Wednesday night, the email went out "Obama will be making an appearance in Seattle on Friday!" Lots of folks at work invited me (I wear an Obama button on my purse) and I carefully invited lots of people. (It goes w/o saying that most of the folks at a progressive hippy-dippy preschool will be voting for Obama or Clinton, and most of us are gentle enough with one another to not be unkind about choosing one or the other, but one must'nt offend.) I had an appointment that morning that I couldn't reschedule (Everything's fine, thanks for asking.) but I thought I could make it in. Door's were scheduled to open at 11 and I could get there by 11:15... he wasn't going to sell out Key Arena by THEN.
WRONG. It was awesome, like a big circus. The doors had already closed by the time I got there, and there were still thousands of us hanging around wondering what was next. Nobody was sure. We'd see a crowd near a door and line up behind them as easily as possible, alternately calling other people for more information or straining to hear the people around us guess about what was happening. I wandered from one door to the next pretty comfortable already with the idea that I wouldn't get in, just enjoying the mass of people. It was gorgeous.
I've been to a lot of rallies and marches since I moved to Seattle, and often there's a sense of... agency, or entitelment or something. The guy dressed like the statue of liberty knows EXACTLY what he's doing here and why it's right, and makes sure that as many people as possible can be enlightened by him as possible. The hippie family with the dirty faced toddlers carrying home made signs that say "Please Mr. Bush, use your words." are certain that the statue of liberty guy is just a Fremont freak who probably eats refined sugar and has never called his senators. The clog-ged folks from the Service Committee of Friends are tired of carrying their huge banner and wish all these johnny-come-lately folks would start donating to the people who are actually doing the work to end the war. Almost all of these folks are white, unless you're at the Black Dollar Days or the Martin Luther King Day March.
But here, at Key Arena, everyone had a look on their faces like they were the luckiest people on the planet to be here. (I didn't bring my camera. Ours is big and clunky... I've got to get a cool little one.) There were teenagers, and grandmothers, and none of us were showing off for one another (ok, the teenagers were, but it's not their fault). We were proud of each other and grateful that together we made a tremendous crowd. Our caucus was the next day, and we could look over a sea of people and feel sure that most of us (and our friends and families) would turn out to vote for Obama. A caucus is an elitist, activist way to vote and is NOT democratic but it's really inspiring, and for us all to have a little taste of what Saturday looked like made the trip worth it before Senator Obama even took the stage.
After awhile a voice came on the loudspeaker, asking us to slowly and calmly back away from the doors because there was no room inside. Again, I felt a surge of camaraderie as thousands of Seattlites turned (slowly AND calmly) and put our cellphones to our ears to check in with someone else about what comes next. They made plans about work, and transportation and who knows what else. Lots of people stayed outside and waited and hours later heard the speech through loudspeakers. I rode the bus up the hill with them later. I heard that Senator Obama even came outside to talk with them and thank them. My pal Stevie T was inside, but I had already tried to call him and had learned that it was too loud there for him to hear me. I texted him and Z that I couldn't get in. They both asked the same thing: if I was finding a nearby bar to watch in.
By the time I got their messages, I was standing outside of "Floyd's place" a barbeque joint and sports bar. I had already watched two groups of folks peer inside, say "They have tv's" then say "There's a bunch of us, I bet if we asked them to, they'd change the channel." then walk in. I looked at the menu (there is a sculpture of a pig dancing with a cow spinning above the front door, an omen "Vegetarians stay away!") and did not feel the hope of moments before. Eventually, though I went in, sat next to two dudes in Obama t-shirts, double checked and found that I could eat macaroni and cheese or nachos. I chose nachos. The place was a mad house. I am sure that they are no busier or rowdier on a Friday night at midnight than they were on that Friday afternoon at 11:30. There was only one barstaff, one floor person, one barback and one cook and EVERYONE wanted food and beer now. (Except for me, who had foolishly skipped breakfast. I didn't want beer.)
It was a tricky and exhausting thing because we all still felt this great thing about each other, but we were also waiting forever for food, and beer and our candidate. We'd heard that he'd be on at noon, so we hurried to discover what channel to watch. Everyone was nervous because most of the tv's were showing college basketball and one was on Cnn. I don't watch the news, so I was surprised to find that CNN was so ... sordid and yechy. We were all sure it'd be on KING 5, so at one point I was charmed to be sitting in a bar, watching Days of our Lives against our will. I kept thinking of how much we all said we wanted change, and yet, I recognized the "mom" as the "rebellious teenager with an evil twin" from when I was an adolescent watching the show.
Of course, folks chanted from time to time, which just wasn't nice (the Man hadn't showed up to keep us down. We were kept down by tv networks.) but felt just perfect and perfectly awful. The one guy who could reach a television kept changing the channel based on tips from his neighbors until the bartender told him to keep his hands to himself. We ended up getting the same 5 minutes of the speech from MSNBC and CNN(weirdly not the FIRST 5, or the last just a 5 minute chunk from the middle).
When they showed part of Clinton's speech in Seattle from the day before the bartender said "Because what we really need is a Mom... the founding fathers have left us!"
(The estimates say there were about 21,000 people there... 18,000 inside and 3,000 listening outside, but there were more. There were at least 5,000 people who descended upon lower Queen Anne's bars, restaurants and stores.) I went to work late, of course, and then had to describe that no, I wasn't really AT the rally, but it was worthwhile somehow.
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