Jab Meets President Clinton

The elections are so close, I can almost smell them--oh wait, that's Sarah Palin's hairspray.

Regardless, our favorite guest blogger JAB is back with a story of when he met President Clinton. Ah, the days when being President meant something--like NOT having sexual relations with overweight brunettes. Enjoy.

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When Bill Clinton’s autobiography first came out in 2004, my procrastinating ass missed out on getting a First Edition. By the time I got around to looking for one it was near impossible to find. Until one day walking through a Wal-Mart I see the book section and decide, "Hey, you never know." And low-and-behold there it was, a First Edition Clinton Autobiography! And I think to myself, "Of course there’s one here." What Wal-Mart shoppers are likely to buy an 800 page presidential autobiography? That’s like going to the butcher in a Jewish community looking for Pork Tenderloin. They may not stock it often, but if they do the best cuts are always available. As soon as I got it out of the store, I vowed that one day...somehow...Bill Clinton would autograph my First Edition!

Fast-forward to February this year. Obama and Hillary are neck and neck going into the Texas Primary. I knew that Texas was a key state for both, which meant possible appearances from both. Low and behold, I receive news late one night that Bill Clinton is making an appearance in Tyler, TX tomorrow morning! Now for those of you in NYC, Tyler, TX is a po-dunk Bonanza looking town a little over 100 miles from Dallas. It’s about the distance from The Bronx to Philly. Not that there’s a reason to go to either place, same goes for Tyler. Bottom line is I knew that this was my big chance. I could actually get close enough for an autograph! I mean, how many hardcore Democrats are you going to find in a country bumpkin Texas town?

So the next morning I call in “sick”, jump in my Texas gas guzzler and head for Tyler. When I arrived I found out that he was going to be speaking in the local high school gym…can you believe it? I get to the school and I see a line of about 50 people in the parking lot. I figure I’m golden right about now. I grab my First Edition and my camera and bolt for the line. Over the next hour about 300 people file in a snake line zig-zagging behind me. It was flannel jackets, overalls and Dolly Parton hair as far as the eye could see. Even though I was at the back of the first curve which put me at one of the farthest spots physically from the door, I was relatively at the front of the line being number 50 out of 350. I was very pleased with my positioning.

While waiting in line (in Texas we say “in line”, not “on line”), I was talking to a “staff guy” that’s a dead ringer for George Carlin. After talking a while we start talking about the book.

Jab: How close can I get to Bill?

George: Well, you’re in a good spot in line. You should be somewhere in front.

Jab: Great! I’m really hoping to get his autograph.

George: Oh, is that his book?

Jab: Yeah, First Edition! If I can get him to sign it, it could be valuable one day.

George: Oh, yeah! Tell you what, just give it to me and I’ll get him to sign it!

Jab: (I turn into a bouncing 2nd grader) REALLY? Gee, thanks!

As I watch him walk away with my book, my excitement turns to, “wait a minute…how do I know this guy is legit?!” My realization turns to fear, then anger, then panic. Just as this realization sinks in, the doors open for people to come in. Within 10 seconds the concept of an orderly entry goes down in flames. People in the back of the line close to the door start bolting in. Immediately the whole thing breaks down into a mad dash and there’s no security to stop it. Only in BFE Texas can you bum rush a high school gym to see an ex-president. You can’t even do that at a Coldplay concert.

I finally get through the door and make my way toward the gym floor with the rest of the herd. You could almost hear the moo’s and cowbells the whole way. I get to a point about halfway back in the gym where there’s no more moving toward the stage. I’m looking at people sitting in the small 10 rows of chairs right in front of the stage, remembering certain ones that were at least 200 people behind me. So here I am. I’m halfway back in the crowd, my book is gone and George Carlin is no where to be found. I guess I’ll deal with…..OWWW! WHAT THA HELL?!!

Out of no where something slams into my achilles heel. I turn around and it’s a little man pushing a woman in a wheelchair.

Wheelchair Lady: Are you OK?

Jab: Yeah, sure. Do you need to get through?

Wheelchair Lady: If I could. I have an old program from a Clinton event in 1992 I was hoping he’d sign.

