How does the frightening fact that my daughter now has a beginner’s driving permit connect with the frightening fact that the White House Party Crashers so easily waltzed in to exchange air-kisses with the most powerful man in the civilized world? Here’s the chain:
1. This morning, she (the daughter, not the sari-wearing blonde crasher) wanted to drive to breakfast, but she did not have her permit or her contacts with her, so we said no. And no. And no. And no. (That’s one “no” for each increasingly shrill demand.)
2. She said and said that if she got stopped, she would just tell the officers that she left the permit at home, or lost it, and that she could see just fine without her contacts.
3. This led me to say what generations of fathers have said: Sweetheart, the police have heard every conceivable excuse for everything. If a cop has been on patrol for more than a year or so, there is no type of human deceit and creative humbug he has not heard.
4. Which then brought to mind the Crashers, and their changing repertoire of excuses about how they were too invited, really, or thought they were invited, or at least thought that there was no reason to think they weren’t invited.
5. So who cares what they said to whichever screener or Secret Service agent waved them by? State functions at the White House have a guest list. There are names on the list. The names on the list are of the people who are invited. Names not on the list belong to people who were not invited.
6. Surely, the Secret Service handlers have heard it all, just like the local cops. They should not be moved by someone, however blonde, who says she left the invitation in her other sari or lost it in the waiting line or thought she was told by a press secretary’s best friend that he would get her on the list. She is not on the list.
7. The Crashers probably had no insidious intent beyond resume-building for reality TV, but so what? Weren’t they at the very least trespassing? At least haul them in for that.