“Stanley, we can’t hide from Americans. Let us drive on. If we have our path blocked, I am sure we can find our way through, slowly at least. Surely these protestors, good citizens that they are, would allow the motorcade through. Besides this is not the regular swearing in. It is just me, some family, a few friends and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court over at the White House in a nice safe and secure room. This will not be a huge public spectacle. Besides, they can’t start the ceremony without us. If we are a little late because of traffic, I think it will be fine,” he said with a wink.
Secretly he hoped that no one would realize he was trying to avoid a helicopter ride. He didn’t like them very much. Airplanes he didn’t mind, but helicopters, he distrusted for some reason. He could never really put his finger on what he didn’t like, but he was almost certain it had something to do with their lack of wings. Things that flew were supposed to have wings in his mind. Anything else was black magic, and not to be trusted.
He saw Roxanne roll her eyes just a little bit, “Sir, we need to be concerned with your safety and security more than ever. Usually no one wants to take out a Vice President, but a President, now that is a much different story.”
“Roxanne, I am the President’s friend, a member of his administration, I was his running mate, and I am the one hope that these people have to heal the wounds of this country. These people are aware of all of this. I am sure they mean me no harm. Besides, do you really think they would be able to setup the protest location assuming I would be driving through, and they could take a shot at me? I doubt that kind of planning could have gone on without some intelligence service getting wind of it,” he argued.
He waved his hand dismissively, realizing she still seemed unconvinced, so he continued his sales pitch, “Besides, this is a heavily armored car, and I am wearing a bullet proof vest that the Secret Service was nice enough to give me. Stan, do not change course.”
He also did not want to appear to have an elitist attitude of someone who would rather fly above the “commoners.” It was something many of the younger generation of politicians would rather do. He was an old-school politician and really loved the retail politics of shaking hands with voters, one hand at a time.
Stan, being the eternally professional agent merely replied, “Yes, sir.” He spoke into his microphone to relay the news to the remainder of the protection detail.
The Vice President was enjoying the silence. Everyone in the car was silent now, taking in the moment. He knew it wasn’t unusual for a Secret Service agent to resemble a piece of furniture and fade silently into the background while taking in every detail of their surroundings. It was rare to have his staff members, even his chief of staff remain silent for any period of time while in his presence. There was always something to discuss, and this would only get worse in the days ahead. The gravity of what was going on today was not lost upon anyone in the car, including the driver, and his deputy chief of staff who was seated in the front of the limousine next to the driver.
Stanley had once given him one of the best compliments he had received in his entire life. He had said that from his years with numerous protectees, that those who behaved as he did were the good ones. There was a different mindset of those who took the helicopters just because they could, charged every little expense to the government, or took rare moments, such as this one, and talked them away. Those who did believed themselves to be larger than the office they held. They also tended to perform poorly in it as a result of misplaced priorities.
As the motorcade neared the Jefferson Memorial, the protestors could be heard before they could be seen. Vice President Sanders moved so he could see out the windshield to get a look at them. The radio had announced that their numbers were continuing to swell as the “final hour of disgrace,” was how the radio host had put it, for the President was rapidly approaching.
He saw Stanley put his finger to his ear for a second before breaking the relative silence again, “Sir, we have people clearing the road for us, but it will be very slow going from here. Usually these things stay on the mall area, but apparently there is a large amount of overflow causing road blockage on almost every possible path forward. At this point the crowd has been non-violent, and while the police appear to have everything under control, we should still take precautions. Please remember, Mister Vice President, you are about to take over the office of President, and people who don’t actually know you will still want to do harm to you for no other reason than your job title.”
“Thank you, Stanley. I am not worried. These are hardworking Americans and they should be celebrated for exercising their right to peaceful assembly. Using police, armed guards, and armored vehicles to avoid them is, in my opinion, not the spirit upon which this country was founded. I’m going to get out and walk the rest of the way, maybe shake some hands as well, it isn’t that far from here,” the Vice President replied.
He could feel his energy returning. Perhaps it was just an adrenalin rush because of the crowd, but he was starting to feel young again.
Perhaps he could run for re-election. Perhaps he could do the hard work that was needed to heal the country from its wounds.
“Sir, we don’t have the proper size security contingent here to handle that kind of exposure. I would strongly advise against it. The local police are not trained to look for threats the way the Secret Service is,” the agent was professional, yet calm, as he gave the warning.
“I am not concerned. I’ll just get out and walk the last few blocks. Who knows, it may give these people some relief from their anxiety to be reminded that it will be me taking the proverbial reigns today. They are here protesting the premature removal of the man that chose me as his running mate. Besides, as you said, there have been no reports of violence. I am sure with the Secret Service and police working together that no harm will come to me,” the Vice President argued.
As a politician he had spent his entire adult life trying to sway people to share his point of view. As a result of this, he had gotten relatively good at it. He also knew that he had just convinced everyone in the car of his decision. Not even Roxanne bothered arguing, but he was sure everyone would worry, despite his logical arguments.
“Mister Vice President, please permit me get out first, and follow me as I walk. My team will flank you, someone will never be more than an arm’s length away. Do not move too slowly, and do not stop. Just keep moving,” came Stanley’s professional reply.
The agent raised his wrist-mounted microphone to his mouth, “Listen up everyone. We are getting out of the vehicles to walk the final few blocks, be prepared.”
Once they came to the back of the protest area the agents exited the vehicles and took up their positions. Instantly, those in the crowd closest to the motorcade took notice and got somewhat quieter wanting to know who was arriving. He smiled as he thought that some of them were probably hoping for yet another Hollywood celebrity to come and endorse their cause. Many got their camera phones ready, wanting to be the first to post whoever it was to their social media sites with the right hashtag in the hopes of being the viral photo of the day.
As soon as he got out of the limousine he stood up and waved, and the protesters exploded with sound. There was a combination of cheers, boos, and other far less polite sounds emanating from the crowd.
He had been around long enough as a politician to know that it was impossible find a crowd this large where everyone was a supporter, at least not without careful screening beforehand. That level of screening only happened during an election year, and even then only with crowds designed for television broadcasts. He merely smiled and waved at the crowd, despite those obviously displeased by his presence.