Back in the spring I took my first plunge into Extreme Packing for my trip to San Francisco with the silverorange boys. With this trip to the DNC, I’m cranking things up a notch:

Here’s what you see in the picture, roughly running clockwise from the top-left:

1. Apple iBook laptop: I’ll use this for blogging, photo processing, email, IM and what have you. It’s got a brand new battery (after the second battery failed: here’s the whole sordid tale)
2. Print out of various hotel and airline reservations.
3. One shirt (in fact it’s this shirt!), one pair of socks, one pair of Gap-brand boxers.
4. One package of Shoppers Drug Mart-brand tissues (I can never find a tissue in Boston when I need one).
5. Pair of Shure e2c earphones.
6. A four-foot Ethernet cable.
7. USB cable to connect my Canon PowerShot S100 to the iBook.
8. My U.S. Passport.
9. Battery charger for the Canon S100.
10. The Canon S100 itself, with neoprene case.
11. A cheap $19 USB key drive with copies of various stuff backed up in case my laptop implodes.
12. My “You’ve Got Credentials” letter from the DNC — required to pick up my credentials tomorrow morning.
13. Braun shaver, in a Ziploc bag.
14. Toothbrush and comb (hair brush takes up too much room).
15. A six-foot run of telephone cord with RJ-11s at each end, in case I need to use the modem or send a fax from somewhere.
16. Battery charger for the new Canon S1 IS camera (I took the picture with it, which is why it’s not in the picture).
17. Nokia 3285 cell phone, with charger.
18. My wallet.
19. The July 12 and 19 double issue of The New Yorker magazine.
20. My OS X Panther CDs, in case I need to give my laptop digital CPR at some point.

Not in the picture are the new camera, a trial-size tube of Toms of Maine toothepaste, a small tin of Altoids, and the charger for the iBook.

All of this fits nicely inside my Targus laptop bag. It’s not feather-light, but it’s manageable, which is important because I won’t actually be checking in to my hotel until late tomorrow night, so all of the above is on my back while I’m blogging around the Fleet Center tomorrow.

Here’s the Newsday story that I wrote about being interviewed for.

As an exercise in seeing how stories like this get edited down from the original interview (which in this case was conducted by email), here’s a comparison of what I said vs. what got printed.

Note that I’m not presented this as some sort of “hey, they misrepresented me!” complaint, simply as an demonstration of how interviews, of necessity, get distilled down into print. I’ve boldfaced the sections of my original responses that made it into print.

In response to the question “What is your general strategy for covering the convention? Where and how will you spend your time?” I wrote:

I’m interested in four things:

(a) How the convention is covered by the “mainstream” media. I’d like to get a sense of, and report about, the mechanisms “behind the curtain,” and how they relate to what I hear/read/watch at home.

(b) The convention as a giant piece of political theatre. As a Canadian, I am fascinated with the pomp and circumstance of U.S. politics (it makes what we do here in Canada appear very, very sedate by comparison). I got a taste of this when I blogged the New Hampshire primary in January; I’m interested in seeing more, and trying to get a handle of how the theatricality relates to the real world of politics, elections, and public policy.

(c) As a dual-national (I was born in New York state in 1966, but have been a Canadian resident most of my life), I’m entitled to vote in the election. But, as a Canadian, my only real exposure to the election, my only mechanism for learning about candidates and policy, is through the media. So I have a very real, if selfish interest in the convention as a sort of extended, full-on civics course.

(d) As a weblogger, I’m interesting in learning more about how webloggers can provide an alternative, supplementary view of events like the convention. I truly don’t know whether it will be useful (lots of diverse views from lots of diverse perspectives) or whether it all boils down to rather mundane amateur journalism without the editorial oversight and ethical guidelines of “real” reporting. And the best way of finding that out is to jump right in a do it.

Put that all together, and perhaps you don’t get a “general strategy,” but you get some idea of what I’ll be there to do.

The responses to that question weren’t included in the article, although some of my response was incorporated into the answer to the next question.

In response to the question “Is there a particular gap that you are trying to fill with your coverage?” I responded:

No. “I’m there mostly as a producer, not as a consumer. In other words, I’m filling in my own gaps (as above); whether or not this of use or interest to others, while not insignificant, isn’t front and center, and it’s not how I’m making plans.

