"I just got a text that the Vice President is on 6," says a colleague.
I take the escalator up one flight.
At the elevator banks on the 6th floor stand five or six NYC policemen with helmets on, holding guns. Not little handguns. I'm talking those big assault rifles that look like they could take out a small army.
I go to the back of the store to an exclusive private section for male shoppers. Standing around are several secret service guys; these men appear unarmed. And there, right in front of me, is Jill Biden. Her husband has just finished shopping and is graciously taking multiple photos with the store employees who have helped him. Of all times not to have my camera or phone with me!
As Joe is walking out, he passes me. I say, "Hi, my name is Lyn," while I extend my hand. I don't think I address him as I'm unsure of the protocol Is it Mr. Vice President? Mr. Biden? A combination of the two?
"I loved your speech the other night," I begin (I know, not very creative). He smiles and thanks me with a sincerity that feels real. And the whole time we are speaking he is shaking my hand. A long, good, solid shake. Then he surprises me, and kisses me on my right cheek.
Thank-you, Joe. We will miss you.
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