Surrounded by the Secret Service

So did I mention that Sarah Palin said hello to me a couple of weeks ago? No? Well, let me remedy that.

Our office in Manchester is in a building that is adjacent to the Radisson hotel, with a conference/convention center attaching them, so we never even had to walk outside to get to and from work. After finishing our meetings on Wednesday the 15th, we all headed back to the hotel, where we planned to drop off our computers, briefcases and whatnot, then meet in the lobby before walking to a local restaurant. Upon reaching the hotel, we found the lobby filled by well-built guys with lapel pins and ear pieces. We gave a bellman a questioning look and he explained that Governor Palin was giving a speech in the hotel ballroom later and would be spending the night.

All of us, no matter our political opinions, found this to be incredibly cool. I mean, I work in the insurance industry in Kansas, so there are limited opportunities for me to rub elbows with any famous person, let alone someone whose face has been plastered all over my television for the past two months. And it’s not like Manchester, New Hampshire is a likely spot to run into a world-famous politician when no primaries are being held.

Anyway, we all proceeded with our plans, wondering if we’d run into the Governor sometime during the evening. I walked to the elevators and ended up sharing one with a Secret Service agent. That was a really strange new experience, I must say. Here I am, just about the most benign-looking, milquetoast dude alive, and yet I found myself worrying that if I looked at the guy the wrong way I’d find myself in a holding cell an hour later, answering questions about God knows what. It didn’t help that the guy was massive, every bit of 6’4″ and 250 pounds. So I rode that elevator in complete silence, staring at nothing but the floor indicator until the doors opened. When they did, I jumped about three feet when the guy said, “Have a nice night, sir.”

“You too,” I replied, as suavely as possible given the beads of sweat on my forehead.

So I dropped off my stuff and freshened up, then headed back to the elevators to meet everyone downstairs. I didn’t know it at the time, but I must have got the last operating car, because as soon as I reached the lobby, a different Secret Service agent stepped into the elevator with a hotel employee and shut it down. I saw my colleagues a few feet away and joined them, at which point we all started speculating. That lasted about 60 seconds before yet another agent came up behind us and asked us to move. To his credit, he was remarkably polite about it.

“Could you folks please step that way a few feet?” He indicated the front desk area as he gave us a smile. “We just need a little bit of room here.” Nice guy. So we all slid that way about ten or fifteen feet, turned back to the elevators and, sure enough, out pops Governor Palin, surrounded by staffers and a wall of agents.

My first thought was shared by every single person in our group; “Wow, she’s tiny.” She was whisked around a corner and out of sight within ten seconds, but it was long enough for all of us to note that she can’t be more than 5’3″ and 110 pounds. She wears some serious high heels that make her look taller on television, but in real life she looks about four inches shorter and fifteen pounds lighter than my 12-year old son.

After the elevators were operational again and the rest of our party joined us, we headed out for dinner. Needless to say, the Palin sighting became the topic of conversation for most of the night. We wrapped things up and were just re-entering the lobby as 9:00 PM Eastern time was approaching, which happened to be the time the final McCain-Obama debate was taking place that night in New York. We all stood around the lobby for a few moments saying goodbye, and before we could move the place was swarming with agents again. One stood directly behind me, causing me to take my hands out of my pockets before he asked me to. Within 30 seconds, the Governor came around the corner headed for the elevators. She saw us, a group of about a dozen people, and waived. “Hi guys,” she called over to us before hopping into an elevator. We all waived back, me in a way that wouldn’t make the agent behind me get any bad vibes about me.

Later that evening, I went to get some ice and had to ride the elevator again to do so because the hotel only had ice machines on odd-numbered floors and my room was on eight. When the elevator arrived, it was crammed full of Secret Service agents, and I was certain every one of them was wondering why I was riding the elevator with an empty ice bucket. I noticed that “3” was already selected, so I just rode down to that floor rather than make waves by stopping on seven. I filled up my ice bucket and hit the elevators again to go back up. It arrived and, sure enough, a different mass of Secret Service agents were crammed inside, only this time I was sure they were going to ask me what I had in my bucket besides ice. It was all pretty unnerving.

The lobby was still swarming with Secret Service the next morning, including a bomb-sniffing dog that I was terrified would mis-identify something in my bag and cause me to be dogpiled by a dozen agents. I was greatly relieved when he just chugged right on by me without a second sniff.

Seriously, all of the agents I encountered were exceedingly polite and professional, and they exuded an air of complete competence. The made a fabulous impression, even as they were intimidating the hell out of me.