My Brief Sojourn As a Washington Press Corps Imposter

"July, 1990, Ocean Reef Club, Key Largo, Florida — Well sir, your intrepid reporter never expected to see so many of his globetrotting newspaper colleagues at the seventh annual Broward Owners' Rendezvous, "Rock Around The Reef." But there they were, press corp buses, mobile satellite broadcasting trucks, communications command station tents, security helicopters-the whole enchilada. It was impressive P.R. indeed!
 

And if 18 sleek and shiny Broward megayachts moored in marina slips weren't enough to set you a-tingle, there was the promised appearance by none other than WOLFMAN JACK, that raucously rotund, gravel-throated, outlaw purveyor of TRUE rock and roll. I felt absolutely giddy. I was overcome by the spirit of my teen years.
 

So, when I realized that George Bush (you know, Dan Quayle's boss) happened to be meeting with Francois Mitterand at Ocean Reef that day, I just couldn't help myself. You see, there right in front of me was this press conference tent, and there were my fourth-estate cohorts filing in and, well, George is a boatman, isn't he?

Well sir, I slipped my Power and Motoryacht card into my Broward Rendezvous photo badge and marched right up the steps, figuring that I could get in one or two questions about bonefishing or whatever before they hauled me off to the looney bin.

Unfortunately, a couple of pretty dour guys in suits and socks (suits and socks in Florida?!) and Ray Ban sunglasses didn't see it that way. Did you know that you
need special Washington press corp accreditation to get into one of those things? Well, I'll be.

"Okay, okay, that's my skin you're rumpling! After all, I'm not dumb enough to wear a suit, let alone socks in Florida. Forget it, you've blown George's opportunity to be quoted in my column."

Luckily, the rest of the Broward rendezvous was great fun, with scads of hospitality, athletic games, a seminar on high-speed motor yachting, and lots of general conviviality — not to mention, ah yes, Wolfman Jack, who was ... as he always is, purely delightful.

Not that those guys in suits, socks, and Ray Bans could appreciate it.  — Phil Friedman"

Postscript:   Those were the days when a wiseacre writer like me could pull a dumb stunt like that without getting shot... and without being hauled off to some black site by Homeland Security. When we still had some sense of humor about things political. Fair winds and safe harbors. And cheers! — PLF

Author's Notes:   If you found this bit of reading worthwhile, you may want to take a look at a couple other of my posts:

"Three Points of Advice to My Teenage Daughter"

"Conversations With My Wife About My Writing"

"Conversation Isn't Just Waiting Politely to Speak"

"Why Executive Management Doesn't Get Bad News Until It's Too Late..."

 

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About me, Phil Friedman:  With 30 some years background in the marine industry, I've worn numerous hats — as a yacht designer, boat builder, marine operations and business manager, marine industry consultant, marine marketing and communications specialist, yachting magazine writer and editor, yacht surveyor, and marine industry educator. I am also trained and experienced in interest-based negotiation and mediation. In a previous life, I taught logic and philosophy at university.

Text Copyright 2016-17 by Phil Friedman — All Rights Reserved
Images Credits:  Phil Friedman and Google Images

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