Thursday, June 01, 2006

Well, here is a nice visual treat for You - Yours Truly plus Mr. Chairman Denny Farrell of the Shiney Apple as well as the Empire State Capitol. Note how YT is showing a bit of meager cleavage. And do note the lapel pins that I and Mr. Chairman Denny Farrell are wearing, the little rectangles depicting an enamelized NYS. This pin meant that anywhere YT wished to roam she could, with impunity. Backstage to grab a shot of Bill + Hill, no problem. The downstaters were not impressed, nor should they have been, with the state of the Middling City's downtown. No plethora of WelcomeDelegates signage, floral plantings in front of buildings, a sense that things were tidy. The VIP delegation I rolled with commented upon the lack of pedestrians, lack of cabs (I told them that I tip people who wish to taxi anywhere that they allow a good hour), lack of a bon vivant vibe. I found Andrew Cuomo surprisingly real, watching him at a few tent soirees mingling with ease, and the way he adores his three daughters for real. I dubiously watched Hill hold a small snowglobe aloft with a buffalo inside it as she told the tale of a maid at The Mansion who took good care of her. No name to fact check. I told one of the Chairman's handlers, one of three Franks, that I found the story not only smarmy but questionable. He noted that a few years ago she would have remembered the name of the maid. If there was a maid. Despite this vibe I will still vote for her. I kept my last Hillary sign which I had inside my window so it would not get swiped in the night. Eliot Spitzer, as I already knew, is a keeper, is a charmer, is as real as Cuomo. He unabashedly left a fundraiser to return to the hockey game he was missing. One of the most notable happenstances that happened to YT was suddenly being sprawled upon the dirty carpet of the Hyatt Regency Grand (in quotes) Ballroom, after a tiny Chinese lady with giant round specs plowed into me as she ran for the stage at top speed. She got tangled up in my right leg and kaboom, we were both on the ground, her head nearly landing in the center of the drumkit that had been in use by the gospel choir that got things rolling on DemCon Day 2. The little Chinese lady and I were both lying there, I immediately worrying about the cam. She got up, never looking behind her, and showed up on stage alongside the Dem committee secretary in moments. I got scooped up by a giant delegate. In a short while I was laughing uproariously about the collision with some security men who had witnessed the entire impact, them telling me to keep a healthy distance from them. Ironically enough, and I always dig the big I, I bumped into the little Chinese lady later as we both whirled around in the revolving doors and THEN the following morning as I departed from the parking garage. There she was, walking down the sidewalk. And, when she saw me, her mean and pinchy eyes glared serious hatred. For she believes that I sort of tripped her unintentionally, that my foot was jutting out unreasonably far from my body. She told one of the security men this.
The balloon drop was a flop. The coffee was all bad. The hours were all long. But mostly it was fun, educational in some ways, adrenalizing.
Time to leave my secret corner of the teahouse and the orbit of happy vibes and to depart for the happy vibes of the little, woman-owned and women-run Italian joint not too far from here. And then more edits. And then more edits.

Edit, Love, Edit Love.

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