Covering an international meeting like the one involving the Aging Politicians Expecting Cocktails is a test in patience.

APEC has become one great bureaucracy catering to the egos of the leaders who belong to the club. Although if you’re the American President you’re without equal, or even close to it, despite the fact the Chinese would have an argument with that.

This time in Manila the Americans have created a pocket of their security fortress, a bit like a home away from home.

Journalists wanting to get a glimpse of the 12 leaders who’ve signed up to the Trans Pacific Partnership got a first-hand taste of it. They were forced to arrive at the giant marque housing a meeting of them two hours early.

They were told to place their bags on the ground and step away so the dogs could have a sniff and presumably anything they may have missed would be picked up by the eagle eyed and armed bag rustlers.

Reacquainted the luggage and patted down we were rushed through the plush foyer of the five star Manila Sofitel which has been entirely taken over by Barack and his buddies for the week. Interestingly in another downmarket part of town, the Chinese President has taken over a tatty, aging three star joint, essentially because apparently the Filipino/Chinese mega rich brewery baron businessman could be trusted.

Under the giant, air conditioned marquee the arrival of the TPP leaders was awaited. Just under half an hour before the sirens came into hearing, the media scrum were ordered, like children at a playschool, to proceed in single file to the holding pen. Exposed to the elements, it was like a wet sauna with the ground just having been soaked with a torrential downpour.

After what seemed like an age, the suited, sweating entourage was ushered into a cramped part of the marque for what the Americans insist on calling a photo spray. In fact this one resembled a feline spray, with nothing but the scent of the leaders’ sweet smelling after shave lingering.

They had posed for their photo for their official photographer but seemed to have forgotten the world’s snappers.

There may not have been a photographic souvenir of what was a wasted several hours, but at least there was one. A White House press pool tag they insisted on us wearing, even if the most prominent letter printed on it was a giant, lonesome L.

If that was meant to be a learner’s plate, they can count this one out!