Diary of a Convention: Part II (a confession)

I do have more to say about this wild week of DNC-ness (can I admit that I might sort of miss the craziness of having the DNC around? that's not the confession, however), but I feel I must first get this off my chest... because all the people I know who are more Obama-obsessed than I am will eventually find out, and then they will be horrified, and some may wish to strangle me, and so I'd rather they find out whilst not in the same room as me.

I passed up a chance to go see Obama's acceptance speech tonight.

(Pause for shocked gasps.)

I mean, it's not like there were tickets just sitting there and weren't going to be used if I didn't go. At 2:30 today (yeah, they advised people to already be in the security line by 2:00) there were 2 tickets magically appearing in our office, and 3 interested co-workers. At first, I was going to put my name in for a chance at one of the two, but then relented. After all, the other two are the most Obama-crazed people I know (see an earlier post on Obama fans; one helped inspire those feelings). The crushed look on either of their faces had they not been selected to go would have been horrible. I knew they'd want it more, not just to be a part of history, but because they may have secretly had on "Barack Star" tees under their shirts. (My teasing is directed more at Obama fans in general than at these two, mind you; I'm glad they got to go.)

I also wished them off with the condition that the rest of us please not have to hear ever detail giddily re-hashed all day tomorrow. At least one agreed.

Then there was the thought of standing in a 6-hour security line, which reportedly stretched a mile and a half at times. And the thought of the who-knows-how-long journey home afterwards (84,000 people and ALL of them took public transportation to get there. Oy to the vey). Beyond all that, though, I had a house to clean. A very dear friend of mine is coming to visit for the long labor day weekend, and there were boxes and messes and all sorts of things threatening to cause injury or discomfort, which I wished to clean up on this, my last day prior to his arrival.

So you may weep and gnash your teeth, and wish that you were in my place, for surely, you may think, you would have made the right decision and taken those 2-out-of-3 odds for a ticket, crushed co-workers be damned.

But you weren't here. And while I can't for the rest of my life say, "I was there," what I can at least say is, "I turned down the chance to be there".... which is still more than you can say.

(so there.)