The Road to Denver is a Mile High and Littered with Kleenex

I'm in Denver. You'd think I'd be oozing with political juices but actually I'm oozing with snot. Wait! Don't stop reading. I won't get any grosser than that. I just have a nasty cold.

My post-nasal drip (see, safe, medical-sounding term) is so severe that I had to liberate the roll of toilet paper from the bathroom (I've gone through the Kleenex). They rig those toilet paper thingys in the hotel so guests can't remove them and I had to crawl under the sink to figure it out -- that's how desperate I was. And if you think reading about my cold is gross, imagine crawling under a bathroom sink in a hotel to free some nose rag. I tried not to think what that floor would look like under the urine and semen revealing glow of a black light (okay, sorry, that might have been grosser).

Anyhow, the day started better. I wore my Obama Pride tee shirt for the trip, the one where the Obama logo has the rainbow in it. Almost everyone on my flight were conventioneers and everyone was in a party mood, despite the fact that all of us got up around 4 am to get to the airport on time. MD Senator Ben Cardin and former NAACP head Kweisi Mfume were on my flight as were other people who looked familiar but I couldn't place. Including the fat older lady with Obama earrings whose Southwest ticket clearly said B60 and mine said B49, which I noticed when she laughingly cut in front of me in line.

Okay, but the highlight of the trip was the cute Latino flight attendant who shamelessly flirted with me. I first saw him at the coffee shop at BWI. He was having breakfast as I walked by. He noticed my Obama Pride shirt, looked at me and smiled. Yes, smiled. Guys don't look at me and smile. This one did. Damn, I thought. Obama is getting me cruised. Talk about Hope!

I didn't expect to see him again but there he was at the door of my plane. He smiled again. I smiled back. He gave me the look (you know what I mean) the look that says I'm not just being friendly, here. I'm being friendly. Really. Friendly. I was embarrassed.

So this went on for the nearly four hour flight to Denver. He gave me extra treats the other passengers didn't get (no, no -- I didn't join the Mile High club...I have SOME scruples. Plus I'm kinda shy). And when we said "buh-bye" he gave me the look again and I admit I turned around on the jetway only to see him look right back at me and give me that damned sexy smile again. Perhaps if I were single I might have been bold enough to slip him my number.

Nah, I doubt it.

So, I should be on cloud nine here at mile high city about to nominate the candidate of hope.

Can someone hand me another roll of toilet paper?