force One. It wasn't a political contribution. It was a payment to the U.S. government.

But why not let everybody do this? Why just let people who contribute to the Democratic Party get on board? Why not let any citizen fly with the president who can come up with the dough?

Some of my colleagues in the press corps might not like this idea, but I think coming in greater contact with ordinary citizens is a good idea for anyone who spends too much time in Washington.

And if it were in my power, I would certainly let any of you fly with me on Air Force One.

Just as long as you voted for "Fargo."

To find out more about Roger Simon, and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

3