I was in a large house with vaulted ceilings and skylights, sitting opposite Barack at the Fisher Price table my brother and I had when we were kids. Like old friends, Barack and I were catching up on life and chatting about foreign policy and health care. Finally he had to go and asked if he could use our bathroom on the way out. I said sure. A dozen or so of my friends were scurrying around the house, playing tag. Just as Barack reached the bathroom, a friend darted in front of him, went in, and slammed the door. He shrugged like it was no big deal. I apologized.