I hadn't intended to go onto the floor of Madison Square Garden last night for President Bush's speech. I was content to have the column on Matt Albrecht be the last one from New York. But when I talked to my wife, she said the people at work were enjoying the ...the...whatever this is and I suddenly felt related to Wayne Newton, who probably always wants to just go upstairs and go to bed, but instead had to sing one more verse of Danke Schoen (and no, I don't know how to spell Danke Schoen because I spent too much time in German class putting golf tees on that rat, Donnie Freeburg's seat).

Usually, the floor is closed when the president -- or challenger in the case of the Democrats -- speaks. Nobody gets on. Nobody gets off. But last night, it was open, but in order to get on the floor, you have to have a floor pass. We trade our regular credentials for the rotating floor pass, and the folks in charge give us 30 minutes to get what we need.

It's 10:50. I have to be back at 11:20. I need to get to the Minnesota delegation, take some pictures, and stick a microphone in front of somebody's face and ask the usual "what'd you think?" question (an answer, by the way, I usually throw away. It's just to warm the delegate up for the fastball, "where'd you get the stupid hat?").

Once I got on the floor, I knew I was in trouble. The place is always packed and the Secret Service is always nervous. To make matters worse, the configuration of the floor was changed for Thursday's night's speech and Minnesota wasn't where it was on Wednesday.

Being pretty skinny, I'm pretty good at slithering through the crowd, but I only got as far as the aisle in front of the vice presidential box and the Secret Service closed the aisle. I was stuck. I was stuck in the Guam delegation. And the clock was ticking.

So I listened to Bush's speech and wondered whether the delegates have any lingering problems when they get home. What I noticed this week is that whenever any speaker says something, they chant the last lines back. So if a person says, for example, "I stand for shaving in the morning." They all chant back...

"Shaving in the morning....
Shaving in the morning...
Shaving in the morning...."

Until they realize that it's such a stupid thing to chant that there's no chance it's going to catch on. This is very much like the two people who stand up next to you at the Metrodome to try to start a wave.

My guess is that when some of these delegates get back home on Friday, get their car at the airport and get to the cashier, the person will say "That'll be $27.50, please," they'll probably chant back at him...

"$27.50 PLEASE....
$27.50 PLEASE....
$27.50 PLEASE...."

I didn't get a chance to actually listen to Bush's speech because I was spending too much time wondering when he'd finish. I'm sure it was a good speech, but the clock was ticking.

It's 11:07. 13 minutes for Bush to finish, me to get through all these people to the Minnesota delegation, find out where the guy got the stupid hat, and get back through the people, while the balloons are falling.

At 11:10, I see Vice President Cheney leading a conga line from his box, obviously heading backstage for big group unity display. The Secret Service lets me go and I'm on the move. Minnesota? Where's Minnesota? I see a sign. M...I...

Gotta be Minnesota. But it's Michigan.

11:12. The speech ends. The balloons fall. I surf.

I get near center stage and someone grabs me. "Where you going?"

"Minnesota."

"You can't go there," he says. Not until the Bushes, Cheneys, the White House florist, and the doorman finish the display of unity.

11:15. The display ends. The band begins and I see Minnesota. Still at least a minute away. I get held up by a reporter standing in the middle of the aisle, his cameraman 5 feet away telling everyone to wait. I tell him I'm giving him 30 seconds to get his shot and then I'm walking through it.

Thirty seconds later, I walk through his shot. He gives me an oral update on physiology. I'm moving.

And then I hear the words...."and now for the benediction."

Shoot. I can't move during the benediction (and, for the record, that guy can't conduct physiology lectures during it either). I wait. Everyone prays. The person conducting the benediction prays for you, me, the president, and apparently everyone else in the convention hall by name.

11:19. I'm at the Minnesota delegation.

"What'd you think?"

He liked it.

I eventually made it back to the rotating floor pass table to turn my credential back in, but by now they didn't care whether I was late or not, and gave me the credential to keep as a souvenier.

I headed out of the garden and decided to walk back to the hotel. The delegates, giddy at Bush's speech (and privately, many said they think their guy just won re-election), were hugging the line of cops and shaking their hands one by one...for several blocks. The cops were thrilled to get the attention.

A block from the Garden, still in the security zone, the protestors appeared across the street, chanting. Several delegates, who also chose to walk, waved and taunted. They waved back. Well, sort of.

But a block later, the security zone ended, and the delegates now were in with the protestors, not abundant in number, but energetic nonetheless.

While waiting for a light to change to allow us to cross, one man stood looking at the other side of the street, but held a small sign up for the delegates behind him to see.

"OK, your cult leader has spoken, now go home!."

A block later, several protestors held signs and chanted. And shouted, "Shame. Shame. Shame."

This had a real chance to get ugly, especially since a delegate shouted "Get a job," back at him.

But as the numbers on each side dispersed through Times Square, the confrontations stopped, and the delegates prepared to go home, to meet again in four years.

But I'll bet it won't be in New York.