I'm Way Too Much Like Forrest Gump--

Okay,
so yes I am updating my First Day Blog on the Second Day--
but I wouldn't want to break tradition.
This CPAC experience has had a rather trying lead up.
So I was the last one to pay, the last one to fill out my paperwork, and I'm the last one ready every morning?
I bring the charisma and that's where it's at.
You're welcome T-Daddy.

Anyways--
if you happened to follow us last year, you know that I'm a stickler for detail.
You want a play-by-play?
You GET a play-by-play.
Prepare yourself--because if you thought a day in my everyday life was chaotic, just wait until you hear about a day involving plane rides and a Jewish man.

Bright and early on Wednesday moning, as in 4:30 am CST, Brent Phillips and Alex Gerrard at the Kappa Delta house.
What's that?
No--I think you need a repeat.
4:30 AM. In the morning. Dark outside.
So I stayed up all night.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
In restrospect, not so much.
Hindsight is 20/20. (Lesson 1, T-Daddy, Lesson 1)

So we get in the car, I am wearing no makeup, and Brent decides to comment on it.
(Prepare for his extermination.)
He redeemed himself soon by buying me a cinnamon roll and a coke from mcdonalds.
I complicated the order.
Forrest Gump sighting numero uno.
Then we finally get on the road to Nashville.
Brent drove fast.
Really fast.
We were still late.
Guess who got blamed?
Darn you, cinnamon roll.

So here I am, rolling up in the Nashvegas Airport with my hotpink suitcase, no eye makeup, limping because I tripped down the steps of the shuttle bus, and doing my "I have to pee dance".
In essence, I looked exactly like the crazies that the TSA are taught to look out for.
I somehow made it through baggage check and the security pat down.
I giggled when she got to my tummy--it tickled.
She look startled.
We didn't have much free time, so I plopped down in a chair next to an older man in a USS Oklahoma hat.
I like WWII vets, we have a lot in common.
Anyways, we exchanged pleasantries and then some flight attendant came and whisked his wheelchair away.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Then--I get on the plan, and who should be on the frontrow but my good buddy, Milton.
(I think I frightened him when I plopped down and said "Well we meet again!!")
Milton and I shared our row with an intimidating man in a suit.
I kept my eyes averted.
You can picture it, I'm sure.
Hunter sitting in the middle, all squeezed up because intimidating suit man is an arm rest hogger, and Milton is doing a word search.
On the plus side, he gave me his Reader's Digest to keep me occupied.
It didn't.

So after asking for a ginger ale from the flight attendant, spilling most of it on her, and then making her drop all the napkins (apparently they don't need help serving), I decided it was time to engage the intimidating, suit-wearing, arm rest hogger in conversation.
Milton and I were trucking along just lovely, but I didn't want Mr. Cufflinks to feel left out.
So I say to him: "You originally from Baltimore?" (because that's was to be our destination.)
Apparently he couldn't handle my accent.
So I repeated.
He was from Nashville.
And couldn't comprehend MY dialect?
Puh.

Anyways, so Milton and our newest addition Red (real name Kinley, but he used to have red hair until he got old and for all his years, got grey hair and liver spots) just had a ball.
We got on swimmingly.
Red is a former pilot with the U.S. Airforce.
He also owns a French Paper company (he said he'd print my cards for free when I run for office) and he flies to France at least twice a month.
He apparently is also a fan of Salt Lake City.
This day he was flying to D.C. for a quick business lunch, then had to be back on the 3:00 flight for home.
He had two sons and a wife.
One has a house on an island in Georgia.
Our politics were alot alike.
He had hearing aids and let me try them.
He called me little lady and carried my bag.
He had a louder laugh than me.
Epic.
Milton had 6 children.
4 boys and 2 girls.
He said just 1 of his girls was more difficult to raise than all of his boys together.
Milton is an old fashioned kind-of guy.
My favorite.
He worked his way through Tennessee Weslyen (then a 2-year college), then went to engineering school at UT, and finished off at Northwestern.
Milton lives in Boston now in an old colonial with his wife of 61 years.
They met when he was in the war--
she was a nurse.
They wrote letters.
He still keeps the one where she agreed to marry him in his wallet.
He let me read it, and apologized for the scandelous parts.
The most scandelous thing on that paper said: "I can't wait to kiss your lips."
Milton was legit.
I was sad to see my new friends go, but ready to begin my journey.

We broke off in to two groups, and went in two serparate vans.
KP got car sick and almost threw up.
That was the most exciting part about that trip.
We then dropped our stuff off at the hotel, I made a quick eye-makeup application, and headed to lunch.
Ollie's Trolley.
I think Shane almost danced, he was so excited.
I ate a burger--it was greasy--it may kill me.
Then we headed to the hill.
Not WKU's, but the capitol's.

We headed to Brett Guthrie's office (my representative)--
and I sat at my future desk, I mean, Brett's desk. :)
We went on a tour of the building, and as exhausted as I was, the intensity of the moment did not pass me by.
I walked the same halls as the greatest minds, stood at the same spot as Abraham Lincoln, stared at a painting of...Pocahantas???!
Nice.
I actually glimpsed the gates of Hell--and I didn't know Nancy Pelosi's office would be so big. :)
When our tour finished up, we headed to eat some supper, then went back to the hotel.
I fell asleep.
And by sleep, I mean I died for a while.
It was lovely.

Oh--and in case you were wondering--I handled the Subway quite nicely.
All-in-all, the city open up its arms, and I jumped in.
Thanks, D.C., you're not too bad.

Signed,
Hunter Stevens