I looked forward to the best bragging rights ever to befall a political science major: I was going to the presidential debate at Washington University. In the weeks before that fateful Tuesday night, my conservative and liberal friends alike drooled over my impressive opportunity, and we all fantasized about stumping the candidates with a tough question.
The big day finally arrived, and I could hardly keep from accosting the debate volunteers to grab my pass . to the media filing center. There must be some mistake. I was supposed to be in the debate hall, rubbing elbows with the town-hall members and breathing the same air as two of the most famous men in the world. Downtrodden and disappointed, I trudged off to the gym where the media were gathered.
But, venturing into the realm of the media was an amazing look behind the scenes, and it had plenty of perks. Like all the free stuff-cloth tote bags packed with glossy debate notepads, a catered meal in the canteen and a variety of chips and soda for snacks, even bottles of Budweiser at the makeshift bar (no, I did not drunkenly wander around the filing center). My poor-college-student instinct was surprised and pleased to bag these free goodies.
Even more overwhelming, though, was the scene when we entered the actual filing center. The gym was abuzz with the din of televisions and the chatter of journalists. Rows of tables filled the floor, each seat equipped with an Internet connection and a bottle of water.
When it came time to watch the debates, I am actually thankful I wasn’t in the debate hall. Sure, I was watching it on television just like most every other American, but the environment was so much more interactive than my living room couch.
By far the best part of the evening, however, was the post-debate “spinning.” Before I could collect all my papers into my free tote bag, the room was filled with big name senators and political veterans. The journalists simply went from one to another, shoving microphones and video cameras into their faces, asking for their opinions.
To my left was Republican Governor Christine Todd Whitman, to my right Democratic Political Comedian Al Franken. Flabbergasted, I shook hands with Ed Rendell, the former mayor of Philadelphia and a big-wig in the Democratic National Committee. I think he was a bit surprised, too, seeing a wide-eyed 21-year-old in a room full of hard-nosed journalists ready to grill him. He told me to keep my enthusiasm for politics and to stay involved as a concerned citizen.
I just said thank you, with a big goofy smile.
Needless to say, I was impressed, inspired, bewildered and very, very satisfied.
Maybe I didn’t share space with the two presidential candidates, but I definitely had an exhilarating experience that gave me much more respect and understanding for the life of a journalist.
