Presidential Visit

I heard on the radio this morning that President Obama is going to be in Boulder this evening. They said he's campaigning for the youth vote by promising them cheaper student loans as part of his overall "Let's have taxpayers pay for stuff that isn't viable in the marketplace" program. If he's smart, he'll also promise he'll legalize marijuana and phase out automobiles in favor of skateboards.

He's staying overnight in our fair state. And that reminds me of a story:

The late 1970s were interesting times. John Bonham was still alive, Michael Jackson was still black, and martial arts movies had taken the country by storm. My good friend Steve Smith was what we called an "early adopter", meaning that he was one of the first to latch onto whatever fad was coming into fashion. He's the guy who would buy a Betamax while all the prudent people would wait for VHS. He would pay $500 to have the latest new electronic calculator, when everyone else would buy the same model a few months later for $100. While most of us bought cars like Pintos and Camaros, Steve bought an Italian sports car and Italian leather racing gloves. We may not have looked cool, but we got where we were going -- while Steve spent a fortune having his piece-of-crap Alpha Romeo towed to gas stations because it wouldn't run. (He looked great standing beside the road, though.)

Anyway, Smitty was also a voracious absorber of cultural trends, and when the Kung Fu craze arrived, he immediately adopted the persona of Kwai Chang Caine. (OK, sometimes he was a ninja, or perhaps a samurai...but if a situation called for a menacing pose or an accented philosophical platitude, Steve was definitely our man.)

Our story begins when Smitty learned that President Carter was staying at a hotel in downtown Denver. Being in the neighborhood, our hero decided that it would be interesting to go visit the fellow. Many of you may not know this little fact, but to be recognized as a legitimate groovy Italian sports car driver, you must first take an oath to be supremely cool at all times. This means that you MUST don the leather gloves, even for trips to the Circle K. If the top is down and the temperature below 21°C (69.8°F for you non-European peasants), you MUST wear a scarf. If you wear a hat, it MUST be tilted to a precise angle, and your shoes MUST be shined. Etc etc. This means that carrying your wallet in a back trouser pocket is quite forbidden, because then your posture would be off kilter by just enough to ruin your totally-hip sports car driver image.

Ergo, Steve did as he had always done -- he put his wallet in the glove box to ensure perfect driving posture. As he pulled up to Carter's hotel, he knew he wasn't planning to buy anything -- he was just making a visit -- so he left the wallet in the car. As he entered the hotel, he noticed a couple of dark-suited and stoic looking fellows in the lobby, and assumed they were Secret Service. They glanced at him, but he used his ninja skills to appear innocent as he stepped onto the elevator, alone.

A little experimentation showed that the elevator was programmed to skip floors 7, 8, and 9. Therefore, Steve figured, the Prez was likely on the eighth floor. The only logical course of action was to go down to 5, get off the 'vator, and try the stairwell. And sure enough, the door to the stairs was unlocked. As silently as he could, he eased the door open, slipped through, and gently closed it behind him.

He expected to find the doors to the 3 forbidden floors locked, and wasn't planning to do anything but go up and then back down. But since this was a mission of reconnaissance, he saw no reason not to apply his ninja stealth skills to the operation. He took off his Italian sports car driving shoes, assumed the "silent sloth" pose, and proceeded to carefully and quietly ascend the stairs on all fours.

It was slow going, but patience is among the ninja's most prized virtues. Inch by inch, step by step, our hero made his way silently upwards.

Unfortunately, he learned that it doesn't matter how quiet you are when the Secret Service agents are standing right there in the stairwell. When Steve peered around the rail to look at the next landing, he couldn't help but notice the .38 pointed directly between his eyes.

The agents promptly hustled him into one of the hotel rooms and began the interrogation. Knowing he was innocent of any intent to harm the President, and having a spotless academic and legal record, Steve at first enjoyed the process. It seemed like a bit of a lark, getting to hobnob with actual top-drawer government agents. He figured he'd be released in a few minutes and allowed to go on his way.

But his wallet was in the car.

He began to think about the situation from the perspective of the G-men. Here you have a kid without ID, creeping up the stairs like an Asian, claiming to have a 100% generic name like "Steve Smith"...well, what would YOU think? It certainly would look at least a little suspicious. So it was at this point (about an hour into his confinement) that he began to feel a bit less ninja-like, and a bit more like someone who could easily be made to disappear. He had told no one what he was doing; if these guys truly thought he was a threat, he began to believe that they could make it so he never again saw the light of day.

Fortunately, since he was telling the entire truth, his story remained consistent with each repetition. And I suspect the agents were good enough judges of personality to recognize that he was indeed just some trend-driven doofus who watched too much television and sometimes got lost in the land of make-believe. They eventually escorted him back to the Alpha, verified his identity and his squeaky-clean police record, and let him go.

Strangely, though, he held onto the stupid car for a couple more years. And he still wears leather gloves when he drives. But to the best of my knowledge, Steve has never again crawled up a hotel stairwell when the leader of the free world was staying there.

Of course, I don't know what his plans are for this evening...

So, that's the story. I hope you've learned a few lessons, such as: Don't mess with the guys with badges, don't forget your wallet if you're playing ninja, and for goodness sake, don't buy European vehicles.

Anyway, thanks for listening to my tale. If you see Steve, be sure to ask him for additional details...or about one of his many other daring adventures. He'll be happy to tell you. Have a great day!