Today...

... Vice President Cheney and I made eye contact.

OK. Maybe, maybe not. But it's possible. I was walking home from work and the vice president's motorcade went zipping by. It's the second time since I moved here that I've been a stone's throw from the vice president's motorcade. (Not that I would have thrown a stone - no need to call the Secret Service!) Apparently, he lives on Connecticut Avenue, which runs near my house and right alongside the building where I work.

Every afternoon, his motorcade goes down Connecticut. One day, my first week here, I was at lunch and was about to cross Connecticut when flashing lights and siren stopped me from doing so. But it wasn't the police - it was the motorcade. Then again, today, as I walked up 18th, there it was again. (There must have been something on Connecticut to necessitate a detour.)

The vice president. Right there. In a car, in the middle of broad daylight, just as if he wasn't the vice president. Oh, except for the whole motorcade thing.

It's something hard to explain, the thought that, as I looked up at that tinted glass, the vice president of the United States could have been looking back at me from the other side. (Not that he'd notice me. He never notices me anymore.)