There’s been another major security blunder – they let yours truly into the state legislative chamber.

And I wasn’t even wearing an ID tag.

Those in charge must have had enough information from my personal file to know I always get lost in Raleigh. They figured I’d never even see the Raleigh skyline much less find the Legislative Building.

What they didn’t count on was Nicole McGuinness, Rep. Pat Hurley’s legislative assistant (known in state government shorthand as an LA). Once I knew for certain I was headed out of Raleigh and bearing down on Lizard Lick, I called Pat’s cellphone number which is directed to her office. Nicole took my call and talked me back from the brink to another wilderness known affectionately as state government.

*Note to whoever is responsible for directions on the Legislature Web site: There is no Saunders Street exit on I-440.

I was in the capital – thanks to Nicole’s directions – last week to cover Hurley’s resolution recognizing the Randolph County Honor Guard. These guys perform military funerals for veterans within a 50-mile radius. And they do it free of charge because they believe it’s the right thing to do.

If you know a member of the Randolph County Honor Guard, let him (or her – Loretta Linebarrier is the lone female) know that you appreciate their efforts.

Better yet – if you’re a veteran in good standing and can volunteer nine hours a month, consider joining them.

But back to the capital. Running around the government plaza with Pat Hurley is a lot like reunion week. She knows everybody and everybody knows her.

“Rep. Smith this is Larry Penkava with The Randolph Guide,” she says to a colleague. “He’s following me around today.”

I shake hands and explain that if Pat were opposed in the November general election I wouldn’t be doing this as it would smack of favoritism. I’ll still catch it from my Democrat friends.

Pat, er, Rep. Hurley took me to lunch in the cafeteria set aside for members of the General Assembly. All the hired hands are relegated to a dining area outside the inner sanctum.  

We sat at a table with Harold Brubaker, Pat’s Republican colleague who represents the western half of the county. Bru was wearing a bright purple tie, which I didn’t notice until Marc Basnight, president pro tempore of the Senate and a Democrat, walked up.

Pointing to the luminous cravat, Basnight asked in his halting, hoi-toide, Dare County brogue, “Hoi there, Mr. Brubaker. Have you changed your political persuasion?”

“Ohhh no,” the conservative Bru replied as legislators from all sides of the political spectrum howled.

Meanwhile, I’m wondering if this is representative of the level of wit displayed amongst state legislators. If so, Gov. Worth must be rolling over in his grave.

Later in the day after the Honor Guard resolution was unanimously passed, I left the upstairs gallery to meet Pat down in the House chamber. I followed a group into an elevator before noticing something wasn’t quite right.

“Am I in the wrong elevator?” I asked a lady behind me.

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?” she replied.

“Well, I’m not a woman.”

Indeed, I was the only man aboard with six or eight woman. And that’s not counting Cherie Berry’s picture on the wall. I thought I may have crashed a meeting of the women legislators’ caucus.

“No, you aren’t on the wrong elevator, honey,” another passenger said. “It’s just your lucky day.”

I couldn’t help but agree – well, sort of.



Larry Penkava, who has written Now and Then since 1994, is still looking for his lost parking stub.