Fans of Where's Waldo, try: Where's Scott McClellan

It looks like the back of peoples heads, but it sounds like Scott McClellan and smells like armpits.

Earlier this week I was looking through my NFT (Not For Tourists) Travel Guide for DC and realized that the bookstore Politics & Prose is not far from my new apartment. I know of this popular local store from watching BookTV on C-Span2. They host many book signings with famous (and infamous) authors. It was not until yesterday that I realized it was so close to me, and discovered some interesting events on their website.

Tonight the bookstore hosted former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan, currently promoting his Bush-bashing memoir, What Happened. The event was packed, as you can see from the picture. I could see nothing, but I wasn't missing much. He had a microphone so I heard all I needed to hear. It was a miserably hot day and the place was so full that an employee began to turn people away right at 7pm because it was dangerously full. Eventually she let people in and had them file against the walls to leave the center path open. It was a fiasco. A very hot, sweaty, body-odory fiasco.

I left early so I'm not sure how long McClellan spoke. After about 45 minutes the heat got to me and my eyeballs were sore from repeatedly rolling toward the back of my head. It was difficult for me to stand and listen silently. Along with rolling my eyes, I was biting my tongue to avoid outbursts like, "Why Now?" and "Yeah, No Shit!" to McClellan stating the obvious. I was holding a glass bottle and had to put it down. I was so frustrated, I was afraid the beverage container would shatter in my hand from pressure. Listening to Scott McClellan was a lot like listening to Roger Clemens at the baseball steroid hearing. Just another Good Ol' Boy from Texas who trusted the wrong person.

Yuck.

It was difficult enough to hear McClellan talk about himself and how wonderful he is, but the real frustration came from the reaction of the crowd. Most of the people around me seemed to be listening patiently (at least their backsides suggested an attentive stature) and I saw no one close to reaching their boiling point the way I was. I looked around, desperately finding someone with whom to exchange a knowing glance. I did not find that person.

After speaking for a half hour, McClellan received a loud round of applause and some outbursts with an excited "Woot!" here and there in the crowd; he then took questions from the audience. I only stayed for three questions, but they were mostly statements and random Bush bashing. People love to hear themselves talk, and I realize the desperation that many people feel when it comes to the political climate in this country. It goes beyond that though, people really seem to like this guy. I don't get it. Most of what he said about Washington culture and the Bush administration was obvious. He spoke of himself as if he were so far above it, and so disturbed about the Iraq War and the outing of Valerie Plame. He even went on about how he feels that the death penalty is immoral and how he struggled with his personal feelings when he worked for Bush. I think listeners felt really sympathetic toward him, but I don't get it. McClellan started working for Bush in 2000. Bush was the king of executions when he first ran for president. This was something the Democrats brought up repeatedly in the 2000 campaign. Was McClellan on Prozac for six years? Did he cry himself to sleep every night working for this horrible man named Bush? It just doesn't add up.

As far as I can tell, McClellan isn't getting too much scrutiny because people are actually relieved that someone finally validated their suspicions about Bush. So, the former Press Secretary writes a book and the American public tells him to say Two Hail Mary's and four Our Fathers and he's absolved of any guilt. I guess I'd make a crappy priest (too many x chromosomes anyway) but I can't just pat this guy on the back when he was complicit the whole time. Frankly, I'm a little disgusted that he's suddenly discovered his conscience several years and over 4,000 military casualties later. He finally reveals his inside information about the Bush White House, not for the good of the country, but to sell his book.

Yuck.

So, between the rolling of eyes, the boiling of blood pressure, and the gamy smell of an overly packed room in 100 degree heat, I left the event early. I figured I'd hear what he had to say when he testifies in front of Congress. I hope he took some direct questions after I left; but while I was there - everyone seemed pretty pleased with what Mr. McClellan had to say. Bush bashing is a popular (but not very challenging) thing to do these days.

While I'm pretty unimpressed with the former Press Secretary, I was impressed with Politics & Prose. It's popular among the locals and has a great reputation. Next week George Will is going to be signing copies of his new book and I may have to get there in time to get a seat for that one. George Will is someone I never expected to agree with, but when I read his columns in Newsweek or see his political commentary on television, I usually end up agreeing with him. Too bad I can't afford to buy his new book. Maybe I could get him to sign my Newsweek.

The People You Meet... and Avoid

As I learn my way around DC, I feel the need to constantly keep my guard up. I try not to look vulnerable when I make stupid mistakes - like waiting for the Metro to arrive for fifteen minutes, only to realize that I was waiting for the wrong train. That's what happened on Tuesday night. I was waiting for the Red Line to Glenmont. I live on the NW side of DC and Glenmont is Northeast in Maryland. So, I was on the right line, but headed in the opposite direction. And it took me a really long time to figure that out. So, when the wrong train arrived, I just joined the herd of people exiting that train, and walked inconspicuously over to the other side of the Metro station. I'm so smooth. It's not easy - I go to great lengths to look like I know where I'm going.

