I'm gonna be there all week, reporting on the madness. Apparently it's gonna be a love-fest. Or a love-hate fest. Lots of backbiting. Lots of back room backstabbing. Lots of lines. Lots of political largess. Lots of speculation. Lots of sycophants. Lots of rumors. Lots of Rumer Willis.
Lots of lobbyists. Lots of policy discussions. Lots of celebrities with causes. Lots of angry protesters. Lots of hippies. Lots of cameras. Lots of cell phone cameras. Lots of cell phones.
Lots of port-o-lets. Lots of Pink Ladies. Lots of bad food. Lots of Springsteen. Lots of smoke-filled rooms. Lots of Al Sharpton. Lots of plastic smiles. Lots of Grecian formula. Lots of Hunter Thompson impersonators. Lots of cops. Lots of guest lists. Lots of wonks. Lots of wonkettes.
Lots of messianic fervor. Lots of fainting. Lots of dehydration. Lots of drunken polemics. Lots of finger food. Lots of "Yes We Can." Lots of Chris Matthews. Lots of personal space infractions. Lots of hand-painted signs on street corners. Lots of traffic. Lots of strippers. Lots of blaming it on the altitude.
Maybe lots of tear gas. Who knows?
Actually, I'm not sure if Rumer Willis is gonna be there. I just made that one up. And besides, her father is a Republican. Even so, it wouldn't surprise me in the least to see her wandering around on the convention floor in a frantic search for Ryan Seacrest.
Denver is gonna be Hollywood and Washington, D.C. for a week---which should make for a pretty terrifying spectacle. I'm in Los Angeles right now and already there is the sense that much of the town is about to pack up and head for the hills. The concentration of cameras and film equipment on the front range is simply irresistible; it is exhibiting a sort of planetary gravitational pull on the various members of the Hollywood Talent Brigade. Now is a moment to capitalize.
I join this twisted migration out of a deep sense of patriotism and a terminal case of morbid curiosity. Also, I'm completely shameless and blessed with an impeccable instinct for grim hypocrisy. And naturally I will be arriving in the Mile High City with my own set of camera equipment and various other technological devices, so that I might record what I see for posterity.
A laptop. An aircard. A digital voice recorder. A video camera. A camera. A Blackberry.
It's going to be sort of ridiculous. I understand that. I embrace that.
Last time Denver hosted a national political convention was a century ago, in 1908. An earlier, sleepier era. The Democrats nominated William Jennings Bryan of Nebraska for president; his running mate was John W. Kern, of Indiana. The party took place at the Denver Auditorium, a state of the art venue built especially for the occasion.
Jennings and Kern went on to be trounced by the rotund William Howard Taft in the general election.
The average cost of a hotel room in Denver in 1908 was one dollar; today it's about $150.
The Denver Auditorium was built for $700,000; the Pepsi Center, which will host the first three nights of this year's convention, cost $180 million.
In 100 years' time, we've gone from the age of the Denver Auditorium all the way to the Pepsi Center.
In some ways, that pretty much says it all.
More to come. Stay tuned.
-BL
Brad Listi is the author of the bestselling novel Attention. Deficit. Disorder. and the founder of TheNervousBreakdown.com, an online publication featuring writers from around the world. You can find him online at www.bradlisti.com as soon as his web designers finish working on the new site---which should happen any minute now.
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