Doug Clark: Stalling for time with hours to kill

Mount Rushmore. The Empire State Building. Old Faithful …

I’ve admired my share of tourist attractions over the years.

But never have I been to a more moving landmark than the one I visited Sunday.

The Larry Craig Commode.

Talk about a lucky break. A leg of my flight back from Istanbul touched down at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport for a seven-hour layover.

While clearing customs, a thought tinkled in the canyons of my mind.

Minneapolis?

Layover?

Holy flotation device! This is the site of the most famous layover in American political history.

By now we’ve all heard the story about how U.S Sen. Craig was busted at this airport in a men’s room sex sting.

The conservative Idaho Republican pleaded guilty to disorderly conduct, which was A-OK with Craig as long as the press knew bupkis.

But Craig’s water closet creeping soon leaked out to become a news flush heard round the world.

The smart play would have been to go the Eliot Spitzer route.

The scandalized governor of New York resigned Wednesday.

His adios came just days after the grime-fighting Democrat was identified as “Client 9,” a john who paid something like 5,000 bucks for a hooker.

Five grand for a call girl?

This man is definitely not fit to be governor.

For that kind of scratch, Spitzer could have partied with Bavarian-costumed farm animals, a mariachi band and both Hilton sisters.

Craig, in contrast, seems bent on keeping his job and his name in the headlines.

Just Tuesday, in fact, the senator’s lawyers filed a 23-page document asking the Minnesota Court of Appeals to vacate his plea.

Well, I wasn’t about to vacate an opportunity to visit his famed can.

Entering the airport shopping mall, I quickly spotted a police officer. “Sir,” I asked, “do you know where I can find the …”

The lawman flashed a wry grin. Apparently I wasn’t the first potty pilgrim to seek him out for guidance.

He pointed. My destination, he told me, was over yonder, next to the shoeshine stand.

How appropriate. Craig was accused of tapping a toe under an adjoining stall to signal his desire for a restroom rendezvous.

I don’t know whether he patronized the Royal Zeno Shoeshine Shop. But a gleaming shine is always a surefire way for a guy to put his best foot forward.

Soon I was standing outside the men’s room entrance.

If you ask me, Minnesota tourism officials are missing the boat.

My brother, Dave, told me about this Portland restaurant that had a sign identifying the booth where actor Humphrey Bogart once dined.

A commemorative plaque noting that “Lusty Larry Tapped Here” would be a swell way to enhance this airport attraction.

I entered the cool blue and gray confines, happier than Mary Ann on Mary Jane.

For the record, I didn’t utilize the exact Larry Craig stall.

Even with all the protective paper seat rings, I didn’t want to get that close to where the senator once parked his so-called wide stance.

I chose a throne a few doors down and immediately sensed why Larry came here.

They pipe classical music over the sound system. The effect is regal, if not senatorial.

Here are a few notes I jotted down during my interactive stay at the Larry Craig Commode:

“People next to me.”

“Nobody peeking.”

“Sounds of flushing.”

“No hands a’reaching.”

“I give it two shoes up!”

I hope these insights will help during your next Minnesota airport layover.

As for me, I’m asking the editors to approve a trip Washington, D.C., where I will review another great political landmark.

The Eliot Spitzer Whore-tel Room.