I walked in late, very late. (I used to be a very punctual person, but that quality was somehow lost during the last several years.) A big guy at the door pointed to a couple empty seats in the rear of the room, and I quietly hurried to the designated spot.

I was there for the same basic reason as everyone else; to hear some diverse opinions about the situation. Yet, I had an underlying motive for attending—he would be there. I had never met or spoken with him. Seeing him in person would be the highlight of my miserable week.

The proceedings were tediously boring, yet exciting. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see any of the speakers at the front table. But I knew he was there. He had promised.

All of a sudden, I heard a strange voice—a quiet, slowly deliberate, coolly warbling sound coming out of the speakers. It was him! I could barely contain my excitement. After many years, many attempts, I would finally see him.

Sometimes I had thought he was a myth or legend—a man of his stature and importance had seemed like an impossibility. Although I had seen the photographs and the news segments, I was never convinced. Could he really exist? Yes!

I’m not saying that he is my hero. It’s just that approaching a person of such extreme magnitude is unfathomable. Hearing his voice should have been enough, but I wanted to see him. Good God, I thought, what’s next? Would I want to talk to him too?

So I stood up. Call me irrational, call me what you will, but I had to do it. I had to see him. And there he was, slouched in his seat, adjusting his glasses. I felt faint.

For the next hour, I sat shaking, with my heart pounding every time I heard his voice. Thoughts raced through my mind as I swallowed and digested every word. I didn’t hear any other comments that afternoon—I only heard him.

Then, it ended; the last person had spoken. Everyone was rising, heading towards the exits. Between heads, I could still see him as he walked out the front door. That was it. I would not have the chance to speak with him. But I had had enough anyway.

As I walked out of the building, seeing the news cameras and photographers, a minor miracle happened. I heard his voice right behind me! I peeked over my shoulder. It was him! He was walking with another man, following me.

They had stopped talking when they noticed me look at them. I had so much to say, so much to ask. Yet, I could hear him breathing. This was the perfect time to say something, anything.

But, what could I say? I was hoping he would shout after me, engaging me in conversation. I looked at him again. He looked tired. It had been a trying day.

Finally, I ran away. Seeing the president up close had been too much.