ONE of the highlights of my life thus far was in 2008 when I was fortunate enough to travel to the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colo., as a blogger representing Guam.

Conventions like these are managed to an almost ridiculous extent nowadays. They are enormous pageants, meant to introduce the two parties to the United States and show how each of their respective tents is the biggest and the best. This is the façade that most people are meant to watch on TV or read about in the paper. It is meant to look polished, poised, sophisticated and serious. In truth, the convention is chaos. It is chaos at so many levels. It is the type of chaos that gives party leaders gray hairs by the handful and ulcers by the pound. It is the sort of thing that would make terrible television, but can be fun and beautiful in terms of creating unique experiences and long-lasting memories.

The sheer amount of people at a convention is astounding. Thousands descend upon the convention, coming from all over the United States and its territories. They arrive with different interests, agendas, problems and dreams. Guam stuck out as one of the more unique delegations at the convention. Wearing bright red floral print shirts they would get regular cheers of “Aloha!” from other delegates. It was interesting how even after they learned that these particular delegates were from Guam, they still said “Aloha” assuming it must be a part of Hawaii.

For the 2008 DNC, Guam was fortunate enough to get seated on the convention floor, as opposed to usually being in the nosebleed seats with other territories and less important states. The hierarchy of delegations is something people don’t often notice while watching at home. The states of those who are going to be nominated are of course seated close to the stage, as are the delegations from “battleground” states, which the party hopes to win in the coming election. Around the floor I heard regular complaints from people of all state delegations, who quietly bemoaned the fact that a mere territory, who they knew little to nothing about, could be seated in front of them.

During the roll call, where each delegation announced how many votes they had and who they were being given to for the nomination, Guam further distinguished itself. Pilar Lujan, the local party chair, introduced Guam as “Where America’s Day Begins,” something that received applause. She then continued reminding everyone present that Guam continues to seek self-determination and war reparations from the United States, two concepts most people watching didn’t quite understand.

My own personal experiences were varied, moving from frustrating to inspiring. Representing a small blog from a small island, very few people had time to speak to me or return my calls. The only elected officials who were gracious enough to speak to me at any length were the non-voting delegates from the Virgin Islands, American Samoa, Guam and Washington D.C. Each of them told me in their own words that they were happy to meet with me, since the people from the territories have to stick together.

Over the course of my week in Denver, I was shoved out of the way three times by three different secret service delegations. The first night I met Congressman Steny Hoyer’s security. On the third night, I met the security for Sen. Joe Biden’s family. The most exciting of my trio of secret service encounters came on the second night of the convention. I was backstage interviewing Congresswoman Bordallo. She became distracted by a large mass of people moving towards us down the hallway. When I turned to see what it was, a secret service agent pushed me aside to make way for former President Bill Clinton. The congresswoman brimmed with excitement as she greeted the President. He gave her one of his sly smiles and said, “I know you, you’re from Guam.” He then gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

On the final night of the convention, then-Sen. Barack Obama accepted the nomination before a crowd of 84,000 and a television audience of 38 million. The floor of Invesco Field could only be accessed by delegates and by media. The majority of the people attending could not get access there, but there were still thousands of media people on the floor clogging the aisles between folding chairs, squirming, shoving and literally crawling on the floor to get as close to the President as possible. I crawled as well, through an ocean of ecstatic delegates and eager journalists to come within site of the man who would later become President. It was a perfect moment, one I will never forget. When he finished his speech, fireworks went off and the stadium erupted.

I wish President Obama the best as he and the Democrats kick off the 2012 DNC in Charlotte this week.