I run into Newt. He still thinks my name is Andrew Jackson. I still can’t believe he thought HE was going to be the next Andrew Jackson. Every time he says ‘hello’ I just think of when he said, ‘I want to shift the entire planet. And I’m doing it. I am now a famous person. I represent real power’. Ugh, sometimes, man.
Get in a cab over to the Convention. I am drinking a Starbucks and the driver gives me the eye. I realize what’s happening…‘I prefer Dunkin’, I tell him (which is true). The guy smiles, nods, and later says, ‘No need for a tip’.
Most of the cab drivers in Tampa are in very good moods. They’re making a killing this week.
I do some interviews. Not naming names, but I’m really sick of being on panels with famous politicians’ daughters and sons. They are everywhere. And if there’s a panel, you can guarantee they are there. I guess they have an interesting perspective, but most do not.
The CNN Grill is still the place to be. Piers Morgan is on his fifth chocolate brownie of the week. John King is having a big lunch. Wolf Blitzer asks me what I thought of the Paul Ryan speech. I guess my answer is inadequate because he quickly asks if I even watched it. I tell him young people want to be the next Steve Jobs, and the Romney/Paul ticket should speak about their own entrepreneurial spirit. Wolf taps me on the shoulder and winks. Notch in my belt.