Kerry-Edwards Rally, Part III

The motorcade snaked its way out the back exit of the airport. I was surprised at the stop-and-go nature of it at the start: I thought these things floor it and never stop. Once we got on the open road things picked up, however.

We weaved through traffic on I-540, sometimes getting cut off by a truck or van who assumed the motorcade had passed. Part of that was the fault of Wade our driver, who was more interested in chatting (or posing for pictures) than he was driving, it seemed. (Part of the blame is mine for chatting with him and taking pictures. Heh.) By the time we got to the Harrison Avenue exit, the highway patrol motorcycle cops were stopping traffic on the ramps to let us go by. Traveling in a motorcade makes you feel like royalty!

We pulled onto Hillsborough Street and approached the university, the site of the rally. A handful of protesters stood on the corner to greet us. Now, I wasn’t around to see the protests against Bush last week, but I’m betting they were a bit more clever than the handful of men shouting “loser!” I got them on videotape, though, and the footage became an instant highlight.

The van stopped in the staff parking lot. I marveled at how we could park there, since the threat of getting my car towed in my student days remained in my mind. I also noticed how lucky we were to be in the motorcade: twenty-five thousand people sat jammed together in the sweltering heat for three hours before we got there. We just hopped out of our air-conditioned van and walked right up.

We walked past dozens of security people looking board and continued up to the rear of the stage. There were people in the courtyard as far as the eye could see. Like one half of Carter-Finley Stadium on the ground. It was an amazing sight.

A staffer lined us up to go on stage. We were each given water bottles to help combat the heat. We waited for a break in the speeches to go on stage.

The staffer saw us taking pictures. “Hey, you have to keep your cameras down!” he said. “No taking pictures onstage.” As you can see from the gallery, that rule quickly went out the window. I mean, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be invited back anyway, so why not capture the moment? I wound up taking my shots in-between the speeches, too, when most people’s attention was elsewhere.

Soon we were hustled up to the stage. Ours would be second row! It took some shuffling of people before we were made room, but eventually we all got up there. The stops and starts were like musical chairs, and I couldn’t believe my luck once the “music” stopped.

I was standing directly behind Dean Smith!

Dean Frickin’ Smith. One of the most respected people in the state. Certainly one of the most recognizable. Dean could wander into practically any home in North Carolina and be welcomed in for dinner. A basketball legend. And I was right behind him. Damn! I reached down to shake his hand.

On my way to Dean, I had passed some other politicos: Eric Miller Reeves, former Raleigh City Council member and current state senator. Behind him was Charles Meeker and his wife. And also right in front of me was U.S. Senate candidate Erskine Bowles. Man, my head was turning!

Dean and Erskine would speak to each other every now and then. Mostly, Dean spent the time fidgiting and sweating. His shirt was thoroughly soaked in sweat. I felt sorry for the old guy.

During a lull in the program, I leaned forward to him and remarked “Hey, coach, I guess you’ve done a lot of sweating on this campus during your career, huh?”

Dean answered sheepishly “It’s because I’m out of shape.” I was making a reference to the great UNC-NCSU basketball games played here, but it went right over his head. I decided against a followup question.

After a little while, Dean began looking around behind him. At first I thought he had dropped something or was looking for his water. He turned and asked me if he could sit down.

Hell, you’re Dean Smith, I thought. You can sit anywhere you please. “Sure,” I answered, and made room for him.

“I’ve got bad knees,” he told me as he rested a bit.

His wife began to fan him with a campaign sign, so I decided to join in, too. After a moment, Dean motioned for his wife to stop fanning, after which I followed suit.

Then it occured to me that with Dean sitting down, I was effectively in the front row! I began to sweat even more. There are hundreds of cameras pointed in my direction, I thought. I sure hope my fly isn’t open!

The candidates soon made their way to the stage, amidst lots of cheering. Quite a few times, one or both of them would look at Erskine and mouth words to the effect of “let’s meet after the rally.” It almost seemed like they were talking to me, as close as I was to Erskine. A bit surreal.

Edwards took the stage and had the crowd pumped up. Around this time, Erskine turned to Dean and said “I don’t know how he does it.” In fact, I heard that refrain many times that day. Edwards really knows how to work a crowd.

Then, finally, the rally ended. Kerry and Edwards went to the fence to shake hands. The crowd cheered as if he was some sort of rock star.

We stood on the risers, waiting to get down. The Secret Service was keeping us there while Kerry and Edwards shook their hands. Eventually, we filtered down to ground level. The vets met up beside the stage, but I decided to look for a roomier place to wait around. Without knowing, I stepped though a gate that prevented me from returning. An agent politely but firmly told me I would have to wait. So I stayed right on the other side of the fence from the vet group, not wanting to miss my ride back to my car.

When the all-clear signal was given, we walked back up to our vans. A campus police officer walked up to us and began to wave us off. An approaching agent threw up his hands, motioning that the perimeter had been released. With that, the police officer relented.

Wade had been waiting around by the van. Once we were inside, he told us he had seen us on the television when he waited in the Hillsborough Street shops during the speeches. He quizzed us for our impressions of the event.

Then it was back to the airport to go. Wade dropped Jack and Beth off at the terminals and drove Grier and me back to our cars at the hanger. The thunderstorm which had rumbled a bit during the rally began to get serious now. It opened up completely just after we were safe inside our respective cars. I drove back to the lakehouse to finish out my weekend.

Looking back on it, I am still amazed that in the span of a week (actually, less than a week), I could find myself face-to-face with so many important people. Totally bewildering, but also fun as hell!

Something that concerned me before the rally was the large time commitment it would take. I was worried I’d be bored. I needn’t have worried, because I wound up enjoying every minute of my bizarre but fortuitious situation. If I ever face 25,000 people again at a political rally, I’ll have a little idea about what it feels like.

Next month I fully expect to win the lottery.