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Joshua Foer

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Posted Tuesday, Aug. 15, 2000, at 9:00 PM ET

The convention's security trailer is a 9-by-27-foot room in which my supervisors deal with the various issues pertaining to the department's hundreds of volunteers. The trailer happens to be located 15 paces (rock-throwing distance even for my grandma) from the fenced-off parking lot that is being used as the venue for the anarchist/enviro/lefty protests. As early as 7 this morning there were speakers at the podium already preaching their anti-Establishment message—but at that hour, it was to an empty parking lot. By 6 p.m., though, the lot was packed. And when the shit hit the fan a little later, there was no better vantage point to watch the rock-throwers, fire-starters, and police in riot gear than our trailer's little window. (Memo to my mom: While the violence was going down, I was safely inside the Staples Center.)

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Later, I used my security credentials—properly or improperly I'm still not sure—to get onto the floor of the convention and sit with my hometown delegation from the District of Columbia. Each of the delegates wore a T-shirt that read "Taxation Without Representation" and was printed by an organization called DCVote, which pushes for voting rights in Congress for D.C. residents. Back home in Washington I'm a volunteer for the organization and so I had brought a T-shirt with me and was wearing it under my black polo security shirt. Once on the floor I took off the security shirt and immediately was identifiable as someone associated with the D.C. Delegation. I was able to stay down on the floor with the delegates straight from Alexis Herman's speech through Bill Clinton's.

At this point in the evening I was really beginning to feel like the Zelig of the Democratic National Convention. First I was a wallflower in high-level security meetings, and now here I was, seemingly a member of the D.C. delegation. And just as the discomfort of being so out-of-place began to set in, the local ABC affiliate came down the aisle and began filming the delegation—me included. After ABC, it was two prime-time national cameras getting face shots of me during Hillary's speech. And then, as if the whole situation weren't bizarre enough already, I soon found myself doing an interview with MTV. The reporter evidently singled me out as one of the youngest people on the floor and started asking me somewhat inane questions relating to the Rage Against the Machine concert and protest going on outside just 45 feet from the security trailer. "What do you think of protesting?" she asked. My response to the question—as poorly phrased as the question itself—is now bound to run at least four times tomorrow on MTV.

But the real climax of my evening took place after the closing gavel had come down. As a staffer in the Security Department, I was given a ticket to Gov. Gray Davis' California Welcome Party held at the Paramount Studios back lot. I enjoyed the odd mix of free food and entertainment along with 7,000 to 10,000 other partygoers, who ranged from Hollywood celebs to yahoos from the Arkansas delegation, bused in from the Staples Center in a nonstop flow that lasted well over an hour. The program included Polynesian dancers, klezmer music, a hip-hop dance group, a reading of the "I Have a Dream" speech by the actor Laurence Fishburne, and extreme skateboarders, bikers, and in-line skaters performing on a half-pipe every half-hour. There were also tables upon tables of wine tastings offered by California vineyards, a rock-climbing wall, carnival games, an in-house fortuneteller, and the world's fastest painter showing off his art. Last night was basically the biggest, coolest bar mitzvah party ever thrown, and to cap everything off, Bill Clinton, the proud father of the soon-to-arrive bar mitzvah boy, even stopped by to make a speech and thank all of the out-of-town relatives.