It was a noontime like any other Thursday at the Red Robin in Santa Ana, except for the police, the TV crews, a contingent of men in black and the dozens of people chanting slogans outside the entrance.
And, of course, the presence of the Terminator.
In these parts, he's also known as Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, looking more tanned and ready than Richard Nixon ever did and going table to table inside the restaurant to rally political support.
He has been here and done that before in Orange County, and the adoring masses couldn't seem to get enough of him in the past. But that was before he started taking tough political positions, which he is now. As soon as a politician starts in with that kind of foolishness, he's asking for trouble.
Schwarzenegger is getting his share these days, but to deny the man's star power is to deny the obvious. Who else could get TV news crews to show up at a burger-and-shake shop just because he wanted to enlist voters to sign petitions for a ballot initiative?
Only celebrities can pull that off.
Try to imagine the press response had former Gov. Gray Davis ever called to let it be known he'd be available for photo ops on pension reform.
It was enough to make you wonder whether the sign outside the Red Robin -- "The Best Thing Since Sliced Turkey" -- was really touting a menu item or was a clever plant by the governor's advance team.
Charles Jogwe of Santa Ana stood outside the restaurant to catch "just a glimpse" of Schwarzenegger. "Just to give him support," he says. "If only a few people come out to see him, he might feel he's losing support."
I ask if he thinks the governor still has his star power. "He still has it," Jogwe says.
Doug Hutchinson of Costa Mesa probably would agree. He was there with his son, Luke, who's almost 2 years old. "People ask me if I'm pro or con," Hutchinson says, referring to Schwarzenegger's pet issues. Hutchinson then taps his son's chest and jokes, "I tell them he's pro-'Kindergarten Cop.' "
As Davis learned, there's only one Arnold. And he still has the personal wattage.
As protesters outside the restaurant yelled, "Don't sign the petition!" people inside were hoping the Gov. would stop at their table. Businesswoman Catherine Park was in prime position for a handshake when, wouldn't you know it, her 16-month-old son Carter decided to make a fuss. Just like that, opportunity missed.
