reporter’s notebook

i knew they had a dress code there (no jeans allowed!), so i asked my boss, can i wear a dress? he said, sure, and i was ecstatic. but then i chickened out. i feared that i would stand out too much amidst the typically-mundane flock of media members. so i wore this: sailor trousers (of love) and a crisp, white top.

but apparently, it still drew too much attention, as the president gave me a good, long stare. i knew she was looking at me because i was significantly separated from the long slew of reporters and cameramen. she was finishing an oath-taking with the mopc board of governors, her right hand firmly raised, and she looked directly at me as she said her last few words (including “so help me God”, which seriously gave me the chills). i held her stare for while but later felt so self-conscious that i had to turn away. she is, after all, the president of a country. my country. eek. all in all, it was a very strange night. but then again, it was nothing compared to my other adventures as a [humble] tv reporter…