In the few minutes before Bill Clinton spoke at the Democratic National Convention on Wednesday night, I was inching along the perimeter of the floor in the same type of delegate scrum I'd experienced the night before when the Pepsi Center started vomiting celebrities. Suddenly, I was literally bumping into Tim Daly, of Wings and The Sopranos fame, followed by Anne Hathaway (she's tiny) and Ellen Burstyn, who seemed pretty fragile. I hope none of the heftier representatives crushed her.
As soon as Clinton wrapped, I headed up and out of the venue's main bowl, figuring that witnessing Joe Biden trying to follow that act would be a bit like watching U2 fail to measure up to Rage Against the Machine. (I saw this last scenario back in the '90s; it can't be Bono's finest memory.) I miscalculated, of course: Had I stuck around, I would have caught Barack Obama's unannounced appearance live instead of on the tube. Oh well. Hopefully I'll see him today at Invesco Field -- from a really long distance away.
At any rate, I was heading toward the exit when I saw poor Spike Lee trying to put condiments on his hot dog while fending off not one but two camera crews. Being famous anywhere can be a trial -- but being famous in Denver has got to be the drag of a lifetime. -- Michael Roberts