Talk About a Threat Matrix

"In Bogota, paranoids live longer," advised a State Department official, in advance of President Bush's five-nation jaunt through Latin America. Beware: people could try to poison reporters by slipping roofies into their drinks, the official warned. Be on guard for attempted robberies and kidnappings. As Air Force One began its descent into Bogota Sunday afternoon, for the first visit by an American president in nearly a quarter century, the warnings only intensified. Bogota, the TV screens on the plane told us, "presents the MOST SIGNIFICANT THREAT ENVIRONMENT of this five country trip." The message ranked both the terrorist and the criminal threat "high," and cautioned those on board to travel in groups while in the city. Once Air Force One touched down, Special Forces troops got behind the wheel of a decoy motorcade, to throw off any would-be plotters with designs on President Bush.

Being warned to watch out for the bad guys in Colombia was no puzzler, given the country’s violent reputation in recent years. But what is surprising is that Bush’s entourage has been warned of danger to Americans at nearly every stop on his tour of Latin America this week, perhaps a sign of how bad the United States’ reputation has gotten south of its border.

On the way to Uruguay, a country whose president seems friendly to Bush, the press pool of 14 reporters and photographers who fly on Air Force One were watching the 1988 film "Die Hard" when a security video interrupted the screening. In Montevideo, it warned, the threat to Bush and his entourage was rated as "critical."

A few seconds later, as the screen flickered back to a sweaty Bruce Willis fighting a band of vaguely European terrorists who have hijacked a Los Angeles office building in order to steal millions in money bonds, a member of the press pool laughed. "Terrorism was so simple back then," he said.

Indeed, life did seem simpler 20 years ago, especially for the man in the Oval Office. Bill Clinton once joked that he viewed the White House as the most secure prison in the world—and, in a post-9/11 world, that cage has only gotten more confined, especially on the road. Today, Bush cannot go anywhere without a massive security operation. And on his tour of South America, the bubble around him has grown bigger, amid massive protests over his visit and ever-present threats of violence.

In Brazil, Bush was transported in a nearly-mile-long motorcade that included no less than 40 vehicles. Roads were blocked off for miles to allow his entourage a traffic-free commute—a frustration that doubtless did not endear him to the local folks. Everywhere Bush went, he was shadowed in the sky by three helicopters—including one that flew so low it barely skimmed the trees and rooftops.

Bush's hotel, the Sao Paolo Hilton, included not one, but three security checkpoints manned by more than 100 security personnel, including Secret Service and members of the Brazilian federal police. Anyone trying to get into the hotel had their bags searched twice and X-rayed once. (So cautious were the authorities that a tube of lipstick in this reporter’s bag merited a closer look.) There were dozens of sharpshooters positioned on the rooftops of adjacent buildings and hundreds of machine-gun-toting police officers standing guard on the ground. And if that didn’t deter potential wrongdoing, there were military Humvees, armed with cannon-like guns, positioned on each corner of the hotel. Behind the scenes, hidden from the public eye, there were dozens more layers of presidential security.

Simple—or even normal—is no longer a word you would use to describe a presidential visit, especially Bush’s visit down south. What you see on TV is never what it seems. Before leaving Sao Paulo, Bush visited a local community center, where underprivileged kids were taught to dance and sing, and cameras caught Bush shaking a maraca and bobbing his head to a performance. Outside, crowds were kept away from the area by riot fences. Inside the center, there was little, if any sunlight; thick sheets of black fabric were tacked over the windows to keep the president and First Lady Laura Bush out of view from potential assassins.

On the way to the airport, there were reminders of why Bush’s security detail believes all of this stuff is important. Bush’s bulletproof limo passed unfriendly crowds, including protesters who gave him the one-finger salute and booed. Later, a rogue motorcyclist tried to pass Bush’s limo. But the biggest sign that Bush was treading in territory that is no longer so friendly was the writing on the wall, literally. His motorcade passed no fewer than 10 freshly painted areas of graffiti, none flattering to 43. BUSH IS A MURDERER! read one, which was spray-painted in giant blood red lettering along the side of a highway barrier wall.

Yet Brazil was considered more friendly than Colombia, which was the biggest security worry on the trip. Air Force One landed under heavy guard at the Bogota airport, where decoy motorcades were lined up on the tarmac so as to confuse any potential attackers. White House officials asked reporters on the trip not to report that detail until Bush had left the country, citing not just his safety but that of the journalists as well.

Along the motorcade route, it was clear why: a massive crowd of protesters, blocked by hundreds of riot police, rushed Bush’s limo as it passed under a highway overpass near Casa de Narino, where Bush met with Colombian President Alvaro Uribe. The protesters, which numbered several thousand, screamed and threw trash at the cars as Bush passed.

When asked about the protests—either at home or abroad—Bush always has the same answer: he views it as just a "part of the job" and says it’s good for democracy. But it’s clear that Bush and his aides are worried about the anti-American sentiment—particularly that being whipped up by Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, even though Bush has yet to even say his name on this trip.

On Saturday, Bush touted a "quiet but effective diplomacy" in the region during his stop in Uruguay—a clear dig at Chavez and his bombastic statements made during his "anti-imperialist" tour in Argentina this week.

"I don’t think America gets enough credit for trying to help improve people’s lives," Bush said in Brazil on Thursday. "My trip is to explain, as clearly as I can, that our generation is generous and compassionate."

But with security such a risk in the countries he has visited, it’s hard to say how well Bush’s message is being heard. Beyond screened visits with local business leaders or activists, the president has seen few average people on his visit this week—beyond the gawkers standing by the roadside watching him roll by.

Not that they could be blamed for staring. On his way out of Bogota, Bush rode in an armored SUV instead of his regular limo and his vehicle was located more toward the middle of the motorcade, rather than at his usual position up front, all in the name of security. Reporters traveling with Bush counted more than 70 cars in the president’s motorcade—one of the longest and most heavily guarded road trips in recent memory.