OK, here’s more info about my weird life. When I was growing up, politicians and pundits were my celebrities. Hollywood had nothing on Washington, D.C. Political power was far more appealing than box office power.
When I moved to the nation’s capital in 1998, I was always on the lookout for people I used to see on talking head shows. I soon got my wish. I once saw Sam Donaldson walking down the street (he did a double-take when he saw me and I never knew why) and George Will standing near a Metro station.
I was beyond excited after landing a coveted job on Capitol Hill. We had small TVs on our desks and were paid to watch floor debates (which I loved; seems strange now) and monitor the cable news channels. I attended a weekly Bible study in Senator Jesse Helms’s office and used to see him rolling down the hall in his motorized cart. He always smiled, as did Robert Byrd. I’d see then-Senator John Ashcroft and Senator Orrin Hatch in the halls, but they never smiled. 
I grew up reading every book on the Kennedy family I could get my hands on. I was, I admit, fascinated with them. The first time I saw Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy at the Capitol building, I talked about it for weeks, even though I didn’t like him. (Read about Teddy’s albatross) One day while I was trying to get into the Senate gallery to watch Bill Clinton’s impeachment trial, Eunice Kennedy Shriver, Ted’s sister (and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s mother-in-law), walked right past me.
I used to play a game called “Your Kennedy Story,” similar to Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. I theorized that everyone has either met or seen a Kennedy in person, or knew someone who had.
While working on the Hill, I finally got a first-hand “Kennedy story” of my own (Eunice Kennedy didn’t count), and Congressman Patrick Kennedy’s recent mishap (wrecking his car on Capitol Hill last week while drunk and drug-addled) gives me an opportunity to share it. (Check Google News for details on the accident.)
For those who don’t know, Patrick is Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy’s younger son.
I was late for work one day and the employee garage was full. I drove around the block several times hoping to find a parking space. Driving up to the same stop sign for the 10th time, I decided to pretend it was a yield sign. As I slowed down, ready to hit the gas again, I slammed on the brakes. Walking in front of the car, his view obscured by an armful of stuff, was Congressman Patrick Kennedy, the same guy currently in the spotlight for drinking, driving, and hitting security barriers. He must have sensed the car because he slowed and looked around his bundle, eyes wide. I gave a weak “Sorry about that” smile, and he continued on his way.
I almost ran over a Kennedy. 
Do you have a Kennedy story? If not, answer this question: Do you think the congressman should resign?
Other bloggers: Baldilocks blogs about differences between Rep. Cynthia McKinney’s treatment (for slugging a Capitol Hill cop) and Kennedy’s. A libertarian blogger compares Rush Limbaugh’s former drug problem with Kennedy’s current one.
Addendum: You know, alcoholism is a nasty thing. I don’t know whether it’s hereditary or not, but Patrick’s mother Joan and father Ted are both former drunks (although his mother’s probably still drinking). He’d better get some serious help before he kills someone, too.
Another Addendum: I forgot to mention something (probably on purpose). While having dinner at B. Smith’s with friends a few years ago, I met Bill Clinton. This was post-presidency. He and his entourage came into the restaurant and went to a banquet room. They must have been in a hurry because about 20 minutes later, they were leaving. For some reason, Clinton made a beeline to our table and shook everyone’s hand. I don’t recall anyone signaling him over. Since my mother taught me to be polite to folks, I shook his extended hand. 
