Question: “Come on, there’s going to be a lot of traffic,” my mom told me as she urged me out the door. I willingly complied, got into the passenger’s seat of our car, and a second later, we were at the entryway to a house. This house was painted in dull, beige paint, and appeared to be nothing special. Upon walking through the entryway, I saw a small group of people clustered at the far end of the room, cameras in hand. It was then that I learned that the President was coming! I wondered why there weren’t more people here, but I figured my mom and I had gotten there well before Obama’s arrival. After almost no time at all, the group of people started filing through a doorway. I gladly followed, and found myself in a room with a winding ramp leading to a small open space. Standing there was President Obama. I soon reached the front of the line, shook the President’s hand and had my picture taken with him. I started to introduce myself, but instead, a huge wave of people pushed me through the doorway. There I was again, in front of the ordinary, beige house. There were no signs of commotion outside, only my mom’s white car waiting in the empty parking lot.

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