Monday, September 17, 2012

Once in a lifetime

Having lived in Charlotte for 13 or so years now and expecting anything but the unexpected, it came as quite a shock when we were picked to host the 2012 Democratic National Convention. Never one to let an interesting experience pass me by I decided to volunteer. Around the same time, as the announcement, an old friend from high school was visiting our city and while we were catching up over breakfast one day, she mentioned the event and that she knew one of the transportation organizers, and that I should do that. Sure, I love to drive. I scheduled a way to be off for the entire week and I was excited.

Fast forward nine months and I find myself in the thick of getting everything ready. I was asked if I would be up for, and eligible, to drive in the Senatorial pool. I told them they could try but I make no promises that I would pass. But, turns out my past is either not as interesting as I have self mythologized it to be or well under the radar of law enforcement, either way, I was accepted.

The week leading up to the event I was driving staff around to do final checks and things and everything was running like a top. When we signed up for the Senate duty we were told we would get one person and be assigned to them. This turned out to not be the case, but still seemed like a cool gig.
Come Monday morning, the week of the convention, I get a call from the transport staff, asking me to cover an evening shift, since I didn't have to start my Senate driving until Tuesday. I was free-ish. I re- arranged my entire schedule. I forgot to mention that on top of this, I was playing with my usual band, Broken Napoleons, on Friday and covering the final show for a band I helped start 2 years ago but hadn't played with in a long time on Sunday. So Monday was, work, two band practices, be at the transport center by 7. Perhaps I over did it a bit. Anyway.


I get to transport and get sent off to cover for a guy who did not get his credentials on time to get into the security perimeter. He was a dedicated driver for a congressman that, all I needed to do was get him into the arena and back to his hotel that night. Easy. After I switch with the driver, my phone dies, I get there late and miss the congressman, who decided to walk, but pick up his assistant and make my way to the arena for pick up. This is when I learn the congressman needs to be picked up at 6:30 the next morning and there is no way the other guy is going to have his credentials by then. I am a sucker, and feel like this is what I signed up for so, I say yes. The other driver should be good to go by 9am and I have to be at the Senate hotel by 3pm, all is well.

Next day I pick up the congressman, Chris Van Hollen, Maryland, from his hotel and the day begins. This time everything is going ok. He and his staff are very nice and I begin to relax. Unfortunately, traffic starts to build by 9am and the city is at a standstill. Even though a lot of the big corporations in the city told their employees to stay home, a good number of people decided it wouldn't be that bad, and it wouldn't have been, if they had stayed home. By 1pm, my nerves were frayed, I was getting reminder calls from the Senate staff, I wasn't getting calls about the original driver, and I thought I was going to loose my mind. All of this was made better when the congressman said the magic words "call and make sure we can keep Kevin for the week." I had not intended to steal the congressman, but we had bonded and, as I learned, they don't deal with change well. Some calls were made and it was settled. I would stay. Later that evening, the rain started and the traffic got worse, if that's possible. While driving the congressman and his wife to and fro, we found ourselves with some down time and empty bellies. I was asked for a recommendation for a local place that was quite. Knowing we had to be back at the arena in an hour and having a need to steer clear of uptown, I took them to local favorite, Crepe Cellar. The congressman was very gracious in asking me to join them and even picked up the tab, to bad I couldn't have a drink, I needed one. So we chatted about politics and their children and soccer. That is a night I will cherish forever.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and when I finally made it home. I had a nice glass of Cognac and crashed into bed.

Wednesday and Thursday morning were fairly uneventful. Everyone stayed home, so the traffic was much better and those that did not, or could not, now knew the security routine. All was well until it was announced that they would be moving the president's acceptance speech from the Bank of America stadium, 70,000 seats, to Time Warner Arena, 20,000 seats. You do the math. The scramble was on. Thursday was a busy day for the congressman and as it got closer to the time when the president would arrive, security got tighter and tighter.

