Bill Clinton came to Independence last night, a local high school. My family, Democrats all, made plans to rendezvous for the event. My niece and I would go early to stake out a place in line. My sister, brother-in-law, and nephew would pick up Mom and Dad and arrive closer to time for the doors to open. We'd connect via cell phone.
Meg and I got there shortly after 5:00 pm. Stood outside in line until the doors opened shortly before 6:30. We scooted into the gym and found seats on the top row of bleachers, where Mom and Dad would be able to rest their backs on the wall. Debbie helped Dad up the stairs, and he made it without any problem. Mom practically bounced up the steps.
There was a family in front of us, a youngish Hispanic man and woman with a babe in arms and a little girl who looked to be 5 or 6. The little girl wanted a Hilary sign so badly. Someone finally got hold of one and handed it back to her. She stood with that sign over her head, dancing with joy, until her father made her sit down. When I realized he didn't want to block my view, I leaned over and told him not to worry. "She's from the first generation of little girls to see a woman run for president. Let her hold up her sign."
The little girl stood on the seat, holding her sign over her head. I'm undecided about my vote so far, but I have to say it was thrilling to see the possibility.
A few minutes to 7:00. Suddenly, I knew I was going to be sick. I grabbed my stuff, told my niece not to worry about me, and ran to find a bathroom.
The Secret Service was clearing the hallway when I got back there. A serious looking guy with an earpiece and a bulge under his shoulder that had to have been a gun told me I could use the bathroom, and then took a position outside the door.
There I was, gut convulsing from diarrhea, desperately trying not to barf, eyeing the little Kotex container in case I couldn't prevent it. All the while, I could hear the Secret Service guy pacing outside the bathroom door. Yeah. Good times.
Finally got myself together enough to get out of there and flee--and I mean flee home. Didn't hear a word of Bill's speech. Didn't even catch sight of the man.
I feel fine this morning. Talked to Mom a little while ago. She got to shake Bill's hand. All's well that ends well, but I sure wish I'd gotten to hear Bill speak.
11 comments:
OK, WHAT is up with that timing? There has to be some significance, but I'll be damned if I can find it!
GLAD you are feeling better, but SO sorry you missed the fun! Nice to know you had the very best security money can by while you were sick. I guess?
love.
Sorry to hear you're I'll, kid. Make sure you rest today. I know how much you like vomiting.
Sorry you missed it Jerri, sorry you got sick.
I heard Bill speak years ago on his first campaign tour. He's quite a charismatic man! I also got to be part of a team of chefs that cooked for Hillary with the SS leaning over us the whole time. That was years ago.
Wild to think there might be the possibility of a woman pres, but that Barrack now...he's something to see too!
Feel better!
Big bummer, Jerri. I'm so sorry you were sick. And really sorry you missed Bill. I loved the conversation you had with the dad of the little girl with the sign. That is cool!
Yeah, liked the part about the little girl. And so sorry you missed it. I almost got to see Bill once, but it didn't work out.. Would be fun. I'm not totally decided on this election either, it's a tough one.
Holy crap, Jerri. That kind of reminds of the fish pancake Dave got on Friday night. Let me explain: we met up with my father and brother at a new restaurant that just opened up only to find out the wait was 25 minutes. Oliver hadn't napped that day, so he wasn't a candidate for waiting anywhere. We reconvened at our town's most famous dive, the place that's really only good to go to for breakfast.
Dave ordered this breakfast trio thing, and ordered an extra pancake on top, which never arrived. When he brought it up to the waitress she kind of gave him a hard time, left our table abruptly to check her till, then came back and announced she'd have the cook make another one. A few minutes later the pancake arrived, flecked with what I thought was blueberries (they weren't blueberries). Dave said it tasted like fish, had my father try it, and my father agreed.
We came home, put the kids to bed, watched a crazy French silent vampire movie from the 20's and then Dave fell asleep on the couch. I went to bed, and when he got up the next morning he told me he'd woken up in a cold sweat, crawled to the bathroom, puked, and then came to bed.
So. Not really the same as getting sick during a Bill Clinton speech, but still, kind of sudden and weird like your experience Saturday night.
(And? Longest. Comment. Ever.)
I saw Bill when I was a reporter in DC. It was early. A democratic debate before he was president. I'd never even heard of him before, but in that room...no other candidates existed. He was electric. Charasmatic.
Lewinsky didn't have a prayer. Not a prayer.
Though I must admit, he disgusts me a bit now. (Not enough to make me poop though).
Oh you poor dear! Stomach issues - a horrible nightmare. Stomach issues in public - my worst nightmare. I do hope you're feeling better.
Love.
Ick. At least you aren't writing that you got to shake his hand and then throw up on his shoe.
The Secret Service might have arrested you.
STILL love Bill....
Love you too.
Suzy
Political gatherings make me sick too.
Oh no! That SUCKS. That would have been something to see him speak. Awww!
LOL at Michelle. Pft! ;)
:)
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