Sarah's Palin Project: Part Three (The Meeting)

So, I met Sarah Palin.

It took a total of $17.65, six hours of waiting in line, and a whole lot of patience, but part three of Sarah's Palin Project has been accomplished.

Since I'm mostly a writer of fiction, shall I give it to you in prose?  Yeah, I agree.

First, let me begin with the letter I wrote to Governor Palin.  It was extremely difficult for me to sit down and start the letter.  I already had a few inklings of what I wanted to say, but so many thoughts were literally racing through my head that it was hard to organize and even make my fingers move.  I started typing on Friday during first period Foundations of Animation class, and continued through fourth period Study Hall and lunch period.  The letter was not finished, much less typed, so I sped home (thank God the good Richland County law enforcers did not see me) and immediately went to my computer at 4:00.  It took me twenty minutes to finish up the letter, and even then, I wasn't happy with it.

I've never had much luck with printers.  I have bought a total of four since November 2009.  They just always quit working for me or the ink cartridges fall out or the cords don't match my computer...it's seriously a curse.  I suddenly realized that oh my gosh, I haven't set up my new HP yet, and I didn't have time to set it up since it was already 4:20 and I had to be at Books-a-Million at 4:30.  So I ran down the sidewalk to the lovely ladies in my apartment complex's office and begged them to let me use their printer.  Unfortunately, I emailed myself the file rather than using a flash drive (since I'm cursed with flash drives as well; they always grow legs and run away from me).  And of course the office employees told me that their boss was on the phone with Time Warner, trying to have their Internet repaired.  They had zero Internet connection.

It was 4:25 by then.  So I thanked them, hopped in the truck, and my sweet father and I drove to Sandhill.  I was trying to figure out how in the world I was going to print this letter.  I couldn't think of any Internet cafes on Two Notch Road, and of course any other street is entirely out of the way.  Daddy begrudgingly pulled into Sandhill, telling me that I would have to find another way to give Governor Palin a piece of my mind.  And by kismet--or God--I spied the Family Christian Store, which happens to be filled with employees who adore my mom because she probably pays their bills by buying every piece of merchandise they have for sale.  I told Dad to pull into the parking lot and I ran into the store, trying to maintain some sort of professionalism.  I'm sure I looked like an overachiever, with my dressy coat, iPhone in hand, and my speech:  "Hi, my name is Sarah Meadows.  I'm on my way to see Sarah Palin in Books-a-Million.  I've taken a project upon myself to give her a letter expressing the thoughts of a young American citizen, but I have a problem:  I wasn't able to print it at home.  Is there any way I can use your printer?"

I think the manager recognized me since I'm in there all the time with my mom.  As soon as he verified that I wasn't printing a hate speech toward anyone, he told me that he would be happy to print it for me.  There was a problem, however: his computer at work had security features that only allowed his company's email program to be open, and he could only receive emails from his company.  But his solution was for me to use my iPhone to email my file to one of his supervisors, and in turn his supervisor could forward it to him.  Of course, he needed his supervisor's permission. So he was on the phone with his supervisor for a good ten minutes while I frantically tried to send my file to the supervisor.

Unfortunately, my iPhone would shut down every time I would try to pull up my email.  I took the long route and pulled up Safari, logged into Hotmail, sent the file...and then the phone shut down again.  And again.

So I found my dad, swapped phones with him, and voila: it worked like magic.  But the supervisor was on the road, and it would take him a while to receive and forward the email.  After fifteen more minutes, the manager of Family Christian Store received the file...but for some reason, the computer wouldn't open it.  So I came up with another idea: I could open the file on my iPhone (which was somehow working again), copy the text, paste the text into an email, send it to the supervisor, and have it forwarded to the manager.  After ten more minutes, this finally worked.  Of course the formatting of the letter was screwed up, but since it was after 5:00, I didn't have time to edit it.  Microsoft Word would not work on the computer, so the sweet manager printed the letter straight from his email and allowed me to cut the HTML headings off with a pair of scissors.  He also didn't charge me for the paper, which is always a blessing.

After I thanked everyone involved profusely, we rushed to Books-a-Million and were dismayed to see the line was awfully long.  (I'm sorry for the lack of proper pictures to document the crowd and signing, but cell phones weren't allowed due to Governor Palin's security regulations, which I definitely understand.) While Dad parked the truck, I went and took the place in the back of the line.  I'll also add that while I was wearing a sweater, jeans, and a heavy coat, I was freezing and it looked like rain was coming.  Fortunately, I was told that the line was in numerical order, and since my wristband was #336, I was able to move up in the line of 550 people.  Dad quickly joined me and we took our spots in line by the sweet ladies we had met while buying the wristbands, which offered great conversation.

