1. My seat was very close to the curtain, stage right. I had the same line of sight as speakers, so I only saw the teleprompter and crowd. I also had a near-perfect shot of every backside that spoke on stage, so to speak. The best? Mary J. Blige. The worst? Barney Frank.
2. Everyone gets starstruck. Even the most stern-faced security detail whipped out their cell phones when the Foo Fighters soundchecked.
3. Convention VIPs are an unphasable bunch. They took kissey-face pictures with each other and chugged mixed drinks like they were at a frat party even as DNCC Chairwoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz spoke on stage about her breast cancer. It was as disillusioning as watching words you thought were coming from someone's heart scroll up a teleprompter.
4. Conventioneers grew increasingly concerned with comfort as the days passed. By day three, guys were in full suits and tennis shoes. Ladies were in cocktail dresses, tube socks and tennis shoes. I didn't see any in socks and sandals, but then again I didn't pay much attention to Oregon's delegation.
5. Covering the DNC is probably a lot like covering a Super Bowl. It's loud, people are drunk and amped, and everyone talks shit about the other team.
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