So, I may be smooth but my timing sucks. I was too late and had to wait another 15 minutes for my train. So, I walked to the other side and sat down on one of the two benches they kindly provide for their hundreds of thousands of customers each weekday. As I was reading my copy of Express (which I receive from a kind man in a bright yellow vest every morning) I had an eerie feeling like I was being watched. I looked up and saw a white haired old man in the middle of the station looking in my direction. I didn't feel threatened or anything like that - he was old and carried a cane. I think I could take him, but I would never have to, the station was very busy by this time. But I'm new to the city so I've always got my guard up.

I kept reading, but watching the old dude out of the corner of my eye. He was inching toward me ever-so-slowly. I look up, he's not moving, but he's looking right at me; I look away. I look up again and he's not moving, but he's a little bit closer and still looking right at me. It was kind of weird; like a senior citizen in stealth mode. Now I'm starting to get distracted from my paper b/c I'm thinking, "What is this guy's deal?" Is he a pervert? I'm leaning forward - is he looking down my shirt? Is he eyeballing my duffel bag? What? He keeps looking over at me!

While I was pretending to ignore him, he came up closer and was nearly standing right over me. It was time for a confrontation. He was about to invade my personal space.

I look up at him quickly and lock eyes to challenge him. I need to let him know I mean business. He speaks first: "Pardon me, but could you possibly move over a bit so I can sit down?"

Oh.

How strange.

The man with a cane was actually just a physically handicapped person who wanted to sit down in a busy station. How was I to know??

This made me realize the extent of my hyper-awareness while I'm on my own out here. It's all about me. I was so busy trying to figure out what this guy was up to that I didn't even notice the obvious. I felt like a total jerk.

For now, I think I'm still better off in my hyper-aware state than to just assume every old man is just a nice but weary traveller in need of help. Once I feel confident that I know my way around I'll let my guard down a bit and perhaps stay out by myself later than 10pm. But while I'm still learning the bus schedule and the Metro lines, I'm afraid a few senior citizens may fall victim to my vigilance.

Don't Do Delta

I'm back home in DC after my long week. I still have two apartments - one in DC and one in Coralville, both are barely habitable. I've been going at full-speed, racing around non-stop since about March and I finished it off with a horrendous trip tonight. As I write this it's nearly 2am here and I've only been home for about a half hour. My plane was supposed to arrive at 10:10. Well, I suppose it probably did arrive on time, I just wasn't on it.

After meticulous planning, I booked an afternoon flight out of Moline, without arriving back in DC too terribly late; I do start my job at 9am tomorrow (today!) So, I went with a Delta flight out of Moline (departing 4:35pm) to Atlanta, then Atlanta (departing 8:20) to DC with a layover of just under an hour. I knew there was trouble when I looked out the window in Moline. Instead of boarding the flight at 4:05, the plane was just pulling up and people were getting off the plane when I should've been getting on. We took off more than 30 minutes late and pulled into Atlanta at 8:00. The woman next to me had a connecting flight to Birmingham leaving at 8:15 and my departure to DC was 8:20. We got nervous around 7:30 and asked the flight attendant (or hostess or whatever the hell they call them these days) for more information. She couldn't tell us where our gate was, couldn't tell us if our flights were on time, her only advice: "Run!" and she asked the rest of the passengers to let us get off first. That was nice.

So, run I did. From the far end of terminal D to the opposite end of terminal A. That's not quite the full length of the airport, but pretty darn close. It was 8:05, I pushed through the airport with my carry-on bag spanking my backside with every stride. The bag started to rip, I didn't care - just grabbed the entire end of it and ran, Forrest ran.

I walked up to the terminal at exactly 8:20, thrust my boarding pass at the person behind the counter, and she couldn't care less. She said, "It's gone. You have to go to the ticket counter."

I was wearing layers of clothing, sweating and panting after running for my life through the airport, and she couldn't even tell me where the ticket counter was. When I finally wheezed the question at her, another guy told me it was at the other end of terminal A. Of course it was. Why would it be any closer?

So, I walked up to that counter and explained the situation between puffs off of my inhaler. She said I was on a waiting list for the next flight out at 9:40, if I couldn't get on they'd put me in a hotel and I'd catch the flight at 7:30 the next morning. I explained - in my not so nice voice - that I had just taken the flight attendant's advice and run the entire length of the airport because my DELTA flight was late. Meanwhile, I considered how I would explain to my boss that I had to call in on my first day of work and because I was in Atlanta - even further away from DC than I was when I started! I had already been through a tearful goodbye in Moline, and this was not helping my emotional well-being. Or my lung capacity.