Governor Palin hadn't even arrived yet.  The great BAM employees were able to let most people into the warm, dry store.  I get cold very easily, so I was especially grateful for this.  Now that I had my letter sealed in an envelope with a written apology for the poor formatting, I could relax and enjoy the three hour wait.  The governor had obviously arrived at some point, because the line kept inching forward and we saw people leaving the store, books in hand and smiles on faces.  It felt like a hundred years later when I finally stepped up to the black curtain, but I have to admit it kind of sneaked up on me.  I was probably discussing socialism, the SAT, piercings, or something with the women around me, and then--bam!--I was suddenly four feet away from Sarah Palin, and my letter was suddenly burning a hole in my pocket.  (I kept it in my coat pocket in fear that a security guard would snatch it away from me and accuse me of administering anthrax or something equally nefarious.)

Being only 5'1, I was standing on my tiptoes to try to see her.  I could see her through the slightly-sheer curtain, and I immediately recognized the way her hair on top was pulled back--and those famous glasses.  But when I stepped inside the curtain, I saw immediately that she was wearing black boots.  They weren't a pair of boots that I would necessarily buy, but for some reason, they screamed Sarah Palin.  The woman in front of me finally stepped forward to the table, and I saw her.

Governor Palin looked adorable in her black suit, fluffy white scarf, and specs, but what I first realized was that she had a huge smile on her face.  She held the woman's hand as they discussed military service.  The stranger in front of me was a veteran, and Governor Palin simply couldn't thank her enough for her service.  They talked for a good minute until I could finally step up.  I already was impressed with the governor just from the way she was so kind to the woman in front of me.

Governor Palin gave me a huge smile, grabbed a book, and caressed my hand between hers, like we were old friends.  I noticed immediately that she had the soft hands that are so unique to mothers.  (I believe you can tell a lot by a person's hands.  Hands fascinate me.  It's like they have their own story to tell.)  She asked me brightly, "How are you?"

"I'm great," I replied.  "I'm a Sarah, too.  It's so nice to meet you."

"It's wonderful to meet you," she said in a bubbly tone.  "How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, a senior in high school."

"Wonderful!  What are you going to do after this year?"  Her eyes appraised me as she expertly signed my book.

"I'm hoping to go to the University in Mississippi and major in English," I explained, sticking with the life plan I was feeling on that certain day.

Her eyes literally sparkled.  "Are you going to be a teacher?" she asked hopefully.

"Probably," I admitted.  "But I'm a writer at heart.  I'll be writing novels no matter what I do.  Probably some political books, too."

Her smile widened.  "That is so great!"

Honestly, I was astonished that I had received this much time with her.  She wasn't glancing back at the crowd, she wasn't drumming her fingers, she wasn't reaching for another book.  Her eyes were transfixed on me.  "I have a question," I said, trying to sound nice and bold at the same time, but a little fearful that I was about to be tackled by security.  "I wrote you a letter...can I give it to you?  It's just a young American's point of view on our country."

And once again, her eyes lit up.  "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed.  "Absolutely!  Thank you!"

So I pulled the letter out of my pocket.  "Sorry it's so crumpled," I said shyly.  "I didn't know if they would allow me to bring it in, so I had to sneak."

She laughed.  "No, I totally understand.  Let me write your name on the envelope so I'll be sure to read it on the airplane home tonight."  She took her Sharpie and scrawled my name on it before hesitating.  "Sarah with an h?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.  "The right way to spell it."

Again she laughed.  "I appreciate this so much."

My dad had stepped up then, so she turned to him.  "I'm Sarah's father," he explained.

Governor Palin gave him one of those warm smiles she's really quite good at.  "She is precious," she told him.  (Which I thought was pretty cool, of course.)

Daddy, of course, thanked her.  She wanted to know what he does for a living, and when he mentioned he retired from the Army, she gave him a very sincere "Thank you for your service."  She signed his book, they shook hands, and then we had to leave.

So yeah, Sarah Palin is just as sweet, genuine, and down-to-earth as she appears to be on television.  I have to admit that she was enchanting, to say the least.  I don't know if it is her sense of style, her charisma, her enthusiasm, or what, but she was so easy to relate to.  She is as real as they come.  I was pretty much on cloud nine over the simple fact that my letter had finally been printed and delivered to her.  It had certainly taken long enough, with lots of hoops to jump through just to print the letter!

Oh--just a little note.  Her youngest daughter Piper was there, standing next to her mom patiently.  I wanted to talk to Piper just because she is simply adorable but just before I could step up to the table, someone took her away.  (Probably to the Joe Muggs kiosk, if I had to guess, for a cupcake or something equally delicious.)  Piper was just as cute as her mother, in a tweed coat.  (I've been a Piper fan since she so lovingly cared for her little brother during her mother's speech, so I had to include that.)

So.  Now that I have a signed book and my letter has been delivered, I move on to part four of Sarah's Palin Project: wait for a response.

And wait, and wait, and wait....

The only picture I could take at BAM--so happy to finally wear my wristband!

 My signed book. I can't wait until I can have book-signings, though my handwriting will never be that pretty.

And ignore the picture of me. This was taken post-SAT.