How Redeye Saved CPAC
Chapter 1: Where Bill Uncovers a Plot and Meets the Girl of His Dreams
Bill tested the tiny balcony with his foot before slowing shifting more of his weight to the floor and climbing all the way out of the window. So, it's come to this, he thought, catching a smoke on a decorative balcony he wasn't really sure would hold his weight. Bill turned his back to the wind. His lighter sparked and ignited his cigarette, which he inhaled deeply. He had just leaned back against the window, leading to his cramped hotel room, and closed his eyes when he heard two voices from the balcony below. The thought of other guests getting a smoke and violating the hotel wide smoking ban made him smile.
"We are planning the shut down at 9:00 am Saturday just as Breitbart starts speaking," said a high clear voice from below.
"Why not sooner? That leaves all night tonight and all day Friday before we make our move."said a second voice, muffled by a mouth full of food.
"Because, a lot of people don't show up until today and they could repair the problems before Saturday morning, and I want to get that bastard Breitbart. If we do this right, the whole day will be shot. Lights, heat, sound, fire extinguisher system. They will have to empty the entire hotel."
John's voice rose a little higher "If I shut down his speech this time, then no one would hire him again." John wiped the sweat off of his upper lip. He was sweating under his light jacket despite the cold weather and his closeness to Max on the tiny balcony.
"Um, yeah, well, maybe, but no one is going to know it was you or why you did it, right? That's what you said." Max pulled out a partially eaten beef jerky from his pants pocket and tore a piece off with a sideways gnawing motion.
"Don't worry, you won't be involved. How many of those are you going to eat?" John had gotten Max to come with him by promising to pay all the expenses and to buy him all the gas station treats he wanted.
"I love beef jerky. I'll eat as many as you buy me." Max stowed the partially eaten beef jerky back in his pants pocket as he turned to open the window. "Can we go back inside now? I really don't think our room is bugged."
"Yeah, but let's not say anything in the room just in case, " said John, climbing into the window after Max.
Bill had gradually stopped smiling as he heard bits of the conversation below. It was windy with blowing snow so he didn't hear all of it, but didn't want to lean over the wrought iron balcony railing to hear more. Hearing the window opening below, he decided to take a peak and leaned over the side just in time to see bright blue slacks and black shoes with white socks pulled into the room while the window closed.
Bill jumped as a loud rapping sound came from behind him on the window. He turned as Andy opened it.
"Found a place to smoke. Excellent. Will it hold both of us?" said Andy as he squeezed into the space beside Bill, not waiting for an answer.
"Give me a cigarette," Andy said, motioning to Bill's pack.
"No. Get your own cigarettes. You hate it when people mooch cigarettes from you."
"I know. That's why I like Baptists and Mormons. Although, the Baptists mooch cigarettes from me when they are by themselves, which is why I like Mormons more."
Bill looked at Andy and really wanted to say, no.
"Bill, give me a god damned cigarette, you know how cranky I get."
Bill knew.
"Fine. Here." Bill waited for Andy to light up then said, "There were a couple of guys on the balcony just below us talking. It sounded like they were going to do something to the convention center right before Breitbart goes on stage Saturday morning."
"Like what? Like a prank?"
"No, not like a prank. They called it 'a shut down'. They sounded angry and disturbed, not prankish."
"Whatever. There are some jerks from Code Pink here and some other crazies. They always want to disrupt. Security can handle it." Andy returned to concentrating on smoking.
Bill would have liked to talk about anything just to keep his mind off the wind and the cold, but Andy was, as usual, deep in thought about something. It was a gamble to start any conversation with Andy. He could start talking about sports, something Bill understood and was interested in, or the cultural and political significance of super hero characters in the 20th century; not something Bill was interested in. Bill didn't want to listen to whatever esoterica Andy might come up with.
"Done?" said Bill as Andy finished his cigarette and put it out on the banister
"Yeah, let's go. I'm going to the bar. One of the waitresses looked totally hot." said Andy throwing his butt on the floor of the balcony and working his 5' 11" frame through the small window.
"Why did you do that?" said Bill, picking up the butt. "Go get me the trash can, will you? I hate cleaning up after you. And, did you ever think about asking a woman out for an actual date?"
"God, that is so much trouble later."
"Wait a minute. How did you get in here anyway?" said Bill closing the window.
"I knocked. Your door wasn't latched. It just came open when I knocked."
"Something else to talk to the front desk about."
Bill checked the latch as he left the room and tested the door before he joined Andy at the elevator.
The elevator stopped at the floor just below and two men got on. Bill recognized the pants color immediately as the same color from the balcony below his. Andy was not paying attention to the men but was busy examining his bald spot in the mirrored ceiling tiles. He gave a grunt and looked at Bill, grimacing and pointing to his head. One of the men heard the grunt and looked around. The man was munching on a beef jerky and had several more flopping from the top shirt pocket. Bill's eyes were drawn to the shirt pocket logo which had the word "security" stitched on it. The two men got off on the second floor, mezzanine level.
Bill turned to Andy and said, "That was the color of pants that the people wore on the balcony below me when they were talking about the 'shut down'." Bill made air quotes. "They work for security!"
Andy was still looking at the top of his head in the mirror tile ceiling of the elevator. "Bill, it could have been any pants."
"No way it could have been that color blue. That is a unique color blue. No one wears that color blue." Andy gave Bill a disbelieving look. "Ok, ok, maybe I have worn that color blue, but not on a pant." said Bill. "Would you call that a royal blue?"
"No, it was more of a dress blue." said Andy.
"Dress blue, what is dress blue? No one knows what dress blue would be like." said Bill.