As it turned out, I was number 5 on the list of 11 stand-by passengers and I made it on the flight at the last minute. The 9:40 flight ended up being a 10:10 flight after delays, which brought me back to DC at midnight. I had booked a shuttle for my original itinerary, but when I called them from Atlanta they couldn't guarantee they'd still be operating that late. I was not thrilled about wandering around the airport at midnight, but there were 139 other passengers arriving with me. Luckily some of us got a shuttle from a dispatcher who appeared to be having an even worse day than I was.

I've been doing a lot of air travel lately, I've been on United, American Airlines, and now Delta. This is the first time I've had a problem. I'm glad I didn't have to stay overnight, though. That would've been horrible to call in on my first day. I think that's the key to Delta's customer service. By the time they're done screwing with you, you don't even care anymore - you're just so damn happy to be on the ground. Angie was right - I should've expected this when I found out their slogan is "Go F--- Yourself."

I'm going to catch about 5 hours of sleep then start my new job. Good night everyone. Come and visit me. Don't fly Delta.

The right foot, and the one that I started off on

Everything is coming together. I'm ridiculously busy, but completely driven to get things taken care of. When I was offered the job in DC, my new boss had wanted someone to start right away. She gave me a start date of May 30th to make sure I had enough time, but I could start sooner. Things are moving right along, I've fallen behind for finals week, but not enough to hurt my GPA too terribly much. So, I emailed my new boss today to let her know that it's impossibly ambitious, but my goal is to start work one week ahead of time.

Yeah, well... that didn't quite go over as well as I had hoped.

It's my fault for being a nimwit. First of all, I was operating under the "ASAP" timeline since my new employers have waited so long for this position to be filled. (What is it that happens when you assume?) The real reason I'm a twit is b/c I was so non-committal when I contacted her about it. If you've known me for a while, you'll know that I hate making commitments. Commitment is a four-letter word - like "death" or "marriage" it's something I try my best to avoid (despite some close calls.) So, when I sent my new employer an email that said, "I can't make a commitment and I may end up behind schedule but I'm aiming to start on the 23rd..." her response was - No problem. Since you're not sure, let's just stick with the 30th.

Wait, what?!? No! When I said, "I may end up behind schedule," what I really meant was, "I've already rented a truck, asked my friends to take time off of work, and purchased plane tickets so that I can start next week and fly back for my brother's reception."

I don't understand how this miscommunication happened.

I'm hoping that she was just being nice and saying, "Take your time, no big deal" by sticking with the 30th, but by the time I responded to her email, it was after 5pm EST, and I didn't get a response. I should've just said in the first place: Block out your calendar cuz I'm starting on the 23rd.

In my horror of waiting another week to start work, my tone was much more committal for the response email to her. I suppose I'll find out in the morning. If it turns out that I've worked my schedule toward a time that's inconvenient for my new boss, that will be a very depressing way to start off. I'll still move on the same days and fly back for Mark and Jamie's reception, I just won't be gainfully employed. The real tragedy would be having all that extra time on my hands after I've spent the last two weeks in a stress-filled and overly-ambitious rage trying to get things done and out the door early.

Ah well. Life goes on, I'll keep putting one foot in front of the other - even if they both happen to be left feet.

Fear, anxiety, excitement, jubilation... too many emoticons to describe this

I've promised so many people that I would stay in touch after I left for DC. I guess this is as good of a time as any to say it - I lied. I can't even keep in touch with you people when I'm in the same city limits. Returning phone calls, keeping in touch, remembering birthdays... I'm terrible.

So, I've started this new blog with the full intention of keeping it going while I'm living in DC so I can keep everyone up to date with all of the important events along with all of the stupid nonsense that happens in a day. Anyone who calls me their friend must be a person who truly appreciates nonsense.

So, here is my blog, DC Hawkeye. I'm nervous but I'm incredibly excited about the big move. I'm sure I'll be adding more posts after I get into the city. It shouldn't be hard to find time considering I'll have no friends within a 1,000-mile radius and all. (That's actually an exaggeration. I know two people that will be within a 500-mile radius.) In the meantime, I'm going to try to focus on actually graduating from the University of Iowa (finally!) and packing up my belongings. Well, half of my belongings actually. I'm moving from a 2-bedroom in Iowa to a studio apartment in Washington, DC. If anyone needs any home furnishings or part of my DVD collection, pretty much everything I have is for sale right now. Make me an offer.

Here are the logistics:
May 17th - 9am graduation, later that evening Graduation & Bon Voyage party at the Bier Stube in Moline.

May 18th - Nurse hangover, take lots of Advil, pick up moving truck in Iowa City and load it up. Angie and I will leave for DC in the afternoon.

May 19th through the 22nd - Details still somewhat murky, but segways will be involved if Angie has anything to say about it. (she does.)

May 24th - Angie and I fly back to the Quad Cities because she lives there & my brother's wedding reception is that weekend.

May 28th - Start my new job.