Huh. Elad beat me to it on the pics of the Trojans display and the porta-potty delivery truck. Great minds snap pics alike, I guess.
It's not too long a hike from the Big Tent to the Pepsi Center but it's hot and I left my hat at home. I'm glad I have a free Google smoothie to tide me over. Yes, we lowly bloggers get product bribes, too-- in this case, about four ounces of pre-mixed strawberry-banana smoothie.
I find out later that while I've been walking to the Pepsi Center and hanging out there, The World's Most Wonderful Human Being (also known as my esposo) has been amusing himself by harrassing a couple of twenty-something laddies with big "McCain" signs. The dialogue, as reported by him, went something like this:
"So, you're McCain supporters?"
"Yeah."
"You're veterans?"
"uhh... no."
"Oh. You're active in the military now, then?"
"uhhh... no."
"Oh. You're in the reserve?"
"uhhhhh.... no."
They were looking extremely uneasy by this time, according to Himself.
"Well, why not? Our military needs all the healthy young, fellas like you... well, young fellas like you, anyway-- they can get! If you really support McCain, you should be over helping out in Iraq!"
The conversation ended there, more or less.
So I get to the Pepsi Center and tip a "howdy" to the Men In Black at the outer perimeter, then trudge another quarter-mile or so to the security line. It's early, so there's not much of a wait.
Outside, everyone wants to have their picture taken with the "HOPE" sculpture:
They air-condition the place to a fare-thee-well. As sports arenas go, it’s pretty nice. New, I guess, which might be part of the reason Denver was picked.
It's mid-afternoon and things are still pretty mellow. Most of the delegations just finished meeting over at the Convention Center, and they’re just making their way here. I talk to a woman from Florida who started out as a Hillary delegate. She doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about, the media flap and the questions. “Hillary’s released her delegates; I’ve got no problem with Obama—I
like Obama. The important thing is that we need to win. Our communities need help.”
She’s a union member and considers herself a “labor delegate.” I ask her what’s the one thing she most wants to see coming out of this Convention?
“Unity.”
She makes her way to her seat and I stroll around the outside concourse, observing the people. Mostly volunteers and guests and press, this early. I step into the hall and it’s still mostly empty. I’m on what they call the “300” level, which is the bottom of the nosebleed section but gives you a good overview.
I start off around the arena and scan to see where “my” states are seated: New Mexico’s delegation is small—I can’t find the sign. Minnesota, halfway around, almost directly in front of the podium but back on the first level of rising seats. Maryland, farther around to the speaker’s left. Kansas, where my husband is from, is closer to me.
Up here in the almost-empty nosebleed sections, I run across the occasional spectator-- the proprietor of a "political newsletter" from Wichita, Kansas; a couple waiting for their granddaughter to come out and sing with the youth chorus during the day's opening festivities, and look! Down there! It's CSPAN, doing an interview!
They're both wearing headphones, so I peer over for a closer look. The interview is in Spanish, which the interviewer speaks but the interviewee doesn't, so there are long pauses while they wait for translations in their headphones. I don't recognize the interviewee, but by the sound of what I can catch, he's a PUMA! He's explaining what terrible, terrible damage is being done to the party by the terrible, terrible treatment being meted out to Hillary and her loyal supporters.
I feel a surge of sympathy for Hillary, having this albatross hung around her neck by goombas like this suit-clad thug. However, I have every confidence in her grace and intelligence and poise and ability to rise above it. She's no dummy.
Not much is happening in the hall, yet, so I go out for a tour of the arena concourses. It's about what you'd expect on what they call the "300" level-- where the delegates enter the hall and mill around between speeches and suchlike:
So I take a chance, and sneak on up to the "Club" level, which (technically,) my "300" credential doesn't entitle me to do. ooooooo! Forbidden fruit!!
Fortunately the identifying tag on the credential is tiny so I figure if I stride purposefully along like I know what I'm doing, make no
obvious trouble, and act like I belong there, I might pass for awhile:
Folks up here don't have to eat Dippin' Dots and Nachos:
There are lounges for various big-money sponsors, a Press checkin, a hideaway for Senators (none in view when I lounge hopefully by,) and plenty of staff and volunteers. A train of carts full of bags of signs-- the "Hillary" signs that will be brandished around tonight during the big doins-- is trundled past by staffers and I weigh my chances of copping one, but I think it will make me too conspicuous at this point.
They're starting the program and I head back to the permitted zone. Eleanor Holmes Norton, one of my favorite
ever elected officials, leads things off with a speech full of passion. The DC delegation has just arrived and I join them in loud appreciation. The hall is filling fast, now.
My favorite line of the day is delivered by New York Governor David Patterson:
"If John McCain is the answer, the question is ridiculous!"
The New York delegation is seated and there are a lot of them. They love him! They're trying to raise the roof off the Pepsi Center when he's introduced, and when he's done they break into shouts of "Da-vid! Da-Vid! Da-vid!"
I slide around to check out the rest of the media. Here's one, can you guess who these are?
If you guessed Faux News, give yerself a chocolate.
It's starting to be actually
crowded, now. All the state delegations are seated and guests are starting to pour in. Time to head out and hand off the credential to Hissyspit who will be covering the evening doin's.
I did hear from both he and Brian earlier in the afternoon that there were various protestors protesting but all was generally peaceful. That seemed confirmed by the large numbers of exceptionally bored- and relaxed-looking law enforcement by the perimeter:
I make contact by cell phone with Himself and we set up a meeting point, by the Men In Black. When I get there, there is a steady stream of visitors heading in, greeted by this:
And
Obama's the flake.
Yeah, right.
We head off to Boulder for dinner with friends. They're fun but I can barely keep awake. This blogging stuff is hard work!
More tomorrow...
wearily,
Bright