Today Seymour Hersh, one of the most famous investigative reporters of all time, came to one of the seminars at the program I'm in to speak. He sits down and starts lecturing. Cameras are on and he isnt shy about his disdain for them. After not too long he makes them leave. So the camera people pack up and go home. He then starts talking about this huge new story about the war in Iraq which will be published in the New Yorker next week. It is top secret, hence why the cameras had to leave.
Not too much later, one of my colleges asks a question about how he keeps his notes. He leans back to reach for his notebook that has his Iraq notes in it. Not there. He gets up "Where the hell is my notebook!?" Looks in the hallway. Of the 25 people in my program one other kid and I got up to look for it. I noticed the broadcast people packing up in the hallway earlier so I run into the street. This while Seymour Hersh is screaming "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BAG!?" It has his notes, keys and cell in it. I see in the distance, down the road a camera person and another journalist. I run as fast as I can. I'm screaming "STOP" and they dont hear me. After a few blocks I caught up with them, running the whole way in a pencil skirt. The journalist, James Ridgeway, is holding the brown leather bag. I snatch it out of his hands and he yells after me "is that yours?" but I'm already running back to Hersh.
I get to Hersh, completely out of breath... he is still screaming... and I hand him his bag. He shouts at me "Why the hell did you steal my bag?" and walks back inside, sits down and continues the lecture like nothing happened.
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