The Mrs. had taken off the entire week to avoid the madness, good call on her part, and to volunteer for Thursday at the stadium. It was the only way to guarantee seeing the speech, I would have also seen it with my credentials. With the new venue and 50,000 fewer seats all that was out the window.
I had been listening to all of the goings on at night while I waited for the congressman in the secure parking deck; It was nice up there, all the drivers hung out and gossiped we could get some reading done and maybe nap a little, all of my days started at 6am and finished after midnight, So, it didn't seem like a bad way to listen to the speech. I was closer than most people would be and could still feel the charge of the event, being within the security perimeter.

This all changed when I was told the Congressman had secured credentials for The Mrs. and I. It was crazy. I could have hugged all of them, but that would have been bad form. I finished my driving duties on Thursday with a huge grin and made plans with The Mrs. to meet up. She was told to arrive by 3pm and we would be arriving around 5pm; No one was sure how long we would have before the fire marshall shut the building down, which he had done on Wednesday by 7pm. I met up with The Mrs., we watched the speeches and took as much in as we could. I left her a couple of minuets before the president was finished, so I could be in place for the congressman down at the VIP exit. It was cool I got to see Madeline Albright, Jesse Jackson, and a host of congressmen and woman and Senators. Apparently, I also saw Jessica Alba, she looked like a hooker so I didn't notice. Well, I noticed, but not that it was her. Once in the car, the congressman and his staff wanted to blow off some steam so we headed toward the Google wrap party, picking up the congressman's friend Peter, whom I believe is a representative from Vermont, I didn't get his whole story, on the way. So we went to the Google party, with me, again, not drinking. More celebrities, the daily show cast was there, I got hit on by a very drunk girl with a heaving bosom, and an hour later we were back at the hotel making arrangements for the airport the next morning.





I picked up the congressman and Peter, who was on the same flight back to DC, and needed a lift knowing full well he'd never get a cab in the chaos of the mass exodus. Made no difference to me, I was going there anyway. I got my credentials for the week signed by the congressman and we said our goodbyes. It was something like the end of summer camp. Empty promises of keeping in touch and the like. But, you can bet I'll be in touch if I ever need a letter of recommendation.

It was a great experience, one that comes once in a lifetime, how can you pass those up.

The cherry on top for the week was playing two awesome shows.


Friday, September 14, 2012

Impromptu Bourbon Tasting

For an experiment that I will write about in a future post, I found myself in need of a drinkable yet inexpensive bourbon. My go to is usually Buffalo Trace but, with the closest liquor store being the ghetto liquor store, not that all of the liquor stores run by North Carolina are barren wasteland of mediocre swill, I found myself staring down a shelf with none to be found. So on a whim I decided not to soldier onto a different store and try some of the lesser bourbons available that have been recommended to me. Armed with the promises of one friend and one complete stranger, I picked up a bottle of Ancient Age and a bottle of Old Crow. The following tasting ensued.



I still had a little Buffalo left in a bottle, which made for a good comparison, as I drink it fairly regularly. The First up was the Old Crow; this is the cheap bourbon of choice for Will Gordon, writer of the Serious Eats Blog "Drinking from the Bottom Shelf", a hilarious blog about alcoholism. I found it a little on the sweet side with a decidedly peanut butter character to it, not unlikable or undrinkable and for $7.50 an out right steal. Ancient Age, which I have been dogged to try by my friend Mr.Ozark, was next up and fully delivered on its sour mash billing. It was quite sour actually and, like the OC, a bit one dimensional. At $14.00 I'm not sure it's worth twice the OC. We'll find out when I start making cocktails with them (a post for another time). Last came the Buffalo Trace, which I can usually pick up for around $20.00. BT is miles ahead of both of the other two in complexity, but had a mineral-y taste when compared with them. All had a pretty good nose of vanilla and oak, with the OC, again, being a tad on the sweet side. For sipping I would probably stick with something other than any of these, like the Woodford Reserve Double Oak I have in the cabinet now. However, as I mix with the other two I may find that I can save a couple of bucks. Look for that post in the near future. Next post will be my week at the DNC.

A Sia Saide

Quinn