I admit that I probably fall a bit on the left side of the political aisle. That said, my favorite part about having a Republican in office was that they never came to California and made it nearly impossible to get around town. When you know a state isn’t going to vote for you, you tend to skip them for fundraisers and speech engagements. Obama got the votes in California, so now he is in the habit of coming here, staying in Beverly Hills/Century City and working hard to stop me from getting home.
Being slow to the uptake, I didn’t realize he was in town until my fiancee tells me she has no idea how she is going to get home. I immediately think about complaining about my longer commute until I realize she is warning me that in 45 minutes, the barricades will be going up and 5:30 to 9:00 pm will be grid lock. Can I make it home from South Bay in time?
I am doing great until they decide to shut Olympic down. The east west traffic spikes and we are all stuck in a clogged colon hoping to be shit out at our destination. My reaction to traffic is usually to get angry and go rogue. I start flying through alleys in Pico-Robertson, dodging Hebrew School students and struggling actresses that couldn’t get table-waiting jobs closer to Wilshire.
I am on the phone with a co-worker who also lives in Beverly Hills. We’re like two raptors testing the electric fence. She is somewhere at Whitworth and Doheny and I am more like Whitworth and Robertson. I pull out of an alley and am shocked to find that I am somehow on a street that is closed. There are literally no other cars on the road. My heart skips a beat. I realize that infiltrating a restricted street closure in a vehicle is a really bad idea. Suddenly, two cops come sprinting for me. I pull over and shut the car off. I saw In The Line of Fire and I really don’t want to get Malkoviched right now.
I tell the cop I am an idiot and just trying to get home. He tells me I need to wait 20 minutes for Obama to pass. I keep thinking about how everyone, even cops, say Obama, not the President or Mr. President. It’s like “Kobe”. We are waiting on “Obama” or “Madonna” or “Gaga”. Anyway.
I park and get out of the car. I call my co-worker back, she’s given up and done the same. It’s clear we are all stuck south of Olympic and I might as well act twelve years old and get excited to see a bunch of cars drive by.
Some half hour later, 30 cars drive down the street. Some people cheer. Some people stand silent. Me? I start running to my car because pretty soon, everyone will be waiting to get north on Robertson.
I made it home okay, but I want to ask this question to my readers. Is it cool to have the President in town if we don’t get to see him talk and all we get is terrible traffic?