I guess it was around 3 a.m, as I crossed the GA-FLA border that I began to ask myself what exactly I was doing. The overcast clouds that had broken off from Hurricane Isaac blocked any light the moon might have cast, leaving maybe 15 feet of visibility when it wasn’t raining, and probably around 2 feet when it was. I had been driving for 3 hours already through empty highways and rolling hills, contemplating everything that could possibly go wrong during this trip. I was driving into a possible political and literal storm for no real reason other than I felt I had to be there.

The protest hype in the weeks leading up to the convention was overwhelming, leading the Tampa PD to spend over 10 million dollars on additional security, cameras, and equipment. The media played a montage of clips from the NATO protest, the last RNC convention, and several other major protests in the last 5 years in an attempt to predict the possible demonstrations the RNC could expect. With the addition of a hurricane threat, the 24 hour news cycle became a mish-mash of katrina footage and images of riots. In spite of all of this, or maybe because of it, I was excited. It had been almost a year since the Occupy Atlanta protests, and the last time I felt proud of the work I had produced.

I pulled into my hotel around 5 a.m, checked in and walked to my room. Rows of tractor trailers took up most of the parking lot, and a young woman was standing outside her room on the 2nd floor screaming into a cell phone. I liked this hotel. I tried to sleep, but was too wired from the drive and a half gallon of gas station coffee. In my sleep-deprived caffeine-high, I some how found myself watching back to back episodes of ‘American Hoggers’, a “reality” show on hog hunters on A&E. It wasn’t until the Honey Boo Boo ad that I decided I was better off getting up and going for breakfast in the city. The sun had barely peaked over the horizon when I pulled off the I-4 and parked my car. With no real destination, I walked in the direction of the convention center.

Any Tuesday in Atlanta, where I spend most of my time, no matter what time of day, you will find yourself surrounded by cars, people, trucks, traffic, and all the signs of a living city. As I walked towards to the Tampa convention center I felt alone. I walked 3 blocks before I came across any person at all. I was starting to get worried that I had walked in the wrong direction when I heard the sound of drums in the distance. Breakfast was going to have to wait.

These Westboro-inspired protesters had drawn a medium sized crowd as one man bellowed out his hate fueled rants over a loudspeaker and bullhorn. Many in the crowd laughed them off, or snapped a few candids with their phones. Several people engaged the protesters, most devolving into heated screaming matches within minutes. I could only shake my head and walk away after a few minutes of making photos. Any time you have a national event with massive media coverage, these types of people are bound to show up.

After getting my fill of the “Love thy neighbor unless they’re gay or women” folks, I decided to make my way over to the convention center. There had been a lot of press around the Tampa police and the build up to the RNC, and the closer I got to the convention center the more apparent the police presence became. Squads of police on foot patrol and bikes moved in packs down empty streets and sidewalks. Overhead a police helicopter circled, and would be a constant companion for my entire time in Tampa.

The only real protesters present anywhere near the convention center were gathered around the south gate near Ashley and E. Whiting. A police check point consisting of dump trucks and gates to block access kept anyone without proper credentials from getting anywhere near the actual center. Most of the protesters were Ron Paul supporters, making a last minute plee for delegates to “vote with their conscious”. I’m not really sure if the Ron Paul supporters were aware of how the delegate process works, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

The delegates reacted mostly in shock and laughter at the small flag waving crowd, but a few states Paul had won started making their way to the center and would exchange hi-fives with the protesters outside the gates. I’m not sure if it was the weather, the first day cancelation, or just apathy in general that was causing such low numbers but it was relatively underwhelming.

As I drove back to my hotel at the end of the day, I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed in the over-all turn out. I found myself hoping it was just the weather that had scared people away and not a statement of the over-all apathy of this country.

The next morning I ventured out to ‘Romneyville’, the Occupy Tampa camp based just a few miles from the convention center. Placed on a leased piece of property next to the army-navy store, the camp boasted several port-a-potties, a stage and sound system, and even it’s own food tent.

There was a much larger group at the camp then I had expected, and while there I learned of several possible marches that day, as well as a flash mob action planned for later that evening. After hanging around for a bit, I headed back down town to get lunch and wait for Occupy to make it’s first move.

During my stay, I was struck at just how much propaganda and money surrounded this convention, and can probably be expected at the DNC. From buttons, hats, shirts, cell phone covers, street vendors had you covered. Even some of the protesters had come up with creative ways to make a buck off beliefs.

As the day wore on, nothing much had happened. All of the potential protests seemed to fizzle out, and I had resigned myself to going back to the hotel when I rounded the corner and came face to face at least a hundred cops, all carrying zip ties, and several members of the Lawyers Guild. I had seen enough of this in Atlanta to know what would be happening soon and decided I’d wait around for a little while longer. It wasn’t much longer when the sound of chanting and drums became audible several blocks away. The group was made up of Occupy members taking part in a flash mob, and were flanked on both sides by police on bicycles blocking traffic at each intersection. Once they reached their destination, the Occupy members laid out in the street while police and delegates looked on.

For as much noise as the protesters were able to muster, it didn’t change the fact that they were vastly out numbered by not only the police, but the media as well. Photographers, like myself, swarmed around the group like flies, and even the delegates and local residents would stand by snapping photos and taking video on their phones.

Just as quick as they had assembled the group was gone, moving back down Ashley Drive towards Romneyville. There were no arrests, and everything was about as peaceful as it could be, and as I made my way back to my car I couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about. Over $10 million dollars was spent to “protect” Tampa from the civil protest of about 150 people.

I woke on the last day of the convention with little hope of any more protests outside the convention. There was a small Code Pink rally, one or two small pockets of die hard Ron Paul supporters, and of the Jesus nuts were still all over, but no real sign of the occupiers. I spoke with several officers and other journalists, and the feeling was the same all over. It wasn’t until later I learned of a planned march through the city starting at Gas Lamp Park. When I arrived I was surprised to see the largest crowd since I had arrived in Tampa. There were people in costume, some wearing black bandanas over their face, and Police everywhere.

The marched moved from the park and through the streets, with police on either side stopped traffic for the planned route. At one point the protesters decided to change directions, something which became routine during the march, and the police were forced to scramble to change plans on the fly. I have to say I was rather impressed by the reaction of the officers to the protesters demands to change direction. Instead of starting a standoff in the middle of the downtown Tampa, the officers quickly adapted to the change and were able to stop traffic and safely move the march along.

The march wasn’t a very tense situation, and there was quiet a bit of performance art mixed in with everything. The protesters marched along with a giant Mitt Romney puppet, while several others dressed as “corporate pigs” and railed against the poor. Vermin Supreme even showed up, leading the march for a while proudly wearing his boot crown.

Tension stayed relatively low until the police started steering the crowd towards the pre-designated “parade routes”. It was at that point that the crowd locked arms and moved in towards police lines several times. A few members of the Occupy group, wearing black bandanas across their faces, engaged several officers in a dialogue in attempt to get passed. The police stood their ground, while several video taped the protesters, and eventually the group moved on.

After arriving at the end of the planned parade route, most of the group dispersed after a short while, and most of the police followed shortly after. It was a little after 1 am when I arrived at my hotel for the last time, with just enough time for a short nap before checking out and heading back to Georgia. As I sat in my uncomfortably small hotel bed watching Clint Eastwood talk to an empty chair, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. While my overall experience was good, I was sad to see such a poor turnout. Several people I spoke with indicated that they expected many more people to show up at the DNC this week. I suppose we’ll see if that is actually the case.