Mystery Guest at the Westin Copley Place

On Friday afternoon, Husband had a meeting in Boston. Since I most unhappily remain unemployed, I hopped with him into Fred the Red, our semi-trusty PT Cruiser, and motored up. We already planned to go to Massachusetts on Saturday morning to spend the weekend with Alex Elliot's family (her son's 6th birthday party is on Sunday), so it was just easier to go up with him and make an extra night of it.

When we returned to the hotel after dinner,* the street was blocked off, cops wandered around in neon safety vests, and crowds gathered along the curb. Husband and I speculated that this had something to do with Sen. Kennedy's funeral. A cop verified our suspicions, and we went into the hotel.

In the lobby, some SWAT-type team finished checking in and the strapping men hoisted their large black bags onto their backs. I asked the concierge what was going on.

"Well, there's a senator, Ted Kennedy..."

"Yes, he died," I interrupted. "I know that the funeral is this weekend. But what's going on here?"

"Oh, there's a dignitary staying here, but we don't know who it is."
A couple in their early 60s the gift shop were convinced it was Barack Obama. Husband tried to explain that if Obama was here, there would be Secret Service everywhere and metal detectors. I pointed out that there were not snipers on surrounding buildings. The cashier ignored our logic. "It's Obama! I know it!"

A letter slipped under the door of our hotel room noted that, "We have a dignitary staying in the hotel for the next two nights, and as such have extensive security measures in place in the hotel as well as the area surrounding the building outside... but the front entrance to the hotel will still be open for drive in traffic."

Who could it be?**

*Which, incidentally, leads me to an important question: I ordered a lobster salad on brioche, and when it arrived, it was on bread. I thought brioche had to be a roll or bun (and I'm 90% sure that the menu said "brioche roll"), so I asked the waiter if they ran out of brioche. "No, this is brioche bread," he replied. It was certainly thick and buttery, but I spent the rest of the evening convinced that it was toasted buttered white bread and that the staff was laughing at me. I looked up brioche, and it said it can be baked in a loaf. But I wonder if it would look different than any other kind of toasted bread?

**"It might be a prince from Seychelles," Husband decided. He cracks me up.