Jose and I were on our way to the airport at midday when I noticed that the southbound lanes of traffic were suddenly empty. Each entrance and each exit was blocked by a police car with flashing lights. We drove a mile or so — still empty, more police cars. “What is going on?” I wondered aloud again.
A couple police motorcycles appeared on the other side of the highway, speeding along. As I watched them, I suddenly remembered Jose saying something along the lines of: “The President must be coming here — there’s a temporary flight restriction in place for tomorrow.”
As we pondered this, at least a dozen police motorcycles sped by, followed by the distinctive limo with flags waving from the hood. Three limos, and behind those came black SUVs. One of them had the window rolled down, and a man rested an assault rifle against the windowsill.
And then they were gone!
That’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to a president — 60 feet away on the other side of the road for the split second it took to pass me.
Wow, an assault rifle? Crazy! Bush Sr was at the marathon in 2005 around mile 19 shaking hands with everyone. Naturally, that was the one year I didn’t get to run, because I had just had the kiddo.