DNC '08: What It's Really Like to Be a Credentialed Blogger at the DNC

On Monday afternoon, the first official day of the Democratic National Convention, I arrived at the line outside the security perimeter at around 3:00 pm. The Secret Service has created a wide buffer around the Pepsi Center, so credentialed entrants face a long walk down several city blocks from the first security checkpoint at the perimeter to the Secret Service search area just outside the stadium. The walk seemed especially long in 85 degree heat and full sun, in a suit, while carrying a 35 pound camera bag, a purse, and a laptop. Let's just say I was glad that I chose to wear flats.   

At the search tent, Secret Service workers searched through my bags, instructed me to remove all campaign pins and metal jewelry, and asked me to turn on and allow them to expect every piece of electronic equipment, which, for this blogger, included two cameras, a smart phone, a digital voice recorder, and a laptop, so I was hanging with my new Secret Service friends for a while.

I made a point of thanking the woman who searched my bags. I always make a point of thanking the Secret Service. I don't think people thank them very often. And personally, though I don't enjoy standing in line or having my purse searched, I do very much enjoy not being blown up, so I try to show some appreciation for the Secret Service's assistance in preventing grievous injury to my person.

Once I made it to the Pepsi Center, I called Glennia, who also had a credential and was planning to meet me there, to let her know that I had emerged from the security gauntlet no worse for wear, and set about trying to find the Bloggers' Lounge.

This was easier said than done.

In a clear case of first night confusion, none of the first several volunteers and staff I spoke with had any idea where I was supposed to go. There was dissent among them about which areas my arena credential entitled me to access, and everyone I spoke with kept directing me to speak with someone else. The first person I spoke with told me to go to the fifth floor; another volunteer I consulted with on the way there insisted I needed to be on the second. I ran into a couple of other bloggers who were being similarly misdirected in circles. Finally, I approached a woman at a press table who had an air of authority and competence about her.

"Excuse me. Can you help me? I have an Arena-level press credential. Where do I need to go to find the press room, and which areas will this credential allow me to access?"

Looking my at my crisp pinstriped suit, large camera bag, and dress shoes, the woman replied, "Ah, you are press, aren't you? You look like real press." In the air I could hear the unspoken addition, Not like those bloggers going around in jeans and t-shirts who keep asking me for directions to everything and have no idea what they're doing.

I gave her my winningest smile and said, "Can you direct me to the Bloggers' Lounge?"

Eventually I got there.

I sent Glennia a text message with the real directions to the Lounge so that she could hopefully avoid being sent on any wild goose chases to the fifth floor, and set to checking out the work space:

The DNC had provided work tables, power strips, water, superpowered air conditioning, and big screen TVs with live feeds of the convention floor.

Despite being a small room, it was actually sort of nicer than the Unassigned Press Room next door. But don't tell the mainstream media I said that. The DNC staff in the Bloggers' Lounge were quite friendly, and much better informed about credentials etcetera than anyone else in the building had been.

After getting my equipment and credentials sorted, I headed out to the convention floor:

The set was fantastic. Bright, eye-catching, impressively large, but graceful, not gaudy. Integrated projection screens helped delegations in the back (ahem, ahem, like, ahem, my home state of Missouri), get a clear view of the speakers at the podium. The floor of the stadium was packed with delegates, guests, staff and press, but before 4 p.m. there were still a lot of empty seats near the top of the stadium.

The excitement was palpable in the air, already, before the Pepsi Center had even reached capacity. Practically every delegate I looked at was smiling, and this included, by the way, the ones wearing Hillary Clinton t-shirts and pins.

This woman's hat said it all:

 

I made my way up through the crowd to the Missouri delegation section, to see whether I could find any of the delegates I had met when I was a state-level delegate at the Missouri State Democratic Convention. But none of the delegates I knew had arrived at their seats yet. Perhaps they were taking advantage of some still-empty spots in other states' areas closer to the floor.

(Incidentally, the McCain campaign recently sent me an email claiming that the seating arrangements at the convention indicate that the Obama campaign "has given up on Missouri." Considering that Obama made three campaign stops in rural Missouri just a couple of weeks ago, and the Obama campaign just opened up seven new local offices in the St. Louis metro area alone, I find this assertion by the McCain camp difficult to believe.) 

Later in the night the aisles grew so crowded I couldn't make it up to the Missouri delegation section within my allotted floor pass time. So, Missouri delegates, if you were looking for me, I'm sorry I missed you!

The rotating floor pass system only allowed bloggers to stay on the floor for about half an hour at a time, so, throughout the night, I scurried up and down and up and down the stairs from the Bloggers' Lounge to the floor (because the press elevators were overloaded and taking about 10 minutes to ride), snapping as many photos as I could on the floor while I was there, and then rushing back up to my laptop to cover the event live on Twitter @jaelithe and @MOMocrats.

I found myself quite close to the main television stage on the floor, where a series of bigtime TV personalities took turns reporting from within the sea of delegates. I really wanted to slip Katie Couric a MOMocrats card while she was on the platform, but I was afraid the Secret Service would squash me like a bug.

I practically bumped into Donna Brazile three times while running through the backstage passage to the convention floor. She was working as a "flag page," wearing a bright yellow vest, passing out flags and signs to members of the crowd. While being followed by two enormous Secret Service bodyguards.

I did not get a photo of this. I know, I suck.

I also did not manage to see anyone from The Daily Show.

I did get to see a number of amazingly inspiring speeches. And I'll talk about three of those in my next posts.

Comments

[Daisy]

I am so, so envious! I've been watching on TV with my laptop tuned to whatever streaming video has the outdoor action on it. I watched the pepper sprapy incident. Hope you were far away!

[Lawyer Mama]

They're getting more lax. Tonight they jut put my stuff through the x-ray machine & I walked through a metal detector. That's it.

[GraceD]

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, as always, dear Donna. This is the level of detail I want from any coverage - MSM or New Media - about these events. I so appreciate your reporting and look up to you as a model of blogging excellence.

[Cynthia Samuels]

What a great description. I honestly feel as if I'm there! I'm glad the "grown up clothes" worked (ha ha)
Keep it up = you're a star!