Breathing on Marilyn Quayle
You know, working in politics affords you some unique opportunities in life. And what would unique opportunities be, if people didn't abuse some of them, horribly. Thus begins the tale of the Marilyn Quayle visit to Rapid City.
When I was out in Rapid City, there was an entourage, if you will - working and/or volunteering in the Republican office. There's many fond memories from this team of go-getters who took no prisoners. And we kicked butt in Pennington County, in a year where the GOP did poorly everywhere else.
Many from this group still lust over my Hot Chicken Wing recipe, renowned by them as some of the best in the state. And these same people were involved in the Marilyn Quayle episode. All are still involved in politics in one way or another, in one place or another, so we'll change the names for protection of the formerly young and not so innocent.
It was announced one day that Marilyn Quayle, the wife of the Vice President was coming to Rapid City to campaign for Republicans - U.S. Senate Candidate Char Haar in particular - on that Saturday morning. And we had to put on a shindig. The Secret Service was arranging security at the Alex Johnson, and we had a generous donor who agreed to cover the cost of the breakfast which was to be attended by Republican Women. A ballroom at the Alex was arranged for, and it was to be decorated. Really, there wasn't too much to do except to show up.
And I had the Office Posse' who all volunteered to "help" because they were shameless political fanboys. Yeah, ok, we all wanted to see Marilyn, and get her autograph. Helping involved just standing at the entrance and checking people in. We had to be there at 7 AM to get the breakfast started, and to start checking the ladies in. Easy, right?
Friday night's decorating activities ended early, and we just had to wait until the morning to work. Since most of them were living and attending college in Spearfish, I let the crew of 4 crash at my place for the night. As we were all over 21, we obtained adult beverages, and I made about 15 -20 pounds of my infamous hot wings. Revelry ensued.
Since I was viewed as the responsbile party for the event, I forced myself to go to bed at about 11:30 PM. The rest said they were going to stay up for a few minutes and yuk it up. After turning in, I quickly drifted off to sleep.
Some time later, I awoke with a start to uproarious laughter. Bleary eyed, I looked at the clock. 3AM? What is that racket? I stumbled to the top of the stairs to see the crew roaring with laughter over stories, and continuing the revelry without me.
OK. I had to be the bad guy. "What are you doing? It's 3 in the morning, and we have to be there in four hours!"
Chastised, they went to bed.
6:30 came, and I got up. Tired, but functional. The rest of the crew was in tougher shape. I made it to the event at 7:00 and started checking people in, and the crew rolled in a little after that. And to their credit, they managed to stand upright. About 8AM, Marilyn Quayle arrived. It was very unhurried, and she had time for autographs before she spoke.
And then one of the office posse wanted an autograph.
One of the helpers who we will call "Jimmy" held out a bumper sticker for an autograph, which Mrs. Quayle graciously signed. And then with his thick southern drawl, he thanked her, drawing close and shaking her hand, and said "Mrs. Quayle, We're so glad y'all could come to South Dakota." And along with his pronouncement came a roiling morning breath reeking of revelry and last night's hot wing sauce.
The wife of the Vice President was visibly repulsed by the poisoned air, and moved away like a shot. I motioned to the others to just hang back. We didn't need the secret service detaining the volunteer help.
The rest of the breakfast went off with a hitch, and we survived the event. We all got our prized autographs. But none of us (nor do I suspect will Marilyn Quayle) ever forget her breakfast greeter in South Dakota.
The moral of the story? Well, there is no moral this time. Just never let "Jimmy" anywhere near the vice president's wife.
When I was out in Rapid City, there was an entourage, if you will - working and/or volunteering in the Republican office. There's many fond memories from this team of go-getters who took no prisoners. And we kicked butt in Pennington County, in a year where the GOP did poorly everywhere else.
Many from this group still lust over my Hot Chicken Wing recipe, renowned by them as some of the best in the state. And these same people were involved in the Marilyn Quayle episode. All are still involved in politics in one way or another, in one place or another, so we'll change the names for protection of the formerly young and not so innocent.
It was announced one day that Marilyn Quayle, the wife of the Vice President was coming to Rapid City to campaign for Republicans - U.S. Senate Candidate Char Haar in particular - on that Saturday morning. And we had to put on a shindig. The Secret Service was arranging security at the Alex Johnson, and we had a generous donor who agreed to cover the cost of the breakfast which was to be attended by Republican Women. A ballroom at the Alex was arranged for, and it was to be decorated. Really, there wasn't too much to do except to show up.
And I had the Office Posse' who all volunteered to "help" because they were shameless political fanboys. Yeah, ok, we all wanted to see Marilyn, and get her autograph. Helping involved just standing at the entrance and checking people in. We had to be there at 7 AM to get the breakfast started, and to start checking the ladies in. Easy, right?
Friday night's decorating activities ended early, and we just had to wait until the morning to work. Since most of them were living and attending college in Spearfish, I let the crew of 4 crash at my place for the night. As we were all over 21, we obtained adult beverages, and I made about 15 -20 pounds of my infamous hot wings. Revelry ensued.
Since I was viewed as the responsbile party for the event, I forced myself to go to bed at about 11:30 PM. The rest said they were going to stay up for a few minutes and yuk it up. After turning in, I quickly drifted off to sleep.
Some time later, I awoke with a start to uproarious laughter. Bleary eyed, I looked at the clock. 3AM? What is that racket? I stumbled to the top of the stairs to see the crew roaring with laughter over stories, and continuing the revelry without me.
OK. I had to be the bad guy. "What are you doing? It's 3 in the morning, and we have to be there in four hours!"
Chastised, they went to bed.
6:30 came, and I got up. Tired, but functional. The rest of the crew was in tougher shape. I made it to the event at 7:00 and started checking people in, and the crew rolled in a little after that. And to their credit, they managed to stand upright. About 8AM, Marilyn Quayle arrived. It was very unhurried, and she had time for autographs before she spoke.
And then one of the office posse wanted an autograph.
One of the helpers who we will call "Jimmy" held out a bumper sticker for an autograph, which Mrs. Quayle graciously signed. And then with his thick southern drawl, he thanked her, drawing close and shaking her hand, and said "Mrs. Quayle, We're so glad y'all could come to South Dakota." And along with his pronouncement came a roiling morning breath reeking of revelry and last night's hot wing sauce.
The wife of the Vice President was visibly repulsed by the poisoned air, and moved away like a shot. I motioned to the others to just hang back. We didn't need the secret service detaining the volunteer help.
The rest of the breakfast went off with a hitch, and we survived the event. We all got our prized autographs. But none of us (nor do I suspect will Marilyn Quayle) ever forget her breakfast greeter in South Dakota.
The moral of the story? Well, there is no moral this time. Just never let "Jimmy" anywhere near the vice president's wife.
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