The first action report from Tampa, home of the Republican convention discovers…a lot of milling around.
Or at least that’s true of where I am, sitting in a hotel lobby with a gaggle of talk radio hosts from around the country. They are all a bit leery of one another — is your show better than mine? Are you on a bigger station than he is? And that green media credential really does make you look fat.
Some of them are saddling up for the media welcome party being held in St. Petersburg. The promise of food and drink will lure the pressies in droves. Or at least those who’ve had the opportunity to put their hair and wardrobe back into some sort of order. The swampy conditions in the Tampa airport baggage claim area would wilt even the most formidable of Richmond dames.
The real heat, though, came from my cab driver. He was hopping mad that he had to pick up yet another rate-controlled fare from the airport — no more than $15 bucks. He said the convention was killing his business because everyone was taking buses and shuttles. I saw one of such bus, carrying the demure delegation from New Jersey, leaving at the same time. It was all my driver could do not to flip them off as we passed.
He said the bars were suffering, shutting down at 1 AM because so few people were willing to get behind the wheel with so many cops just looking for something to do. Another suffering population? Strippers. My driver said he had one such entertainment professional as a fare a day or so ago and she complained that all she’d made for a night’s worth of rather athletic work was $20.
Only after this did I get a “welcome to Tampa” from him.
Yeah, happy to be here.
And the weather…yes, it’s going to go downhill, it’s rained sideways once already and you can cut the air with a butter knife. Other than that, it’s Florida in late August. It’s swell, if you’re one of the lizards hiding near the flower pots.
The RNC has no real business tomorrow, but radio row will be open and the word is the VIPs and assorted pols will be swarming the media center. When there are hungry egos to feed, and a ready source of press protein at hand, not even a direct hit from Isaac could keep them away.
I’ll be there. After breakfast.
And I’ve been warned about the security. Very long lines. And for reporters carrying anything other than a laptop and a cell phone, make preparations to have it, as one person told me, “taken apart.”
It could be a long week…
