"We might have a problem with the Reps", Brian continues, meaning the Republicans. "There’s a Budget hearing in a few minutes. If anyone at all objects, funding for WTA is gonna come out. Can you testify?"

Information overload. Adrenalin flood. Room spins. But Marina says that, yes, she’s a member of the Authority and will testify if necessary. Brian smiles reassuringly and asks us to wait outside.

About ten minutes later Brian bolts out of his office. "We’re on", he says, jogging past. We gallop after him, flying down flights of back staircases, through staff-only doors and suddenly we’re in a hearing room. The Assembly members are already seated at the dais. There are just a few lobbyists and they immediately form a clutch around Brian. They talk intently with serious looks on their faces.

The meeting is called to order. We learn that the meeting is being held for the sole purpose of evaluating our bill, the "carcass", Senate Bill 1662. That makes me very uneasy. Assemblyperson Torlakson, Chairman of the Transportation Committee, approaches the podium and begins, "This bill contains important corrections for transportation pro-".

"Move to consider". Someone on the panel has cut Torlakson off. Before Torlakson even finishes folding his papers the motion has been seconded and unanimously passed.

Brian is beaming. "Now it goes to the Assembly floor, and assuming no amendments there we’re home free because it’s set in the Senate".

"Can we go home now?" I ask Marina. Brian thinks we can but Marina is determined to stay until the bill passes at least through the Assembly.

Marina says we will go to the "Gate". The Gate is where lobbyists wait like expectant parents as the special interest bills they have been hired to promote wend their way through the legislative process.

We take an elevator down to the Gate. The doors open to reveal pandemonium. A mosh pit of hundreds of lobbyists fills the hallways in every direction.

Lobbyists are not what I expected. First off, they hardly look prosperous (although I’m sure in fact they are). Up close they look and dress more like airline ticket counter agents. The even have the same "I’m resigned to the beating I know you’re going to give me and I just don’t care any more" expression that airline ticket people have. Many have the florid, flushed face of a tippler, an occupational hazard I’m sure. One in particular had both a drinker’s face and an artificial tan, a most upsetting combination. I thought lobbyists would repulse me; instead I felt sorry for them.

Legislative staff people are very friendly and eager to help. I’m certain such solicitous behavior is mandated, much like how Safeway orders its clerks to make eye contact and thank you by name. The effect is gratifying on one level, discomfiting on another. A little voice in me wanted to say (just like I want to when at Safeway), "Go ahead and call me an asshole. I know you want to". Legislative staff people are hard working, over-stressed, under-appreciated and deeply dedicated people with impossible jobs. I felt sorry for them, too.

All eyes are glued to TV screens hanging from the ceiling everywhere. A sound effect, a kind of jingle, indicates a vote is in the process of being taken and I thought to myself I am backstage at the taping of the world’s richest game show.

When one speaks of the "Gate" they refer to a hallway area adjacent to two back doors, one to the Assembly chamber and the other to the Senate chamber. Fittingly, this is where the figure of speech "back door deal" comes from.

The gates themselves are unimpressive. They look like you’d pick up a UPS package there. A velvet rope keeps people away, and behind it stands a security man, earphone, coiled wire disappearing in the suit, our culture’s fetish for signaling the proximity of power. The security person is more like a doorman at Studio 54. His most important chore is to take lobbyists’ business cards (notes scribbled on back) to members in the chamber. Occasionally, a member deigns to stroll out of the chamber in response to one of these missives. This sends a frisson of excitement through the lobbyist pack. They surge forward until, with an imperious flick of the hand, the member waves away most and beckons forward a chosen few.

Marina and I settle in for the long wait. It feels like being trapped overnight in an airline terminal. There are no windows; just corridors jammed with sweating, highly anxious lobbyists.

The noise makes reading impossible. I try listening to a book on tape; too noisy even for that. With no options left, I watch the game show.

A man that looks very much like Mr. Rogers, and even sounds like him, presides over the Assembly. He is the Speaker Pro Tempore; the actual Speaker is too important to perform the actual functions of Speaker. Every once in a while, Mr. Rogers steps down and someone else presides for a time. This is to allow Mr. Rogers to speak on behalf of his own bills.