Though I was little disappointed at the time, I have come to realize that the meeting in the Rose Garden was largely ceremonial. It was not meant as a policy symposium where the President debated the future of the country with a group of teenagers.

But there are situations where a politician needs to take unscripted questions from a potentially hostile audience. Sally was in the audience for an MTV special (the boxers-or-briefs one) when Presidential candidate Bill Clinton debated the future of the country with a group of teenagers.

She wasn’t feeling well that day, and decided not to ask any questions. After the taping, Clinton mingled with the crowd. When he shook hands with Sally, he looked her in the eye, and said, “Why didn’t you ask me a question? I think everybody else here did.”

Stunned that he he had recognized her as the person who did not ask a question, she stammered out a reply. “I’m not feeling well, and I didn’t want to be on TV and look and sound sick.”

“Well,” he said, leaning in closer, “if you weren’t sick, what question would you have asked me?”

She says she felt like the only person in the room with him, and they were surrounded by dozens of other people. Love him or hate him, Bill Clinton was no ordinary politician.

“I can’t believe he can’t field questions from a group of 17-year-olds.” Dan was saying this to no one in particular as we were finding our seats in the Rose Garden.

“Relax,” said Mario. “The guy probably just doesn’t want any curveballs. It’d look even worse, because we’re 17-year-olds.”

“You’re just saying that ’cause you get to ask him a question.”

From nowhere I could ascertain, a disembodied voice announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the President of the United States.” And from that same nowhere “Hail to the Chief” started to play.

Someone opened a side door, and Ronald Reagan came striding into the garden. He sprung up the steps to the make-shift stage and stood behind the podium, which had been adorned with the Presidential Seal while we had our heads turned.

He welcomed us to the White House, made a speech I cannot even remember, then asked if any of us had questions for him. I was not a huge Reagan supporter (nor a huge detractor for that matter), but even the very little amount of pomp surrounding our visit impressed me, as I’m certain it’s designed to. I wondered if Dan had been equally impressed, and turned to ask him, when his hand popped into the air.

“I’m totally gonna throw him that curveball.”

Whether President Reagan thought Dan looked a little too eager, or whether he was just lucky that day, we’ll never know. He didn’t call on Dan. But he did call on Mario, who asked the question he was supposed to, in spirit if not in letter.

“So, yeah, Mr President, whaddya think of Mikhail Gorbachev? Is he like a good guy?”

I don’t remember the answer.

After the questions, Reagan stepped off the stage and mingled with the crowd for a few minutes, shaking hands and posing for pictures. Before walking back inside, he pointed and waved at some windows in the residence. Nancy Reagan was standing in one of them, waving back. She stopped for a moment, bent over out of our view, and when she reappeared, she was holding their dog, Rex. She waved his paw at us.

When I was a teenager, I was active in politics. All of the ASB stuff, but some local, real politics, and a little national involvement as well. I met more politicians and office-holders than I can remember, and with a few exceptions, they all had one quality in common. I would call it distractedness, but that word doesn’t quite fit.

It is a feeling that, when they are talking to you, they’re thinking about 10 other things. They are looking at you, but not really listening. The best illustration of it I’ve seen is Al Pacino’s performance in City Hall. The combination of distractedness, deflection, and denial he uses to define his character is an incredible performance in an otherwise average film.

I understand that I’m not particularly important, and most of these politicians do have other things on their minds. What for me might have been a memorable moment, was for them something quickly forgotten. They seem to want these meetings with the public to be quick, predictable, and uneventful.

In the summer of 1986, I was a delegate to Boys’ Nation. For those who are not familiar with Boys’ Nation, it is a fantastic program sponsored by the American Legion. Every year, two boys are selected from each state to travel to Washington, DC and learn about the nation’s history and government. One hot August day, all 100 of us delegates were waiting in line to tour the Old Executive Office Building. I was talking with my friends Dan and Mario when guys wearing dark suits and fusilli wires in their ears started pulling a few people out of line. One of those pulled out was Mario.

After a few minutes, Mario got back in line next to me and Dan.

“What was that about?” I asked.

He handed me a small piece of paper. On it was typed, “What are your impressions of Mikhail Gorbachev?”

I looked back at him. “Is this…?”

He held his hands up. “I dunno. They just asked me a few questions, and then gave me this piece of paper.”

After a trip through the metal detectors, we were corralled into a small auditorium in the OEOB. A woman walked to the front of the stage.

“OK, welcome to the OEOB!” she said. “As you probably have started to suspect, in a few minutes, you are all going to meet with President Reagan in the Rose Garden.”

The audience started murmuring, and a few people cheered. Though I hadn’t yet conceived of the list, I was about to fulfill item #21 – Meet a US President.

Once we settled down, she continued, going over some basic rules and the protocol of meeting the President. Then she told us one last thing.

“The President will be taking questions, but only those who have already been spoken with are to raise their hands. If I didn’t speak to you personally before we came into this room, you are not to raise your hand when the President asks for questions.”

My friend Dan was excited, but for a reason I hadn’t considered. As we stood and started to walk over to the White House, he shook his head and said just one thing.

“I’m gonna raise my hand anyway.”