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Article: Day in the Life: Dear (Convention) Diary

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Day in the Life: Dear (Convention) Diary

There are reasons political conventions are shown on television - normal human beings aren't really meant to go to them.  It's not even clear that average MEDIA people should go to them.  It might be no problem for Tom Brokaw and Peter Jennings, but a presidential convention is no match for those of us in the journalistic trenches.  Which is strange since Republicans estimate that there are at least 15,000 members of the working press in Philadelphia for this auspicious event. 

The obstacles to gracious living for a journalist in Philly are hidden. Arriving at the train station, you're certain to feel very, very welcome.  Everyone from Amtrak to Joe Shmo's Philly Cheese Steak shop has a sign up welcoming anyone attending the convention to the City of Brotherly Love.  It's hard to look anywhere without seeing balloons, elephants, and red-white-and-blue bunting.

So with all these "welcoming" messages you might approach the convention center with great hope-excitement even.  As a member of the press I'm used to people helping me get to where I need to be, but all those helpful public relations people evidently stayed home for the presidential convention. There are no "welcoming" signs as you approach the actual convention center (I think they forgot these at the train station). Instead, there are chain-link fences, secret service agents, and endless security checks.  The area inside the chain link fence resembles a circus, with politicians and VIPs standing in for the dancing bears and clowns. There are about four big-tops (otherwise known as "media tents") with smaller tents and trailers creating a small "media city" that surrounds the convention center. 

Inside the convention center no one knows exactly where press people are supposed to go.  The volunteer "information" helpers lack any helpful information.  One of these helpful information specialists directed me to the convention hall basement - where frantic campaign workers were passing out signs that said "Laura! Laura! Laura!" to high school kids in khaki pants and blue t-shirts.  (That would be Laura Bush.) I would have stood out, except for other clueless people wandering around looking about as lost as I was. The basement of the convention center is quite plain (if you need to know where the extra chairs are stored I would be happy to show you), and I don't recommend visiting it.

If someone's really important at the convention if they're surrounded by two types of people: men in suits talking into their sleeves and adoring Republican delegates asking for autographs and pictures.  At one point I leaned over to the woman next to me and asked who the gentleman getting his photo taken was.  "That's Jim Ryan, the Governor of Illinois," she said while looking at me as though I was the most clueless individual she had ever encountered. 

Somewhere in the delirium of going from information station to information station - I looked over to see Senator Dole.  I stood back - amazed that he looks as wooden in real life as he does on TV.  He stood there, barely moving, as he took picture with one grinning fan after another.  I resisted the urge to enter the fray and offer my camera for a quick pic and made my way to a press observation area where I could watch the convention in peace and quiet.

Late in the night, after returning to my hotel room, I turned the TV to CNN and saw the best views of the convention I had seen all day.  The delegates looked happy, waving their signs, the analysts explained everything to my poor tired head, and everyone knew exactly where they were going.