Chattanooga Pulse

Written by Chuck Crowder
Wednesday, 28 January 2009 18:44

By now, President Obama and family should pretty much be acclimated to their new home in Washington, D.C. Watching all of the televised inaugural events and “first week” happenings has made me wonder what it was like to be “movin’ on up” to the most famous house in the world.

First of all, there’s the actual street address. I can see Michelle Obama now filling out all of the standard-issue post office change-of-address forms so their credit-card bills and magazines (Elle, Vanity Fair, Maxim) will be safely rerouted to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And I guess they better hope their mailman is a Democrat, or the electric bill might “accidentally” slip between the cracks of the mailbag.

Then there’s the stuff about a new place you want to change right away to make the home truly yours. When I move into a new address, I immediately replace the toilet seats. Not that I have any phobias about butt germs, it just makes me rest a little easier during those special visits. And what about the presidential bed? Do you get to change it out for your favorite waterbed or are you stuck with W’s leftover Sealy? I’d hope that at least the sheets are changed between presidents-especially after the Clinton years.

Next, there’s his office. As commander-in-chief, Obama not only has the power to move a few knick-knacks around, he could make the Oval round if he really wanted. Wouldn’t that shake things up in the neighborhood? And put a disco ball in the middle? That’d be fly. But regardless of his day-to-day comfort zones, Obama has GOT to be lovin’ the House’s amenities.

The White House has a swimming pool, movie theater, bowling alley, tennis court, garden after garden of state flowers, the Truman balcony-and five full-time chefs. On my first day, I’d have each chef whip up something totally different and then make them guess where I was: East Wing? West Wing? Air Force One?

That’s because the White House is much bigger than it looks, with six stories (two underground) and more than 55,000 square feet of floor space. My daughter and I were two of 5,000 visitors the White House saw one lucky day and I don’t remember noticing any mall-style directory kiosks with “You Are Here” indicators. I wonder how long it takes to really know your way around the place.

Luckily, many of the rooms for socializing are named for the paint color of the walls. There’s the Green Room, Blue Room, Red Room and Yellow Room. Other rooms for greeting guests are named for what might be in them: the Map Room, Treaty Room, library, state dining room, etc. This naming convention was surely simplified to keep the Big Man from looking like a buffoon when the staff makes out his daily schedule. I can’t imagine the president ever having to whisper to a key advisor, “Why didn’t you say the Blue Room? I’ve been waiting around in the Green Room like an idiot thinking you and Vladimir would arrive any minute.”

As a twosome, my daughter and I were paired up with a senator’s aide assigned to some dignitaries who were privy to a personal guided tour (most visitors have to use the cassette tapes). One of the many interesting sidebar facts he revealed was that the president has a special concierge at his disposal 24 hours a day. Their job is to run those little errands the First Family might have at any given moment. When the president is hungry for KFC at 3 a.m., he flies. Need last minute Redskins tickets? He gets them. Tux at the cleaners? No problem. He does it all.

And that’s the coolest part about being a White House resident. They take care of you, and I for one am thankful. Because the last thing I want my president worrying about is how he’s gonna get to Staples, Home Depot AND the skating rink ALL before his conference call with the joint chiefs of staff. Leave that stuff for Biden to handle…