The first day of the DNC we went to the Presidential Experience Experience (I forget it's exact name). There I got to see Abraham Lincoln's shoes and sit on a replica of Air Force One. I actually really loved it there, because you get to see peculiar pieces of history and meet the oddball people who dedicate their lives to it. So it's a win win (did you know that expression was coined by Elvis? That's not true.)

This was our first day on the grounds inside the convention center. We couldn't go inside, because our passes only let us tour the perimeter. However, the very inventive wife of our cameraman started walking up to people as they were leaving and asking them for passes. Though many said no, eventually four said yes, proving that it's possible to sneak into a highly secured place, just like the A-Team. The pass I got said "Special Guest" (the next day we pilfered an "Honorable Guest" badge--with even less access!) At the end of the week, I realized that the less impressive sounding the pass, the more access you could get. If your pass said "Douchebag" you were allowed to go almost anywhere.

It was time to find out how people felt about the biggest new announcement--the choice of Joe Biden for VP. Thanks to the five-minute news cycle, we knew that Joe Biden grew up a scrappy kid from Scranton, PA, knew more about foreign policy than even Churchill, and loved using the word "literally." However, that information is not enough for an undecided voter to cast his vote. So, I got out my Investigation Shovel, and began digging for the truth--the story of the man we all know as Joe Biden (his real name is Joseph Biden, Jr. See? I dig for truth.) Here's what we learned:

Now were at the RNC. We went to a luncheon sponsored by the Huffington Post about new media's effect on journalism and politics. The panel was hosted by Joe Scarborough (who I never got to ask the difference between Marlborough Country and Scarborough Country -- though I assume there is less smoking on horses and more justifiable war) and Mika Brzezneski (who I learned has gutted an animal, I bet using nothing but her tough-as-nails attitude).

Though the panel was actually very interesting, and Joe Scarborough was disarmingly funny and nice, the topic on our mind was not new media, but the huntress-reformer turned VP-nominee Sarah Palin. Stories and rumors were spreading fast about her--we heard she toppled corrupt Republicans in her home state, that she pretended to give birth to a baby that was actually her daughters (not true), that she is against abortion even in cases of incest (and not the accidental incest of Greek tragedies, the modern kind that is horrendous) and that she beat the shit out of a bear that said she hunts like a girl (also, not true).

To get the full story of Sarah Palin, we decided it wasn't enough to talk to one actor and three pundits, we also needed the opinions of polite, but uninformed college students. So we went to the University of Minnesota and talked to people there as well. The following video is the result:

What is a Republican? A quick answer is that it's someone who is friendlier than a Democrat, but more dangerous than a locomotive, which is not inherently dangerous, unless it is used wrong--like a Republican. Now imagine how dangerous a huge group of locomotives yelling USA could be? Exactly. Did you know that many Republicans believe in a hard days work for a hard days pay? It's true. Some even think it's wrong to kill a pre-baby. I learned a lot in this video.

I think this video might have one of my favorite moments from our coverage where I lower a microphone into the stands and talk to a woman from Alaska who I believe is telling me that people in Alaska are worldly because they have drinks from around the world. I might be wrong, and it was hard to hear each other, but it seemed like that was her point. Either way, I loved our exchange.

Our last two days we set out to find dissent. We succeeded in both finding it and accidentally creating it. We went to a large anti-war rally, where we watched protesters get tricked by the police into marching to an intersection that wasn't the Xcel center (where they were originally promised they could demonstrate so that McCain could hear them and change his speech accordingly). After watching a boring standoff between ultra-militarized police and slightly scruffy middle-aged protesters and their punk-rock youth buddies we decided to go to the Xcel center.

About a half a mile from the protest was a bridge we needed to cross to meet up with the rest of our crew. To be on the safe side, this bridge was being protected by fifteen heavily armored cops with tear gas machine guns (not to mention nightsticks). I asked one of the policeman, "How do we get to the hospital?" (we were a little lost and the office we were working out of was right next to it). Instead of telling me where to go, the cop yelled at me to keep moving. He was probably scared, because I was wearing a corduroy jacket and tie and was clearly Jewish. Plus I learned that in St. Paul the police aren't trained to ask why someone is looking for the hospital, but to yell the illness out of them. Cool!

Once inside the convention it was time to goof around. This story ends with us getting sort of thrown out of the RNC. Basically, I didn't know that we weren't allowed to film in our assigned seats (which we had officially--we didn't even sneak in.) Also, I was wearing an orange vest, a helmet, and silly goggles, but the problem really was that I bought self-heating lemon herb chicken (pull a string and it cooks) at an Army Navy store. Once I pulled the string, it started smoking. Not a lot of smoke, but enough to concern the secret service. They ended up confiscating the chicken (pretty reasonable of them).

My favorite moment occurred after they asked for our IDs and took our names. We were all heading down an escalator (to the Captain Morgan lounge to talk to our producer and have our credentials revoked) and I asked the secret service man in charge what he does with our names, and he looked at me straight-faced and said, "You're put on a list and you can never get a college loan." I paused. Then he said, "I'm just kidding. Nothing. You just can't come back tomorrow." That's when I knew--we were all a bunch of goofballs, though he probably had a gun. Then they brought us to the Captain Morgan's lounge, took everyone's credentials, and let us have a drink. They were all super nice and it was a real treat to be detained by them.

We have a few outtakes that we liked that never fit anywhere. At the DNC I got to interview Paul Mitchell, the hair-care impresario, who told me a story about Bebe Rebozo. I'm not totally sure why he told it to me. Mostly, I guess I just really love his laugh. I think you will too.

While at the DNC, we wanted to do a story on PUMAs. We went to what we thought was a PUMA rally, but turned out to mostly be people gathered in a park to watch Hillary's speech, sing songs and celebrate women's suffrage. It wasn't anti-Obama at all as much as it was pro-Hillary. However, I did get to argue with two men outside of their PUMA-Mobile. As I was conducting a very boring interview with one of them (ironically I did not want to make fun of his conspiracy-theory-inspired beliefs at the time and patiently listened to his misguided half-facts), his very good friend began yelling at me as he approached us. It turns out they hate 236.com because of this (and probably other stuff). Here's the video of that encounter:

Now, weeks later, I wonder what ever happened to those two goofballs. I regret that we got off on the wrong foot. I hope they aren't dead. I hope they are out there, blogging and sharing. Good luck guys, I hope President Sarah Palin passes the laws you want, but I somehow doubt it.