Monday, July 26, 2004

"It's upstairs on the Mezzanine Level."
Posted by ekdurand@yahoo.com">Emily K. Durand at 9:30 PM -

I must have spoken that phrase about 100 times today...no, make that 300.  Starting at 8am, I directed about a zillion delegates and guests from the lobby of the Parker House to the only concievable place in the hotel where a large group could gather for a breakfast meeting, the function rooms on the Mezzanine Level.  Despite the loud, repeated directives for everyone to go up there, people just had to stop by the table and double-check: "I'm sorry, did you just say the breakfast is on the Mezzanine Level?"  "Yes, sir."  "So I need to go up to the Mezzanine Level to get breakfast?"  Long pause.  "Yes."  Sigh.

But such is the life of the early morning volunteer in the face of sleepy delegates who were out partying til the wee hours...well, until midnight, anyway, which in this town is pretty darn late.  There will be a delegate breakfast each morning, and if they continue in the same vein as today's, they will involve mountains of scrambled eggs, many rounds of applause and standing ovations (croissants in hand) for the NJ democratic faithful, and some special "surprise" guests.  This morning Maryland Senator Joe Biden appeared not quite on cue, amidst an entourage of "advance men" and various assistants. 

I'm beginning to recognize the Youthful Aide as a distinct political sub-type: they look just like the office workers on "The West Wing," with trim clothes, large leather portfolios, and battered cellphones, usually sipping from an enormous coffee and twiddling with a handheld PDA.  There seems to be a distinct lack of glamour in these jobs, although they make the most of saying things like, "I'm traveling with the Congressman this week" or "I helped (insert first name of boss here) draft her position paper on just that issue."  It seems a bit like playing dress-up, to wear a suit to run errands all day, but I think many of them have their eyes on a bigger prize, whether that's running for office themselves, or (more likely) becoming a bigwig chief-of-staff-type.  As I'm not in this for political gain, the whole Drama of the Interns provided some much-needed entertainment in the hairier moments at the front desk (like when a small-town NJ mayor and delegate "lost" his credential in the men's room).

Tonight the delegates had to make their first foray to the Fleet Center, and let it just be said that Boston might want to re-think having buildings named "Fleet Center," "Hynes Convention Center," "Boston Convention Center," and so on in the same city and in use for the same sprawling event.  I narrowly caught at least two delegates who were planning to "stroll" to what they thought was the Fleet Center, somewhere in Cambridge from where they pointed on their fuzzy little T map.  Whew.  On the downside, I think I neglected to mention to a fellow volunteer that whole get-off-the-T-and-onto-a-bus deal going on at Lechemere these days...oops.  I'm eager to hear what the delegates thought of the security checks at the Fleet -- I'm watching on TV right now, and it seems somewhat more sedate and serious than past conventions, like they've all been cowed into submission by having their water bottles seized.  I'll ask them about it at breakfast tomorrow.

PS -- Oddest request of the day: a staffer from New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson's office came by our table asking where he should deliver 200 jars of salsa, a gift to the delegation from the Gov.  I'll be passing those out at 7:30 tomorrow morning, mmmmmmmmm.

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