I’m so dizzy, my head is spinning … July 4, 2004
For those of us who recall that song, I hope you start singing it right now.
You know, I get a call about seeing the Vice President, and when you get a call you think. I’m a special invite. Well, that was just a way to get everyone there.
We went, it wasn’t a wasted trip. I took my daughter Ali with me. Let me tell you about Ali. She’s nearly 14, tiny, and petite, not even five foot. She has these puppy dog sad eyes, and Italian circles that at times make her look like a throw back from the depression era. And just before she cries, she’s so cute and pathetic. Her eyes water, nose gets red, and her quivering lips swell. Plus, it helps that she has a dainty voice, with a hint of nasal.
What a perfect child to bring. Anyhow, we had a great spot right up front. Ali is little. So we’re there in this open room, crammed pack with people all holding signs. We were standing there for about an hour before the festivities began.
Speaker lady in a horrific pink plaid outfit, and her voice should not be heard over the microphone. Then a lifer boy scout, in all his uniform glory leads the place in the pledge of allegiance—which was cool. Followed by an opera singer who rocked the National Anthem, then our state senator.
The VP was due any second now. Suddenly … Ali turned to me and said,
“Can we get out of here?”
“What! No, why!”
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
I looked at my daughter, sweat glistened on her head, it was without a doubt a repercussion of the heat and crowd. My daughter was exhibiting signs of claustrophobia.
She continued, “Oh, no. Oh no, I think I’m gonna faint. We have to get out. I’m gonna faint.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to just faint right here,” I said, “I’m not leaving. The VP is coming out.”
I lifted my sign, bought her close and start to fan her off. She is attached arms tight to me, and she doesn’t realize that is making her worse. But I’m fanning, and fanning,.
The VP comes out.
All these people rush forward, we’re more like sardines than ever. I’m trying to fan my daughter when it dawns on me, “Hmm. Wait. If Ali passed out, right here, boy, what an attention grabber. I mean, the news was there, sympathy, the crowd splits after a rush of screams.
I stopped fanning.
Then guilt sets in and I start fanning once more. Until it dawned on me, she is nearly fourteen, in some countries that’s considered an adult, and if she felt faint in those countries, surely no mom would be fanning her.
I justified that she wasn’t really gonna pass out, and if she did, it would be a photo op like none other with the VP. The cute, tiny, little girl, wanting so baldy to see her VP, puts up with Claustrophobia, the heat, and passes out in her dedication to her …
Stop. Shit. If that happened, I could see the headlines.
“BUSH TEAM’S TORTOROUS RALLY NEARLY KILLS YOUNG GIRL.” The news would go on to say that The Bush campaign was so inconsiderate, that they didn’t pay any mind that temperatures soared to a health risk level. How they put constituents in danger, causing a young girl to succumb to heat stroke. I know how the media works. Not everyone is Fox News.
The child welfare services would strike at Bush. Think of the field day Kerry would have.
Oh, no … by not fanning my daughter and gambling on her passing out, I single handedly could destroy the Bush reelection.
Immediately I started fanning again. I even offered to take her out before the VP was done for water. She refused and said, “No, Mommy, I’ll suffer. I must see the VP and be a good American.”
OK, she really didn’t say that. But that was a good touch.
More later, I have a good W story to tell. W versus the water heater.