Thus, when you have a chance to meet someone like Michelle Obama, and not just watch her give a speech but actually get to shake her hand, it’s simply too good to possibly turn down.

My opportunity came by almost random chance. When I first arrived at my command, an email was circulated asking if anyone’s spouse would volunteer to be the command ombudsman. The ombudsman is the Navy’s family support representative, who brings up the issues concerning service member’s families. Since my wife worked from home, and we would be around for a while, she volunteered, and was suddenly thrust into the role of representing the interests of Second Fleets families. Suddenly there was a cell phone, email group, and a newsletter for her. Before long, I was teasing her that she was seeing Admiral Williams more frequently than I!

Near the end of July, our command master chief was notified that Michelle Obama would be visiting Norfolk to greet the sailors of the Eisenhower Strike Group after they came back from deployment. One of her interests is the support given to military families, and she wanted to meet with the ombudsmen from the area before talking to the Strike Group’s sailors.

I volunteered to stay home and watch the baby, figuring I now had a command-sponsored day off I could use to get some projects done around the house. It’s not every day the Navy actually tells you to stay home, so I was ecstatic. But over the course of the next week, plans kept changing. I figured maybe it was the Secret Service keeping us on our toes. Those guys are pros, I thought, and they would keep even the military guessing about Mrs. Obama’s real plans.

The Tuesday before O-day (Obama Arrival day), our master chief emailed me: he was now out, and wanted to know if I could go. Yikes! A flurry of phone calls got my security clearance to the Secret Service (easy), moved my yard projects (somewhat harder), and got a babysitter lined up for Friday (by far, the most complicated part).  After a last minute dash to the tailors to make my summer white uniform ready to go, we were ready to meet the FLOTUS (First Lady of the United States) for her Friday arrival.

My wife and I drove to the base in the morning and parked at the recreation center, where we boarded a bus that took us to the Pennsylvania House, a massive house built during the Jamestown Exhibition, now used for formal meetings and gatherings. As we passed the house, I couldn’t help but notice the agents stationed at all corners. We walked off the bus and were wanded down by another agent, and herded into a large room. Hanging out with a lot of people we didn’t know, we managed some small talk until we were split into two groups.

The first group disappeared upstairs, and we went across the hall, into yet another large room that sported a US/Navy flag setup, some chairs, and a big plate of cookies! This was a very welcome site, since it was almost noon and I was starving. People were hesitant to approach the cookies, a group-think brain-lock I had encountered in the past. I decided to make a command decision by quickly stripping off the saran wrap, grabbing two cookies, and then stepping back. Having thus established the cookies were in fact very tasty, others soon followed my lead as we waited for the First Lady.

Suddenly, two Secret Service agents walked in, followed by Admiral Williams. Our group formed a line, and voila, Michelle Obama was in front of us. My first thought was: “Holy crap, she’s TALL!” I’m slightly over 6 feet tall, and she was almost eye level with me, and she wasn’t in excessively tall heels.

I then realized that seeing her on TV gave me no appreciation whatsoever for what she really looked like. She was dressed in an almost simple orange summer dress, and yet she radiated that simplistic beauty reserved for your typical “girl next door.” After quickly looking around the room, she gave a broad smile, greeted us, and then said “I believe its picture time!”

After my rather astute first thought, my second thought was “Where did all the agents go??”

There were Secret Service in the room, but they actually melded into the crowd. I expected at least one to be standing within arm’s reach of the First Lady, but in fact they gave her a lot of room. I had no doubts that if someone would have even made a vague threatening move, they would be swapping spit with the hardwood floor in a split second. The only people close to Mrs. Obama were her two aids, who were gathering purses so that pictures with the First Lady could be taken by the White House photographer.

I had resolved to not say much, since the focus was really more on my wife’s job as the ombudsman than me. I shook the First Lady’s hand and thanked her for coming. I then had my third realization: “Man, she can TALK!” My wife and the First Lady went back and forth almost non-stop for about a minute before we huddled closer and had our picture taken. I had already given her staffer a set of Second Fleet command coins, so my one task was complete.

And then, suddenly, it was over. We thanked her again, walked out, and walked back to the bus. Realizing the bus would take people to the USS Eisenhower to hear the First Lady’s speech, and needing to get back to the babysitter, we decided to hike across the golf course to our car. Luckily, security was so tight that we had no chance of becoming a golf ball death statistic.

What did I learn from this? Well, for starters, White House events buy good cookies. Mrs. Obama is in fact a very tall woman whose disarming smile and beauty hit you from across a room. Her events, at least with the military, aren’t so choked by security that you can’t enjoy them. Granted, we didn’t get a long conversation, but who does? I was surprised we even got the minute we did. In the end, it’s good to know that military families are in the watchful eye of someone on top.