And the article printed:

I’m filling in my own gaps. I am interested in how the convention is covered by the media; the convention as a giant piece of political theater; and I have a very real, if selfish, interest in the convention as a sort of extended, full-on civics course. Whether this is of use or interest to others, while not insignificant, isn’t front and center, and it’s not how I’m making plans.

They combined my answer to their first question with my answer to the second, but they didn’t print what I thought was the most important point: I’m there mostly as a producer, not as a consumer.

For the question “What will you do at the convention that a mainstream journalist would not do?” I responded:

1. I won’t get paid.

2. I won’t have deadlines.

3. I won’t have anyone to tell me what/where/when to cover.

4. I won’t be responsible to anyone but myself.

As such, I’ll be able to write as much or as little as I like, about whatever I like, whenever I like.

And the article printed that verbatim.

Finally, I responded to the question “Are there any ethical rules that you plan to follow?” simply “Only to tell the truth.” They printed this verbatim as well.

There were several other questions that weren’t printed in the article.

For the question “Please list five questions you would like to have answered in your coverage of the convention, in order of importance.” I [honestly] responded:

I have absolutely no idea.

To the question “Who is your readership?” I responded:

I have just a little more than absolutely no idea.

Many readers are people who live within a mile or two of my house, here in rural Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. If I have a “responsibility” to any chunk of my readership, it’s probably to them — a motely collection of friends, family, acquaintances and strangers. So on one level I’m simply a sort of “personal reporter” for my local community.

I’m also a de facto participant in what’s loosely known as the “blogosphere” — what I write will get syndicated and linked and otherwise worked into the web. So I feel, to some extent, like I’m working together with a decentralized group of other bloggers (none of whom I actually know) on a sort of “group project” to cover the convention.

For the question “Will your blog be reviewed by anyone before it goes out? If so, how will that process work?” I answered:

No review at all. I generally post live immediately after writing, then re-read and make spelling, grammar and factual edits as required. Thus I’m sort of editing “live” in front of the audience, if you will.

And finally, to the question “How long will your dispatches be? How will you decide that?” I responded:

No idea at that point; the digital page has no boundaries, so I don’t really need to figure that out.

“Shirley is in bed and Jem and Walter and the twins are down in their beloved Rainbow Valley,” said Anne. “They just came home this afternoon, you know, and they could hardly wait until supper was over before rushing down to the valley. They love it above every spot on earth. Even the maple grove doesn’t rival it in their affections.” — from Rainbow Valley, L.M. Montgomery

Those who grew up on Prince Edward Island (i.e. not me) in the last couple of decades have the distinct benefit, upon becoming parents, of thorough familiarity with Rainbow Valley, the amusement park in Cavendish.

Rainbow Valley is the closest thing Prince Edward Island has to a bona fide theme park (the theme, in this case, being something like “Anne of Green Gables and lots of animals, with waterslides”). And, at least from the “And because of the rain, the Birchwood Intermediate trip to Rainbow Valley is cancelled” announcements on the CBC every spring, it seems like every school child on the Island goes to Rainbow Valley every spring on a school trip.

Having no personal experience of these trips — we were stuck with the docents at the Art Gallery of Hamilton every spring for our school trips — I can only hope that they are intended to be 100% pure fun, and are not tainted with any sort of academic purpose (“Compare and contrast your feelings on the waterslide to your feelings on the roller coaster”).

And having no personal experience of these trips means that, until today, I was a Rainbow Valley virgin.

At the suggestion of our friend Ann, who knows enough to know these things, Oliver and I spent the afternoon there today while Catherine was slaving away here at the office painting Johnny’s office with blue suede shoes-coloured paint.

For other parents-from-away who find themselves with a planned trip to Rainbow Valley, I present the following pointers, with hopes that your visit will be all that much better.

