For some reporters, it’s just like watching TV

Friday, Nov. 16, 2007 | 7:22 a.m.

To spend a day with the media covering the debate is to watch candidates go up in flames - at least on screen-savers - and a 12-year-old kid reporter learning about free lunches and economic policy. But first, reporters had to get past the UNLV parking guy in the orange vest.

He wanted to vent.

"You don't know what's going on. They don't tell. It's all secret. They got CIA agents, CIA everywhere. Could be anyone. You don't know who you can trust."

He paused.

"You said you're press? Let me see your badge."

To find lunch, reporters followed hand-lettered signs across campus to the alumni center.

It was like that Far Side cartoon, the one where the dog was luring the cat into the washing machine with a trail of signs that said "CAT FUD."

At the end of the sign trail was a luncheon - and a PowerPoint slide show about the minute details of the caucus, including a demonstration of its computerized phone system.

"Any questions?" asked a smiling Jean Hessburg, consultant to the Nevada Democratic Party and former director of the Iowa Democratic Caucus.

Some guy from a Web site in Florida asked a couple of questions, actually one big question, about whether some Republican kids could hack into the phone system, and what's the big idea keeping the caucus sites open so shift workers can vote? Don't they all work for the casinos? And won't that give big gaming companies control of the caucus? And how is that American?

Hessburg's eyes narrowed. She said they, as Americans, were entitled to vote.

As she spoke, the screen-saver on her laptop kicked in, dissolving the images of smiling presidential candidates into flames.

Back in the reporters' file room, roving cameramen caught up.

"Where'd I see you, New Hampshire?"

"Yeah, yeah. How'd you make out in New Hampshire with that guy you were with?"

"Good. Did OK, did OK."

"They gonna send you back?"

"Maybe. Maybe, when it gets colder."

A towheaded boy of no more than 12 wandered through the room interviewing reporters for Scholastic Kids Network, using a microphone-equipped iPod and asking people to spell their names slowly.

Later, the kid turns to the two women walking around with him as minders.

"I'm starving," he says. "You haven't fed me all day."

"I fed you lunch," one woman says.

Then she hands him a ham sandwich from the free food pile.

"You can have a soda, too, buddy. You can have caffeine. You'll need one to stay awake."

CNN gave press passes to 300 people. Maybe half of them are working in the file room, below Cox Pavilion, watching TV like the folks at home.

As the debate starts, they all shut up and go to work on their laptops, filling the file room with the sound of a million tap-dancing spiders.

Except when Chris Dodd talks about the Peruvian free-trade agreement. Then it's very quiet.

And every now and then, there's laughter, such as when candidates start making bad jokes about each other, or when Dennis Kucinich speaks for the first time.

After the debate, up in the Spin Room (it's really called that, not the "Total Honest Assessment Room" or something more spin-filled), the spinners await.

There's David Axelrod for Obama, Joe Trippi for John Edwards, Mark Penn for Hillary Clinton, and South Carolina state Sen. Gerald Malloy for Joe Biden. University volunteers stood behind them with signs so people would know who these famous, high-powered political operatives were.

Bill Richardson and Kucinich spun for themselves, without identifying signs.

The room filled with the sound of spin.

"I don't know if that figure is right ... "

"I'm not sure that's the real issue ... "

"What was interesting was how ... "

Occasionally, reporters who couldn't get someone to spin them spun each other.

"Oh, it's a seismic shift. She's fully engaged."

Meanwhile, the towheaded boy snagged exclusive interviews with Biden (who'd come to bolster his spin section) and Kucinich.

Kucinich explained his economic policy in great detail.