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Monday March 10, 2008

My First Trip to the White House

Back when I was in elementary school in the suburbs of DC, I had some pretty important friends. A lot of them were the progeny of the great up and coming, but some were also the sons or daughters of the already established. Most noteworthy of my good friends was the son of the Chief of Staff for President George Bush Sr, Peter Sununu. He lived a couple of subdivisions over, and a short bike ride away.

One day I rode over to his house to find whatever trouble 12 year olds can get into, and was wearing my bathing suit because in summertimes in Northern Virginia, bathing suits were a go-to clothing item. Odds were good you'd end up close to either a pool, creek, or lake. So the day I remember, Peter and I were tying fireworks to our bicycles and riding around like any normal couple of unruly kids, when his mom came out and called us over. "Guys, do you want to go to the White House?"

Since this was something different to do, we agreed and piled in the car. I don't really remember the drive, or what we talked about, but I do remember pulling into a driveway at the white house and having the secret service agents sweep the cars for bombs before they let us in. We walked into the White House and she gave us the insider's tour. I remember we walked through the rooms of different colors (i.e, the green room, the yellow room, whatever) and then coming into the Oval Office.

We got a good look around the office, then went out the secret corridor that would be all to well frequented by both Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski. Once we got back into the administrative section of the White House, we had to sit and wait while Peter's mom did whatever administrative stuff she came to do. She came back out and told us she was ready to leave, and then a bunch of people came walking up. "Oh, hi Dan!" she said, as we stood up ready to leave. "This is my son and his friend." Just like that, I met the Vice President, Dan Quayle.

"Hi Mr. Quayle, can I have your autograph?" I asked him, not really knowing what else to do with a famous guy like that. "Uh.... Sure." he said, and got a White House brochure from the secretary we were sitting near, and autographed it to me.

"Mike, Good Luck. -Dan Quayle."

He walked away with this entourage of secret service personnel to do whatever Vice Presidents do, and I drove home with Peter and his mom. I rode my bike back home from their place, getting there just in time for dinner. I ran into the kitchen.

"Mom! Mom! Guess who I met today?"

"Who?" She asked, only partially interested.

"The Vice President!" I said, out of breath.

"Sure you did." She said, as she kept stirring the spaghetti sauce and not even looking up. "Was he nice?"

"Yeah!" I said, "He even wished me good luck! Look!" I threw the autographed brochure on the counter next to her and ran off to go wash up for dinner. When I came back down she had a look of disbelief. "Were you wearing your bathing suit when you met the Vice President?"

"Yep!" I said, acting like perhaps the White House had a pool behind it.

"In your bathing suit? In your BATHING SUIT!?"

Yep. I certainly had. Not only had I met the Vice President in the restricted section of the White House, but I had also done so in my bathing suit, permanently cementing our family as white trash amongst the political ladder climbing families of my friends.

These are such things that only happen to a Perry.
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