Anyone with a Kazakh wedding sack would have been in biiiig trouble this afternoon. Even my little paper Prairie Lights bag was barred. The Secret Service presence at the Carter book signing rivaled the time I saw Bill Clinton as an incumbent POTUS in `96. The locals were on hand with the bomb squad (?!?) truck too.
The haters were politely working the line, handing out "fact" sheets to the folks waiting in line. One wore a yellow star that said "remember the 6 million," using a double reverse bank shot to tie Carter to Holocaust deniers. In any case they seemed to be canvassing the wrong precinct, as everyone present had shelled out 25 bucks for the book (he was only signing copies of Palestine Peace Not Apartheid and not even other Carter books let along old campaign bling) and was committed enough to wait an hour plus in line for two seconds (literally) with Carter.
After folks were in the main lounge the drill was pretty rigid; other folks there said they'd not seen anything quite like it at a book signing. Numbered tickets - lose it and you're S.O.L. (I'm paraphrasing here.) They called people up to stand in groups of twenty. I was number 109 - reminiscent of Harry Potter night - and the line stretched to 160 before I moved out of earshot. At least 100 were still seated. No pictures - even the press was only represented by a pool photographer (and a blogger scribbling on a small notepad...) No personalized autographs, and "Limit your remarks with President Carter to brief greetings ONLY." We heard the drill every five minutes or so.
Highly efficient; I think everyone who was there was going to get their books signed. Plus he started early which was nice. Carter is pretty swift with a pen for 82 years old. Verbatim transcript of our conversation:
"Thank you for coming, Mr. President."
"I'm glad I came."
He signs your book, out the door you go. More later from the speech.
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