[photo from the Las Vegas Sun]To see Our Favorite President Ever, we drove down to the Strip at the time of day when traffic is at its most snarled. If you have never been to the Strip, you haven't missed much, in my opinion, though you must understand that mine is by far the minority opinion, not enough to show up as a sliver in the pie chart; if you have, you know how the cars crawl along at the pace of cars in midtown Manhattan at dusk, a pace that inspires one to abandon cab and walk instead.
The traffic was even worse than usual because of the presence of Our Favorite President Ever. The entrance to Caesar's Palace was blocked off with orange cones. In the big driveway were protesters holding up their hand-lettered signs with mottos like Honk if I'm paying your mortgage! and some nastiness against gay marriage.
Once we got to Caesar's Palace, however, it was so strange. Casinos have this otherworldly atmosphere, as if there is nothing else in the world except the lights and the ringing of slot machines and the clinkings of glassware and the constant chatterings of voices and the smell of smoke and beer and too much perfume and cologne. And all the people--people in khaki shorts and tank tops, or all dressed up in short shiny dresses and metallic spike heels-- seem as if they are being invisibly herded in this direction or that.
In any case, we found the ticketholder line, and it was moved along efficiently--they're accustomed to dealing with crowds--and soon we found ourselves through security and at our seats.
You know from having seen him on television that Our Favorite President has an easy, charming way about him. It was clear that no one was there to see Sheryl Crow or Bette Midler, though everyone did clap very politely each time their names were mentioned. A handful of people seemed wildly enthusiastic about Harry Reid. But, really, the star was Our Favorite President Ever.
Our Favorite President Ever, and hope realized. He had a lot against him on his path to where he is now. But what you could feel in that crowd more than anything--more than admiration, more than love--was simply joy. Mixed with a bit of pride, of course. Because that is one of the fundamentally delightful traits about this man, is that he includes you--yes, you!--in the accomplishments, he tells you that he is where he is because you helped him get there, and now that he is there, well, look at all the wonderful things that we are going to accomplish together.
P.S. I would like to offer a correction to the information provided in this L.A. Times blog: the price of the tickets was not $250 across the board, but ranged from $50 (where we sat, up in the mezzanine) to $250 (down in front). For a lot more, some People of Big Wallets also got to attend a reception and meet Our Favorite President in person, but it goes without saying that we did not avail ourselves of that opportunity.
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