 If you want to know what power feels like, try to get yourself driven around in a motorcade. Flashing police chaperone lights form a perimeter as you blaze down an empty highway, waiting cars backed up on entry ramps as you pass. It's as if the world is holding its breath for you. Also, rules don't apply. At nine mile, an entourage of 30 or so are noisily hustling to follow a trim blonde woman in a pristine white suit as she strides nonchalantly past clanging, gurgling, brewing vats, aiming for a back office. This is my first glimpse of First Lady Dr.