For this week's DNC, my city is infiltrated with throngs of patriotic die-hards, angry protesters, street performers, law enforcement and LOTS of t-shirt vendors. Beyond the expected red-white-blue banners, balloons and streamers, DNC attendees are expressing their political beliefs in their own way. I tried to stand firm and remain a blank canvas but have caved.

I am now the proud owner of two Obama t-shirts and one button: "Ask me how many houses I own."

Now at Day 4, I've seen a lot of creativity out here. My favorite so far, a street chorus performance of the 'children's book (for adults)' "Goodnight Bush." I asked the group how long they'd been performing together: "We go way back. All the way to last Saturday." A couple of the singers wore footie pajamas while the conductor wore a flight suit similar to the one GW wore on that aircraft carrier during the "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED" PR debacle.

But beyond the visual, I've had some wonderful conversations this week. Everyone is so amped up, opened up and ready to talk - it's wonderful. Sitting below the MSNBC broadcast booth across from Union Station, I met an African-American man who has worked so hard to make something of himself (he's an engineer) to give his son everything. Now, he worries that his son will not understand the struggles of his people, not appreciate how far they've come and take it all for granted. I ask how old his son is. "Seven," he says. stating upfront that I am not a parent, I tried to assure him that he's doing a great job. "Just that fact that you are concerned and thinking about it - that tells me you're doing a great job. Besides, the kid is seven! He's probably more into cartoons and toys than the struggles of Black history right now. Just keep telling him and one day, he'll get it." I don't know if any of my advice made real sense but he seemed comforted. What a cool guy.

Then, there was the devout 'Hillarista' who was loudly protesting the day after Hillary's speech - and who refused to throw in the towel. She (I'm thinking he was in transition to She-dom) made some sense but then lost me at, "I mean how do we even know that Obama was born in this country? We've never seen a birth certificate." At that point, I threw up my hands and walked away instead of curling them into fists and inserting them into her schnozzola.

Anyway, there were other adventures to be had ...yesterday especially.

On my morning stroll to The Big Tent, I stopped at a crosswalk and recognized the tiny woman next to me as Susan Sarandon. Of course, why shouldn't she be here? (No sign of her hunky partner, Tim Robbins.) So, what is my opening line to this famous movie actress and steadfast political voice?

"Hey, Susan!" OMFG. What a moron - like we're BFF or something. "Are you enjoying Denver?"

"Well, I'm trying to - this is actually my first day outside today. It's really a lovely town."

That's as far as we got before someone - a bigger moron than me, it turns out - yelled to her, "I loved you in China Beach!" At this point, I realize, once again, how annoying it must be to just try and take a simple walk and be left alone. She seemed shy and kinda reluctant to talk but I mean, what did she expect? Why doesn't anyone think about this when they become actors? Later, I got some great shots of her and pal, Dana Delaney, buying Obama Action Figure Dolls so I'm content with that. Anyway, it felt weird taking their photos and that's when I realized - I just don't have the stomach of a true paparazzo.

Later that same day, I'm in the Pepsi Center frantically running for an elevator so I can get in the hall for Bill Clinton's speech. I hear footsteps behind me and realize I might accidentally be a leader, therefore, I must deliver. I barely stick my arm into the jaws of the closing doors and it magically opens, pissing off everyone inside I'm sure. Once inside, I turn around to see it was just one little redhead gal who was behind me.

"Thank you! God, thank you!" she said to me.

"Sure," I said.

Somebody behind me says, "Um ... Maureen Dowd? What are you doing in this plebian elevator?"

The little redhead in front of me turns around and says, "Oh, I take plebian elevators all the time, no problem."

I join in the good-natured ribbing of the New York Times' most entertaining columnist:

"So, what's with you being so smart and glamorous all the time? It's kind of annoying. Makes it hard for the rest of us."

She looks me in the eye with real humor and insists: "Not true! I get sweaty! I get disheveled! Look at me now! I'm late!" Then, the doors open and she takes off. "Bye!"

Hmph. Smartypants. Still, I'd KILL to have a beer with that women. I'd even pick up the tab. AND, she just proved that she give as good as she gets - nice.

(Also, what IS IT with my favorite women being tiny? I had only a sneaking suspicion of this (Sinead O'Connor, Dolly Parton, Terry Gross) but after my double brushes with greatness yesterday, there is striking evidence. Hillary is normal-sized, right?)

A friend of mine has accused me of having a horseshoe stuck up my butt and I do have some weird luck. I managed to nab a pass to the convention hall for last night's all-star line-up of speakers, including Bill Clinton, John Kerry, Joe Biden and - SURPRISE! - The Obaminator.

I managed to squeeze my not-so-tiny body into the convention hall without a seat. (Backed up against a concrete wall, I assured one huffy person squeezing by, "Look pal, my boobs can't get any smaller so just pipe down.") I obtained brief success with a high perch and unobstructed view behind bullet-proof glass. I sat there on the floor cross-legged during the length of Senator John Kerry's speech - which was pretty impressive, I thought. (I loved his comparisons of his friend, John McCain v. the candidate McCain.) Eventually, the fire marshall put down his boot and kicked out me and 50 or so of my like-minded friends since we were definitely blocking the stairways.

Plan B: Instead of elbowing my way in to the hall as I was wont to do, I aimed for the edging-slowly-with-small-steps approach to establishing my own space. When doing this, always pick an ally. I found my partner in a tall African-American girl who shared my goals, my humor and my persistence. We finally scored a great view with only occasional harassment from the Secret Service. What a great night! Beau Biden introduced his father, Joe, and everone was weepy. Things got even squishier when Joe talked about his mother, who was in the audience in all her white-haired-with-pearls glory.

Of course, the place EXPLODED when Obama made his surprise appearance. Wow. It was pretty damn amazing to feel that intense energy. I can only imagine what it's going to be like tonight at Invesco.

Which reminds me, I have to go stand in line and get my government-approved frisking. More adventures ahead, I'm sure.

But first, one of my favorite quotes from the week: Last night, as thousands streamed out of the Pepsi Center following Biden's speech and Obama's surprise appearance, we were met with tons of vendors and hell-n-tarnation Bible thumpers, extolling the virtues of a pure Christian life and shaming us for our obviously black souls. One guy holding a board of buttons implored the crowd: "COME ON! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO HELL ANYWAY! YOU MIGHT AS WELL GET A BUTTON!"

Off to Invesco for the Big Speech... I'm late!

Heather Clisby at ClizBiz more photos from the DNC