Old   E-Mail   Diaryland
New   Profile   Guestbook  
Bush-Fest 2002
Written on 2002-06-21, at 10:22 p.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

3 Large Orange Juices

4 Strips Bacon

2 Servings Scrambled Eggs

1 Plum

1/2 Waffle

1 Order Cheese Ravioli

1 Side Buttered Carrots

6 Pieces Donato's Pizza

John Live*

Another cavity search?

*Not at all live


Dubyah Dubyah Dubyah.

George, Dubyah.

Yes, today it was my great, um...honor, to be in his esteemed presence.

That, of course, all said with dripping sarcasm.

I arose this morning at about 3:45am, ready to face the long, long day ahead of me.

Before I could deal with any of my Presidential duties, I had to take some characters down to Kissimmee (Yes, it's a real city) for a meet-and-greet thing we're doing at a resort.

As it was about 6:30am, and I had never been there, I was relying on one of the other girls who had been there before to guide my way.

The map says "Go about three miles down 192."

Nearly 10 miles later, I turn to my passenger and say,

"Gabbie, where are we?"

To which she responds,

"What...oh...wow, it's way back there, we passed it."

Way to navigate there, Gabbie.

After my morning madness had ceased, it was time for the real deal.

At about 2pm, I headed out to pick up my characters, who would be The Cat in the Hat, and Scooby-Doo.

Who, of course, couldn't be at the same park.

So my first stop was to pick up The Cat in The Hat, at Islands of Adventure.

Upon arrival though, I was to find out that my performer playing the Cat had neither a drivers license, nor a state ID.


Which, when you're trying to get by the Secret Service, doesn't necessarily fly to well.

So we ended up having to sack him for a replacement who did have identification, which really upset me, because he was so looking forward to doing this event.

But hey, c'est la vie.

With that all taken care of, it was back to Universal Studios to pick up Scooby, who, reassuringly, did have proof of his own existence on him.

With everyone all set, I picked up my supervisor, Liz, back at our offices, and we were off.

We pulled up to the Portofino Bay Hotel employee entrance to be met by who would be the first of many Secret Service agents we would encounter throughout the evening.

He stopped us, and listened patiently as we explained why we should be the only people who should be allowed to pass through to the loading docks.

Strangely enough, he agreed, telling us to "Move...quickly!"

Perhaps it was our non-threatening appearances.

Perhaps it was our quick and timely display of all proper identification.

Perhaps it was my bosses giant honkers.

Nevertheless, we found ourselves parking the van near the back loading dock, and heading into the hotel.

When we hear,

"STOP...who are you four?"

At that moment, I heard sirens, realized what this situation looked like, and braced myself to be taken out by a well placed sniper.

A sniper who wasn't there yet, but we'll get to that.

Here's what the Secret Service agents at the dock saw...

A large white, 15-passenger van pull up, park, and sit motionless for a few minutes, after which emerged four people, two of whom were carrying giant, lumpy bags (the costumes).

Putting two and two together, and suddenly realizing what the sirens meant, and I was honestly suprised that they hadn't already opened fire.

Liz stepped forward and explained the situation, after which the agent told us to go back to the first roadblock and take the footpath around the resort, since we couldn't be where we were.

Since they had guns, and we didn't...we listened to them, and started walking back to the path.

Not good enough.

The agents behind us were yelling for us to go faster, and the agent at the roadblock was frantically gesturing for us to "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

So we're running.

Not an easy task for two people with twenty pounds of costume in bags, myself staggering along wondering when I was going to get shot, and Liz in heels with breasts-a-bouncing.

After making it to the path, and out of the way of a speeding Presidential motorcade, we sort of realized that we had no idea where we were.

As an events team, we're used to going in the back of the hotel, straight to the green room, and from there, right to our event location.

Because of this, none of us have a very strong working knowledge as to the actual layout of the resort area.

Wandering around aimlessly, trying doors, I suddenly see one that I recognize.

I check it, and it's unlocked, so we all headed back into the service areas of the hotel, trying to make our way back to the green room.

After making it about twenty feet, you guessed it...Secret Service.

