By a very resourceful insider

August 14, 2000

I've been without college roommates for two years, but it seems like old times again.

My arrival in the City of Angels stirs up these memories: "Hello! 2:30 a.m. I'm with a girl. I'm not blowing you off when I walk past you in the lobby. I'm taking her to her room. I could have scored!"

I awake the next morning faced with my first challenge: finding a new hotel room. Actually, it wasn't my room to begin with. I'm here in LA without a room, a real job or credentials. Credentials are the currency of political conventions - they give you access. And the more access you have, the more valuable you are.

I grab a phone and begin working my way through index cards of contacts. I fail to make progress on a room, but eventually secure credentials for the evening session. I'm designated a messenger, so the access is decent as long as I punctuate my conversations with security at all the entrances to the main hall: "I'm just the messenger," or "Don't kill the messenger." My success rate is 50-50. I get onto the convention floor and gain entry to three levels of suites, but don't make it backstage or into VIP parties.

Surprisingly, the real action is in the nosebleed section: an outdoor patio overlooks the Rage Against the Machine concert across the street, and celebrities like Martin Sheen glad-hand alternates and other folks stuck with restricted access.

The president and first lady arrive on stage shortly afterward. I'm torn between the president and Rage Against the Machine. I opt for the president (or, I guess, the machine).

Following his speech, I bump into the MTV Street Team. They're surprised to learn that I've heard of Rage. (They had yet to find a delegate who had heard of them.) I gladly accept their offer to talk about the band, the convention and politics.

En route to the next event, my room search ends - my friend grants me an extra night. Another crisis averted, for now.

We arrive at Paramount Studios for the California Welcoming Party. We're without proper credentials and tickets, but a couple of friends come through for us. Enter Bobby and Eddie of Philadelphia. Rising stars of Philadelphia labor politics, Ed and Bob get us into the studio and several peripheral gatherings, including a Sister Sledge concert live from the Soul Train stage. We bump into old political friends from elections past and a few cabinet members, but just miss the president as he speeds away in his motorcade.

Not to worry, we have three more days ahead.