Marco... Polo...

President Obama held a fund raiser in Seattle today at 3:00pm. The contribution required for attendance was out of my price range, so I didn’t attend. Around the time the event started, I was driving home from work. At some point, my car made a weird noise - BRRRRUMMPPP BRRRRUMMPPP BRRRRUMMPPP. I pulled into the parking lot of the Marco Polo Motel to investigate, and found I had a flat rear tire. Sigh. After AAA came and changed my tire, I headed off to the tire store. My new tire installation would take a couple hours, so I walked to a coffee shop for the wait. When I returned to the tire store, I still had about a half hour to wait. The TV was turned to CNN, so I watched it with two knuckles shoved up my nostrils (to block the bad tire smell). The news dude reported that the President was landing in Los Angeles for a fund raiser dinner at George Clooney’s house. WTF??? While my car was having tire issues, President Obama came and went and arrived in Los Angeles??? How is that possible? Were Dorothy’s ruby slippers involved? That must have been a magical 3 1/2 hours. I guess it’s good I didn’t have the $40K required for the Clooney dinner, because the whole tire thing would have messed it up for me. Plus, my wardrobe is kind of lacking. OK, “lacking” is putting it mildly. There is a pervasive theme of dumpy housewife/lumberjack throughout my closet. Pretty sad. But damn... dinner with the President AND George Clooney... at his house. If I’d had enough warning I might have been able to rob a bank, gotten a wardrobe whisperer and had a makeover. I assume an invitation would have been required as well, but since this is all a fantasy anyway, I choose to ignore that part. Oh well, I got a new tire. The bad tire smell is gone from my nose. And I can say I’ve been to a flea bag motel on Aurora Ave. Marco... Polo...