Old Georgie was about to pass through the corridor we were in, so we were very abruptly swept out another door leading to a small terrace near the main courtyard of the hotel.

Here we met one of the hotel security staff, looking absolutely terrified. The reason for this, as we later found out, was that he was placed there by a Secret Service agent, and told that no one, absolutely NO ONE was to come into, or exit the door we had just come out of with out a government escort.

And by government escort, of course I mean a heavily armed man who knows various interesting ways to make you cease living.

We were to remain out there until the President passed by, after which we'd be brought back in.

Still standing with bags full of Scooby-Doo, and The Cat in the Hat, we passed the time away as sweep after sweep of Secret Service agents came and went.

I kept remarking "This is SO cool...it's like a movie."

It was nothing like my previous Presidential experience, back in 1996, when Bill and Hilary came to the 25th Anniversary Re-Dedication of the Magic Kingdom.

Of course, it was incredibly tight back then too, but I wasn't as immersed in it then as I was this time.

I was loving it...mysterious men in dark suits all around me...so as I eased up, I started making jokes.

"Hey Liz," I said jokingly, "Let's go out into the courtyard and play Count-The-Snipers."

Not moments after I said that, a door flies open, and Secret Service escorts a group of black clad men with large cases, scopes, and body armor bearing the word "US SECRET SERVICE".

"Oh...eight. Game's over."

Shortly thereafter, we were given the ok to go back inside, and had to go through yet another security checkpoint, where the costumes were pulled out of the bags, everything we had was searched, and we were thoroughly examined with long beeping objects.

It was at this point that Liz thought it would be a good idea to flash the US Secret Service.

They asked her to raise her lanyard, because of the metal hook on the end of it.

Somehow, "Raise your lanyard" translated to "Take your shirt off", as Liz looked ready to bare it for "All The President's Men" until they stopped her, assuring her that it was just her lanyard that needed the lifting.

Once we were on our way, we found ourselves (finally) back at the green room, where we'd be able to break.

Only, the green room was also being used by the aforementioned US Secret Service.

It was around this time that I saw an interesting side of these agents.

They would talk to us, joke with us, shout for Scooby, and at times I almost forgot that they were some of the most highly-trained, lethal government agents in the country.

So after the performers readied themselves, we headed out to the reception, where as we were milling about, Scooby-Doo played out the script of his newest feature...

"Scooby-Doo meets Bitey, the Vicious Secret Service K-9"

The boy playing Scooby was fairly new, and therefore still overexcited about everything.

So he sees a dog, and walks toward it, gesturing wildly.

The dog nearly jumped him right there. And I really think he would have, had the cute Secret Service man not heeled him.

Liz and I stood there, watching everything happen, growing more and more bored as the minutes went on.

Let's do Keigels, I said...

Now, for those of you who don't know what those are, they're an exercise that both men and women can do to strenghten the genital muscles.

This consists of simply squeezing the muscle down there, and releasing it. That's the beauty of them, you can do it anywhere.

So we're standing there, doing Keigels, and giggling at the fact that we're doing them at this at a God knows how much a plate Republican Dinner...

When Jeb Bush walks right by us.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, broken by my question...

"Were we just squeezing our genitals at the Governor?"

"I'm pretty sure we were." she replied.

As we finished up the evening, we packed up, and bid farewell to our Secret Service friends.

Heading back to the loading dock, we passed the waiting motorcade, where I counted at least fifty-eight motorcycles, not including all the government vehicles and other law enforcement cars.

As for the big man himself, he was kept under tight wraps, though I'm positive I saw him in the lockdown area for a fleeting moment as we were leaving.

So we headed out, strong genitals, character costumes and all, happy to be free of dogs and snipers and politicians.

Thus ending Bush-Fest 2002.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

Prodigal Son - 11:03 pm , 11.20.06

So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish - 6:41 pm , 05.29.05

The Beginning of the End - 1:15 pm , 11.22.04

Brand Positioning - 2:13 am , 09.20.04

A Pop Culture Case Study - 9:24 pm , 08.26.04

Tired of waiting for me to update? Want to know when I do?
Then sign up for my NotifyList:



                      Far / Near