Some kids dream about being a baseball player when they grow
up. Or a fireman. Me? I wanted to be White House Press Secretary.
I declared myself a Democrat at age eight. As a teenager, I dreamed
of a life of briefing books and tough questions from hard-nosed reporters. Oh,
and saving the world, one liberal ideal at a time.
By 29, I was getting close. I was a Press Secretary for the
Senate Democratic Leadership, which is how I came to be sitting at my desk in
the US Capitol the day that something went very wrong.
I had just hung up the phone with a reporter when my
coworker Chris walked into the press office.
“Do you know why they suddenly went into recess?” he asked
me.
Chris, you have to understand, was in charge of tracking the
business of the Senate floor for the entire Democratic caucus. It was his job to know why.
“Why are you asking me?”
I followed his eyes over to the small TV on my desk just in
time to see the clerks and Parliamentarian quickly rising from their seats at
the front of the well and hustling out of the Chamber. Without warning,
everyone on the Senate floor had just vanished.
“This can’t be good,” Chris said.
My body already knew what to do. I kicked my heels off, ready to run, when the
yelling started in the hall outside.
