As I was leaving Bettina's office in Union Square last Thursday I noticed hundreds (perhaps thousands, I have no idea on how to gauge crowds) of people holding signs and waiting politely outside the Weston St. Francis. I asked a bystander what all the hubbub was about and he said (incredulously) "The President's gonna be here tonight!"
Well, I didn't really have a lot to say to Obama (but get back to me in a few months if he hasn't gotten around to ending those two wars and working on LGBT rights) but I would love a chance to see the guy in person so I set up shop behind a bank of television reporters and their respective cameramen.
This turned out to be the most fascinating part of the entire evening. The police eventually shooed me to the curb and put up a barrier but not before I overheard the gossip straight from the reporters mouths. Some fragments: ". . . giving a fundraiser this evening. . . $30,000 a head. . . don't know the exact location of the President at this moment but he is schedualed to speak at 7. . . probably will not be arriving at the front door of the hotel, but in a side alley. . . get me a sammie, will 'ya?"
I called my brother to pass the time and told him I had a "clear shot" of the entrance to the hotel. I was referencing my camera phone but immediatly realized this was a poor choice of words, and abruptly ended the conversation.
Helicopters were circling overhead and various sirens were heard, all titillating the crowd into thinking the arrival was immanent. This reached a fever pitch when the police (who all looked as confused as the crowd) blocked off Powell Street. This was the moment! The motorcade was about to arrive!!! But. . . nothing happened. I continued to wait. It wasn't until a tranny in oversized sunglasses and sauntering up Post declared to the world "He already in tha building, y'all!" that I gave up hope, hopped on my bike, and sped off into the gathering twilight. I knew this would be the closest I would ever come to seeing Obama.
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