• First, fear not: Rainbow Valley is actually lots of fun. Even (or perhaps especially) for a 3-1/2 year old like Oliver. It truly is geared for “family fun” and that includes little kids.
• Kids under five get in for free. Adult admission is $14. This is very good value.
• Bring your bathing suit: there are many, many very fun looking water-related activities, including water slides, squirty zones and pools. We had no idea, came without bathing suits, and lost out. Next time! There appear to be plenty of change rooms.
• If you forget towels or swimmy diapers, you can buy both in the space-ship shaped gift shop. It’s also very cool up there if you need a quick time out of the heat.
• If you let your child go up the “House That Jack Built” you may never see them again. Or at least you will be very nervous, because they will disappear for a while, only to return several minutes later at the head of the exciting-looking slide. It is possible (but awkward) to climb back down the stairs, but if your child is prone to “holy shit, that’s a very high slide” freakouts, this attraction is best avoided. Fortunately Oliver, although slide averse, had no problems here.
• You have to oversteer in the swan boats. And it is hard to manage one small child in the swan boats, especially if they want to climb in the back where, because you have to steer, you will not be able to prevent them from jumping out into the pond.
• The man who runs the “for kids under 48 inches tall” airplane ride is perhaps the nicest carnival attraction operator I have ever met. Say hello to him.
• Be sure to read the ride restrictions twice: you may think it says “no kids under 48 inches tall” when it might say “no kids under 48 inches tall can ride alone.” Or it might say “no kids over 48 inches tall.” It’s like on-street parking in Montreal.
• You may think the “fire safety” exhibit is lame. It is not: kids like climbing inside a fire truck. So do adults. At least we did.
• The train goes through the woods. It too is more fun than you think it will be. Although it does not run on tracks, which is confusing.
• The pizza is good. Not great, but good.
• They appear to welcome families who bring in their own food. Indeed there are picnic tables all over the place, and barbeques available for free borrowing.
• The magic show is weird. It reminded me of the movie Blue Velvet.
• Be sure to wander around a lot: one of the neatest aspects of the park is that it is chocked full of neat things in odd corners.
• Riding in the whale monorail requires that you press down on the accelerator with your foot. If you don’t do this, your whale will not move, and you will be snickered at by the lanky overseer.
• There is no parking lot, per se: all parking is on the grass. So just because you see cars on the grass, you need not think “wow, it’s so busy they ran out of parking spaces.”
• Even when the grass cum parking lot is full, as it was today, the park is big enough that it doesn’t feel overly busy or crowded.

Oliver and I arrived at the park about 11:00 a.m. and left around 2:00 p.m. We could have stayed longer — Oliver certainly had energy left in him — but there was rain on the horizon and we decided to get out while the getting was good. I imagine that a properly equipped family could spend the entire day there and not experience any boredom at all.

Oh to be a kid on Prince Edward Island, where the spring field trip meant the fun of cotton candy, water slides and roller coaster rather than the funereal drone of retired art lovers attempting to turn us on to the wonders of the Renaissance painters. Oliver don’t know how good he got it.

I’ve set up a special Reinvented @ DNC page that will just contain posts about or from the DNC next week. These posts will also appear on the main weblog, so unless you just want Convention-related items, you can continue on as normal.

There’s a special RSS feed for the DNC too.

If you walk the streets of Charlottetown every day like we do, you can’t help but notice the continuing parking meter carnage downtown. On Prince St. alone, on the stretch in front of our house, there are more destroyed parking meters than working ones. And by “destroyed” I mean “the entire top part has been lopped off.”

Concomitant with this destruction, the City appears to be amidst an analog to digital upgrade program, as witnessed by the following photos taken on Queen Street this afternoon.

Here’s a shot of the old analog meters:

And here’s a shot of the whizzy new digital ones:

I’m flying from Moncton to Boston on Monday morning. I leave Moncton at 6:55 a.m., fly through Montreal and arrive in Boston at 10:41 a.m. I then have until 1:00 p.m. to get to the Westin Copley Place Hotel to pick up my press credentials.

If something — air delay, subway delay, customs delay — throws a wrench into my travels, there’s a chance I might miss the credential pickup. This might mean that Monday’s “coverage” of the DNC will consist of a crazy travelogue rather than biting political commentary. You have been warned.

By the way, I’m flying from Moncton, despite the hassle, because I can save about $500 doing so, mostly because of the $146 Moncton-Boston fare. Sometimes it is worth the drive to Moncton.

The mysterious overlords at Dun and Bradstreet called today to “update our information.” Their spelling of our company name was “Reinventive.” I kind of like that name. Perhaps we should start a subsidiary?