DNC trivia
posted by bitchphd
I believe that M. LeBlanc is probably standing in a Very No Shit Security Line right this minute trying to get into the Pepsi Center for today's convention coverage--which you all are, of course, watching on the teevee in the cool and refreshing convenience of your own homes. (Actually she just texted me that she's chilling in the Art Museum. Literally.)
For my part, I am letting my sore feet relax while the sweat dries right here in the Convention Center, which has handy wireless access in the lobby.
I'm overhearing a conversation between a Clinton delegate and some other guy. (On further eavesdropping, he seems to be some kind of campaign consultant type, or lobbyist, or something. At least, he keeps talking about "clients" and who "gives us business" and such.)
CD: [mumble] Told me, you don't see too many middle-aged white guys who are Clinton delegates.* I said, well, here I am.
OG: What are you guys gonna do?
CD: I dunno.
CD: Oh well. Hillary's a superdelegate; the speaker said that Hillary's gonna vote for Barack.
OG: That's what I heard. We'll learn more from the speech.
CD: That primary was something this year, huh?
There you go, people. That's the big drama from the Clinton delegates: "I dunno." Chris Matthews notwithstanding.
*Actually, the only person I've seen so far with a "Nobama" sticker was an *old* white guy. No comment.
In other convention gossip, the National Women's Political Caucus, after inviting me to cover their meeting, failed to put Sybil's RSVP on their damn list and turned me away at the door! So rude! They tried to hit me up for $20 to "register," but I was all, bitches, I'm *press*. They weren't having it, though. So, despite my genuine love and adoration for the NWPC, I am hereby officially giving them a teensy bit of Bad Publicity for crapping on my credential.
Which brings up *the* major experience of the DNC for us blogger types: running all over downtown Denver to get credentials. Which you have to do, like, every day. For some events in specially secured areas, you have to do it twice a day *and* return used credentials by specified deadlines or they'll nix your credentials altogether. The security really isn't kidding.
Which basically is a good thing. But is also a MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS, given that it's freaking hot, that the credentialing sites all happen, for reasons of security or disorganization it isn't clear, to be at opposite corners of god's green earth. I'm sure it's great for the calves, and the city has been amazingly thoughtful about providing water stations basically everywhere, but I am not kidding when I say that one frequently has the sensation of sweat trickling down one's back, dripping off one's elbows, stinging one's eyes.
Politics: one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.
For my part, I am letting my sore feet relax while the sweat dries right here in the Convention Center, which has handy wireless access in the lobby.
I'm overhearing a conversation between a Clinton delegate and some other guy. (On further eavesdropping, he seems to be some kind of campaign consultant type, or lobbyist, or something. At least, he keeps talking about "clients" and who "gives us business" and such.)
CD: [mumble] Told me, you don't see too many middle-aged white guys who are Clinton delegates.* I said, well, here I am.
OG: What are you guys gonna do?
CD: I dunno.
CD: Oh well. Hillary's a superdelegate; the speaker said that Hillary's gonna vote for Barack.
OG: That's what I heard. We'll learn more from the speech.
CD: That primary was something this year, huh?
There you go, people. That's the big drama from the Clinton delegates: "I dunno." Chris Matthews notwithstanding.
*Actually, the only person I've seen so far with a "Nobama" sticker was an *old* white guy. No comment.
In other convention gossip, the National Women's Political Caucus, after inviting me to cover their meeting, failed to put Sybil's RSVP on their damn list and turned me away at the door! So rude! They tried to hit me up for $20 to "register," but I was all, bitches, I'm *press*. They weren't having it, though. So, despite my genuine love and adoration for the NWPC, I am hereby officially giving them a teensy bit of Bad Publicity for crapping on my credential.
Which brings up *the* major experience of the DNC for us blogger types: running all over downtown Denver to get credentials. Which you have to do, like, every day. For some events in specially secured areas, you have to do it twice a day *and* return used credentials by specified deadlines or they'll nix your credentials altogether. The security really isn't kidding.
Which basically is a good thing. But is also a MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS, given that it's freaking hot, that the credentialing sites all happen, for reasons of security or disorganization it isn't clear, to be at opposite corners of god's green earth. I'm sure it's great for the calves, and the city has been amazingly thoughtful about providing water stations basically everywhere, but I am not kidding when I say that one frequently has the sensation of sweat trickling down one's back, dripping off one's elbows, stinging one's eyes.
Politics: one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.
Labels: democratic national convention
Posted at 2:55 PM
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