come the cops. Mr. Uptown Girl is so busted.
Only it turned out the sirens didnât belong to the cops at all. Instead, they were part of the presidentâs motorcade. First came the lead car, a black SUV with a rack of flashing red lights on its roof. Then came another black SUV, and behind it, a long black limo. Behind that were some more SUVs with flashing lights.
Instead of being excited that I was going to get to see the president go byâeven though you canât really see him when heâs in his limo because the windows are those weird ones the people inside the car can see out of but the people outside the car canât see intoâI was like, Aw, crud. Because Theresa was probably somewhere behind the motorcade, which was crawling along at a snailâs pace. Not only was she going to be in a really bad mood by the time she finally picked me up, but no way was I going to miss David coming out of Susan Booneâs. He would probably see me standing out here and be like, Man, sheâs weird, and never speak to me again. Not that I cared, because I am fully in love with my sisterâs boyfriend. But it had been nice of him to notice my boots. Hardly anyone else ever had.
And besides, when you live in D.C., seeing the president go by is really no big deal, since he goes by all the time.
Then the strangest thing happened. The first SUV in the motorcade pulled up right in front of meâ¦and stopped. Just stopped.
And the traffic light wasnât even red.
Behind the first SUV, the second one stopped, and then the limo, and so on. Traffic was totally stopped behind them, all along Connecticut Avenue. Then these guys with these earpieces climbed out of the cars and all went toward the limo.
And then, to my utter astonishment, the president of the UnitedStates got out of his limo and walked, with a bunch of Secret Service guys clustered around him holding up umbrellas and looking around and speaking into their walkie-talkies, into Capitol Cookies!
Thatâs right, just walked into Capitol Cookies, like he did it every day.
I didnât know that the president liked Capitol Cookies. Capitol Cookies are good, and all, but theyâre not the most famous cookies around, or anything. I mean, thereâs just the one store.
And wouldnât you think that if you were the president you could get the owner to send you a personal supply of cookies, so you wouldnât have to go ducking out of your limo, in the rain, just to get your hands on some? I mean, if I owned a bakery and I found out that the president of the United States liked my cookies, I would fully make sure he got a steady supply of them.
On the other hand, the people who owned Capitol Cookies would probably prefer to have the president be seen ducking into the store. That is way better publicity than you could ever get by privately shipping him his own supply.
And then, as I stood there in the dark and the rain, with the red lights from the top of the SUV in front of me flashing in my face, I saw Mr. Uptown Girl throw back his rain poncho.
And it turned out what heâd been doing under there had nothing to do with him being a shoplifter. Not at all. It turned out what heâd been doing under there had to do with a great big gun, which he brought out and pointed in the direction of the door to Capitol Cookiesâ¦the door through which the president, his cookies having been secured with miraculous swiftness, was just exiting.
I am not what most people would call a particularly brave person. I stick up for the kids at school who get picked on only because I remember what it was like to get picked on back when I lived in Morocco, and during the whole speech and hearing thing.
But that does not mean that I am the sort of girl to throw herself into the path of danger without the slightest concern for her own personal safety. I mean, the closest thing I have been in lately that could qualify as a physical altercation would
Only it turned out the sirens didnât belong to the cops at all. Instead, they were part of the presidentâs motorcade. First came the lead car, a black SUV with a rack of flashing red lights on its roof. Then came another black SUV, and behind it, a long black limo. Behind that were some more SUVs with flashing lights.
Instead of being excited that I was going to get to see the president go byâeven though you canât really see him when heâs in his limo because the windows are those weird ones the people inside the car can see out of but the people outside the car canât see intoâI was like, Aw, crud. Because Theresa was probably somewhere behind the motorcade, which was crawling along at a snailâs pace. Not only was she going to be in a really bad mood by the time she finally picked me up, but no way was I going to miss David coming out of Susan Booneâs. He would probably see me standing out here and be like, Man, sheâs weird, and never speak to me again. Not that I cared, because I am fully in love with my sisterâs boyfriend. But it had been nice of him to notice my boots. Hardly anyone else ever had.
And besides, when you live in D.C., seeing the president go by is really no big deal, since he goes by all the time.
Then the strangest thing happened. The first SUV in the motorcade pulled up right in front of meâ¦and stopped. Just stopped.
And the traffic light wasnât even red.
Behind the first SUV, the second one stopped, and then the limo, and so on. Traffic was totally stopped behind them, all along Connecticut Avenue. Then these guys with these earpieces climbed out of the cars and all went toward the limo.
And then, to my utter astonishment, the president of the UnitedStates got out of his limo and walked, with a bunch of Secret Service guys clustered around him holding up umbrellas and looking around and speaking into their walkie-talkies, into Capitol Cookies!
Thatâs right, just walked into Capitol Cookies, like he did it every day.
I didnât know that the president liked Capitol Cookies. Capitol Cookies are good, and all, but theyâre not the most famous cookies around, or anything. I mean, thereâs just the one store.
And wouldnât you think that if you were the president you could get the owner to send you a personal supply of cookies, so you wouldnât have to go ducking out of your limo, in the rain, just to get your hands on some? I mean, if I owned a bakery and I found out that the president of the United States liked my cookies, I would fully make sure he got a steady supply of them.
On the other hand, the people who owned Capitol Cookies would probably prefer to have the president be seen ducking into the store. That is way better publicity than you could ever get by privately shipping him his own supply.
And then, as I stood there in the dark and the rain, with the red lights from the top of the SUV in front of me flashing in my face, I saw Mr. Uptown Girl throw back his rain poncho.
And it turned out what heâd been doing under there had nothing to do with him being a shoplifter. Not at all. It turned out what heâd been doing under there had to do with a great big gun, which he brought out and pointed in the direction of the door to Capitol Cookiesâ¦the door through which the president, his cookies having been secured with miraculous swiftness, was just exiting.
I am not what most people would call a particularly brave person. I stick up for the kids at school who get picked on only because I remember what it was like to get picked on back when I lived in Morocco, and during the whole speech and hearing thing.
But that does not mean that I am the sort of girl to throw herself into the path of danger without the slightest concern for her own personal safety. I mean, the closest thing I have been in lately that could qualify as a physical altercation would
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