Blogging at the Citadel

[Editors note: I just rolled in after a four hour drive back from Charleston. I had no laptop, so during a moment of boredom, I blogged on a legal pad. This is the short post from inside the arena where Dubya spoke this afternoon.]

Dubya won't be here for another hour and a half and it looks like I picked the the wrong day to quit sniffing glue.

I'm trapped.

The Secret Service Agent said--with no amount of humor--"Once you're in, you're in." I had to go in. So, I'm in. In fact, everybody is in except Dubya. The seats are full of cadets in tight gray jackets. The media platform is groaning under the pressure of a few dozen weary reporters and photographers. Every few minutes an agent gives me a wary look, checks my press credentials, and marks me down on his mental checklist as "that guy who looks a little too average."

I AM that guy, but I'm no threat to anyone...except maybe myself.

You might expect this scene would be tense. It is the three-month aniversary of 9/11, Dubya is set to arrive soon, and I'm in a room full of young men and women with short haircuts.

The mood, however, is relaxed.

Still, you should've seen the protective detail agent jump when a cadet tripped into a stadium chair. It made a good thump and I'm fairly sure I saw the agent's holster as he opened up his jacket.

It looks like my seat for the show is in jeopady...time to secure my space.

Wonder if that agent can help?