It was Alexander Washington Hamilton's turn first. He had three minutes for his opening remarks, and as he was introduced, he adjusted his lapels and microphone, fixing his eyes on some indeterminate space near his stomach. When the red light on his podium glared, he raised his head and slowly looked into the audience -- handpicked, much like a jury by the respective staffs of the candidates -- and he cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, then seemed to change courses, deciding at the last moment to address what was going on just outside the hotel.
The rest of this story is no longer online, but does appear in the book "The Unforbidden Is Compulsory, or Optimism."