"They would if they were a real American." said Andy. "But if you insist, you can call it a dark periwinkle."
"Dark periwinkle? Really?" said Bill, shaking his head.
The elevator doors opened at the first floor. Andy headed for the bar next to the Atrium foyer while Bill went toward the front desk.
Bill was confused about what to do next; tell the front desk what exactly? That he heard some people say some stuff on a balcony who may or may not work for security. This was not going to be fun, it will take up a lot of drinking time and would probably make him look stupid. Bill was already bored by the time he reached the counter. He became much less bored when the counter attendant lifted her head from the computer screen.
"Hi, my name is Bill." He smiled his suave smile. "How are you doing?" Bill leaned over the counter a little. "Your name is?"
"Elana." she said.
Bill saw her mouth moving but didn't really hear what she said. She had olive colored skin, light eyes and dark brown hair falling in waves to her shoulders. Her mouth was moving again and Bill tried to concentrate. "What can I help you with, sir?" she said.
"Yes, I have a couple of things. My friend told me the latch on my room wasn't closed when he knocked on the door." As soon as he said it, he realized how lame that sounded. "I mean, uh, that's no big deal but it would be nice if someone looked at it anyway." Elana's shoulders sagged a little as she moved officiously to the computer screen. "But that is not really what I wanted to talk to someone about. In fact, just forget about that. I wanted to talk to someone about a conversation I heard on the balcony."
Elana looked at Bill, somewhat blankly. She was waiting for the obligatory, "when are you off work," comment, but she was not going to get involved with someone she met at work. Again. "Ok, what balcony.? What happened?"
Bill leaned closer to Elana over the marble topped counter and lowered his voice so he wouldn't be overheard by the other people in the lobby. "Well, I was on my balcony, room 568, and I overheard some people below me. It sounded as if they were planning some prank or something before the Breitbart speech on Saturday morning. They seemed like they were serious about it. I caught site of a bright blue pant leg when I looked down and I think it was the same color as your security uniforms here at the hotel."
"So you're saying that you think some security guards were on the balcony below you and they were planning some kind of prank before a speech? For who?"
"Breitbart. He is one of the first speakers on Saturday morning for the CPAC conference, in the main ballroom. It seemed more serious than a prank." Bill looked at her and realized there was no way Elana was going to go out with him and he really wanted to join Andy in the bar.
"So who were these guys and how do you know they were security?" said Elana. Elana began fake typing into the computer. She looked down occasionally to make it look good.
Bill told her about the men on the elevator and their uniforms. "I think you could call the color dark periwinkle, it was distinctive." Bill said smiling.
"Mmmm. I have no idea what dark periwinkle would look like, but just stay here for a second, I have to check on something." Elana went to a more private phone at the back of the counter area and made a phone call. She considered faking the phone call too but decided that since he had come up with the color "dark periwinkle" she would give him the benefit of the doubt.
As Elana, walked away to make the phone call, Bill tired to find a neutral spot to look. He looked at her back then deciding that would be creepy, looked down, then at the ceiling. He was saved from embarrassment by a fan asking him for a picture. He quickly got the picture taken and turned around just in time for Elana to see the fan walk away: he felt his stock rising.
"Well," Elana said, returning to the front desk and watching the fan walk away giggling at her cell phone picture, "I talked to the security manager on shift and he said there shouldn't have been security guards on that floor. Usually they don't go up to the rooms at this time of day unless they are called. They should definitely not have been on a balcony. Where did you say these guys went?"
"Oh, thank God." Bill said relieved. "They got off on the second floor." He couldn't wait to be rid of this problem and get back to what he had come here for: meet his friends, have some drinks, talk to some new people. "If you need me, I will be in the bar and you know my room number. Um, that is I will be at the bar for a while, not all the time...just having a drink or two..."
"Yes, I have your room number, Mr. Schultz. And, I notice that you don't actually have a room with a balcony," said Elana. Bill looked down at the counter and started to form a word when Elana cut him off. "Never mind, I will contact you if we need more information. You will be able to identify them?"
"Yes, and I will be able to identify the smell too. I hate the smell of beef jerky." Bill could feel his stomach contracting slightly as he thought of the smell.
Bill turned to go and then turned back to the desk, "One more thing...would you be willing to go..."
"No." Elana, said without looking up.
"OK." Said Bill, and headed toward the bar.
Bill was dodging CPAC convention goers as he walked from the hotel desk to the bar. He took several more pictures with fans as he went and occasionally turned to see if Elana was watching. She wasn't. It took him about 15 minutes to get from the lobby desk to the main atrium when he heard his name being called from the top of the escalator. He looked up to see his boss, Greg Gutfeld. But what caught Bill's eye was not Greg, but Max, the Beef Jerky man, strolling from right to left on the mezzanine. He was talking on a walky-talky and then looked down over the railing to another man on the ground floor. The man on the ground floor was not dressed in a uniform, as Bill expected, but in a normal suit. The men nodded to each other as they signed off the walkies and then went in opposite directions.
Bill was dodging CPAC convention goers as he walked from the hotel desk to the bar. He took several more pictures with fans as he went and occasionally turned to see if Elana was watching. She wasn't. It took him about 15 minutes to get from the lobby desk to the main atrium when he heard his name being called from the top of the escalator. He looked up to see his boss, Greg Gutfeld. But what caught Bill's eye was not Greg, but Max, the Beef Jerky man, strolling from right to left on the mezzanine. He was talking on a walky-talky and then looked down over the railing to another man on the ground floor. The man on the ground floor was not dressed in a uniform, as Bill expected, but in a normal suit. The men nodded to each other as they signed off the walkies and then went in opposite directions.
