--- Here's the reason I missed my stalking opportunity.
Bush's motorcade left the airport around 9:07. He took the podium around 9:30.
They said the speech was supposed to start at 10:15 and was going to last until 11:15.
"Is your watch slow."
"No. We had three minutes."
"Why'd he do that? He's losing his money."
"Couldn't hold his wad? It's a common problem among middle-aged men---or so I'm told."
Dude wasn't supposed to start yakking until 10:15. I didn't get up
until 9:55. (Yes, last night was a late one. Again. Good book.) So, due
to the fact we have a President who is so punctual he's actually warped
the space-time continuum, by the time I finally clambered out of bed,
he was more than halfway through his speech. I hustled. Chatted with
husband about best place to go and find him. I threw on some jeans and
a fleece, grabbed my camera and fled. But there was a problem. Nellie
was low on gas. Sheesh. This means trip to ATM---but ATM has no cash.
Someone apparently used it to perform a overnight hostile takeover on
the Nikkei, hence no money in it first thing Monday morning. Sighing at
how the world seems to be conspiring against me, I cringe when the ATM
at the gas station busts me for $1.50 in fees, which will undoubtedly
be added to the $2.00 my bank will charge me for not using one of their
ATM's. So, I'm already down money on this venture, but I'm still going
to stalk the Prez. Things will undoubtedly get better.
Maybe. The guy who was hosting the party was listed in the Cake Eater
Community Phonebook and so I had his address. I'd pulled it up on
Mapquest, taken a good look at all the entrances and exits to their
streets, and while there were plenty of options to get to this
particular curvy suburban hell, the fastest would be to get off on 70th
Street from Hwy. 100. I was sure to see the motorcade there, right? One
in, one out? Right? Fastest way. Less chance of a moonbat encounter,
right? The husband concurred and he's always right about these things.
Wrongo reindeer.
I got on Hwy. 100 South, was chugging along nicely, and when I
approached Hwy 62---aka "The Crosstown"---there were state troopers
everywhere. They were completely blocking the westbound entrance and
just as I crossed the overpass, what to my wondering eyes should
appear? A frigging black limo, speeding west on the crosstown. I do
believe this was the lead vehicle in the motorcade. I couldn't see the
rest because a. 100 moves at a decent clip, state troopers or no state
troopers and b. I would have hit the car that was entering before me
from the eastbound side of the the crosstown if I'd slowed or pulled
over. Disaster averted.
So, the Prez is going west and will turn south. I'm heading south and
plan to turn west. We're bound to meet somewhere in the middle. Working
under this assumption, I continue along with my plan, and hope I'll
hook up with him on the other side. Nope. I wandered around curvy
suburban hell for about ten minutes, by which time, the Prez was
undoubtedly at his luncheon, and there was no chance of me getting a
glimpse of the man. I suppose I could have gone and staked out a
position for his inevitable trip back to the airport on the
crosstown---quickest way from this neck of the woods---but by that time
I decided I'd much rather go home, take a shower and put on some
underwear. Yep. You read that right. I wasn't wearing any underwear. I
completely forgot all about it when I was dressing. Amazing how I
remembered the ATM card, the camera, and the coffee the husband
lovingly put in my hand as I flew out the door, but completely
neglected to put on underwear. What the hell is wrong with me? Of
course this is the reason
I didn't see him. My underwear-less mojo was bad. The Fates said, "no,
my dear girl, you are not going to get to see the President today
because you're skivvy-less. This will teach you in the future to
remember such things."
I mean, how the hell can you argue with the Fates? Don't they have the
power to smite me or throw lightning bolts at me or have some natural
disaster strike me? I dunno, but you can see where they wouldn't have
wanted me to be anywhere near the Prez. I'm a freaking security risk.
Let me outline the scenario for you:
Underwearless Kathy---bad mojo---Fates intervene---to save GDub from my
punishment for not wearing skivvies. Quite simple, really and I can't
blame them one bit.