Up ahead I could see over the crowd a handicap section right in front. I looked again at the little old 5’4” man pushing her through the herd and knew they’d never get through. Suddenly, even if my book was gone, I knew what I had to do. I told her to hang tight and I grabbed her wheelchair and started bulldozing through slicing up ankles the whole way. This lady had a date with Bill Clinton! GANG WAY! WHEELCHAIR COMIN’ THROUGH!

I look back and the little old man has fallen way behind, he’s not going to make it. But he’s smiling and waving the whole time so I figure he’s OK with it. We get to the front of the horseshoe of people standing around the rows of chairs in front. The security guy waves me to the right side where a row of wheelchair nursing home people are lined up. We’re by the PA speaker and yelling over Clinton’s theme song “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow”.

Security: Just put her over here!J

ab: No problem! (I turn to the lady) Are you OK here?!?

Wheelchair Lady: Oh yes! Thank you so much! Bless you!

Jab: No problem ma’am! (I start to make my way back to the little old man.)

Security: Hey!! Where you going?!? You have to stay with her!

Next thing I know, I’m being forced to stay on the front row! Things are starting to look up, even though I’m crushed into an Egyptian stance between a PA speaker and a wheelchair. While standing there with Christina Aguilera blaring in my ear that I am beautiful in every single way, I look across the gym and there is George Carlin snaking through the crowd. I tried to yell to him over Christina, but her words kept bringing me down.

Eavesdropping on the secret service strong arms with the ear pieces, I overheard them say that Bill was 30 minutes away. 2 ½ hrs later, while hearing that Nothing’s Gonna Break My Stride for the third time, we were still waiting. All of a sudden, Hail to the Chief breaks out and we all knew, he here! Bill hops up on the little high school two foot riser stage and paces back and forth waving at the crowd of roughly 400 people plus media in the back in the stands. I look at the lady in the wheelchair and she has tears in her eyes.

Bill goes through his speech and he is in rare form and working the crowd. All the way down to his snake skin boots. And the crowd is eating it up. For a brief moment I had forgotten about my previous misfortunes, until I saw him again. There against the wall on the opposite side of the stage was George Carlin doing his best James Dean. I tried to wave him down but the only attention I drew was from the secret service. I quickly decided to stop that shit, chill out and just take pictures of Bill.

An hour later as Bill’s speech ended, it quickly became evident that he was going to come down and shake hands with people on the front row. Immediately the crush was on from the people behind me. Bill started on the opposite side, so it would be a while before he got to us. I quickly worked out a deal with a guy next to me to take my picture shaking Bill’s hand than I’d quickly take the camera do the same for him and email him the shot.

When Bill gets to our side he first sees the lady in the wheelchair and goes for the photo op with her. I quickly adjusted the camera settings and give the guy my camera. As soon as I turned back around Bill is looking right at me with his hand out. I take his warm, soft hand and to my surprise he flips it into a “brother man” handshake.

Bill: Thanks for coming out!

Jab: Thank you, Bill! You are the man! You were the first person I ever voted for!

Bill: Hope we can count on you at the polls.

Jab: Eh, I dunno.Did I say that out loud???

All of a sudden I see Bill giving me this confused look like, “Do you know who the fuck I am?” I quickly grabbed my camera and snapped the shot with the other guy. As Bill finished and left the gym I started to walk toward the door looking at my pictures. Not bad. I even see the wheelchair lady and the little old man reunite as she shares her signed program with him. They were so grateful.

As I get through the door I see the Cleavers walking in front of me with a signed autobiography on CD.

Jab: Where’d you get that?

Mr. Cleaver: I brought it with me. Just got it signed by the president!

Jab: Damn! I gave my book to a George Carlin looking dude to have mine signed.

Mrs. Cleaver: Us too. So did a lot of people. He just gave us ours back.I race back inside and there he is, about to go back behind the curtain. He sees me coming and he already has it in his hand. He tells me he was about to toss it, he’s obviously tired of being here. I take it, quickly open it up and there it is. “To Jab, Thanks. Bill Clinton”. A nice cool calm comes over me.

On my way home I stopped at little Bar-B-Que spot for some lunch and some lemonade, showing my pictures to everyone in the place. All in all, it was a great day. I got some great pictures, I helped a wheelchair lady, I got a day off from work, and most of all, I got my autographed First Edition. Sometimes life is good!