Obama and me in Cleveland

He wasn’t wearing a sarong, nor working the NYT Sunday crossword, but Obama in person, even in a suit and crossword free, is a sight to behold.

Yesterday I had to good fortune to see our president give a speech at Tri-C (local community college). My friend Simona works there, and as a recovering Romanian, she’s very politically conservative. My informal survey of anyone who’s ever lived under Communism is that, when they come to the U.S., that’s how they are. (I can understand that, but I still think we need health care.) In any case, Simona is not a fan of Obama and gave me her ticket. (Thanks Simona!!)

I was worried about how I would pull it off logistically. Step one, I got another mom (thanks Lori!) to pick up the kids from Science Center Camp that afternoon. Step two, I canceled an after-camp appt, so that I had nothing to worry about in terms of when and how I got out of the speech/traffic situation. That part was pretty easy. The part I really worried about was the physical end of it.

Seeing the president, if you’re not familiar, involves a lot of standing in lines. I mean, a LOT.  Also they don’t let you bring anything in whatsoever… I mean, nothing to eat or drink, nothing to read or do, just… nothing. Three things that make me dizzy: standing upright for long periods of time, dehydration, and low blood sugar. This day seemed like a fine mix of all, and I pictured myself lying on the pavement instead of being in the presence of my boyfriend in person.

I did what I could to avoid trouble– mostly I went to a restaurant (thanks Lucky’s!) and ate the hugest possible breakfast. It was called the Shipwreck, a massive scramble of organic eggs, veggies, and no-nitrate bacon. No matter how much I kept eating it, it never seemed to get any smaller. Finally I sent it away. The waitress encouraged me that I had made a nice dent, but I wasn’t so sure. I had the anxious concern that I hadn’t eaten anything at all.

The next challenge was parking. The doors opened at 11:30, and rumor had it Obama would speak at 1:45. I headed over there around ten, wanting to thread the needle between too late and too early. It turned out I hit it just right. I found a parking space rather easily, and it was only $3.00 for six hours. So easily in fact that I doubted whether I truly was allowed to park there. A police officer pulled up in a golf cart and so I asked him, “Can I really park here to see Obama?” He replied, “You just did!” That was a good omen… as the jovial cop began to tell me how to get to the venue, he was waiting for an older lady with a cane to get her purse. As she hobbled up to the cart, he said to me, “Okay, okay, just hop on back! I’m not supposed to do this!” I got a good belly laugh out of both of them when I said, “I’ll try to look innocuous.”

Grateful! So grateful that I got a ride up out of the ramp and all the way, close to the gym where the line was forming. I helped the little old lady across the street and to a bus shelter where she was going to wait for special handicapped access to the event. I think that got me some good karma, because next thing I know I was in the red-ticket line, get this, IN THE SHADE.

Yes, the shade and the cool breezes really are what saved this whole event, because I had to stand there, as it turned out, for the better part of two hours. The line behind me began to stretch and stretch off into the high noon sun, but I was really up quite close to front.

Way back there someone must've collapsed, because the EMTs came at one point.

I chatted with those around me, and made friends with some ladies in front of me, which proved to be an asset later in the game. The crowd was overwhelmingly African-American, with a few white folks like me sprinkled in. The energy crackled with happiness and pride. I especially loved all the old black ladies with their sparkly Obama vests and hundreds of Obama buttons and fancy Sunday-best hats.

It turned out that my “red ticket” was a good one to have for some reason and our line felt very special. The doors did not open at 11:30, though, nor 12:00. College age volunteers kept roaming up and down the line, asking everyone urgently whether their tickets were filled out, whether they had photo ID, and were prepared for airport-like security. As the line finally started to move, a huge hoard — maybe 20 people– of Tri-C students in special blazers just totally butted in in front of me. They claimed they were “ambassadors” and “had to stay in a group.” Luckily my new friends from the line– a group of young black professional women– fished me out of the mess, and said, “You’re with us!” Luck, I tell you, lady luck smiled on me the whole time.

Indeed, later after security I wanted to go ahead and save seats for them to repay the favor, but I was shuttled into the gym and lost them in the crowd (thanks ladies, wherever you are!). It was very hard to control one’s own pace and location in the sort of cattle-like way we were being handled. The people didn’t have electric prods per se, but they were quite firm. Anyway, eventually I got to my seat, and this was the view:

How great is this?

I mean, so great!! I could not believe how small the venue was, just an ordinary gym with bleachers along one side, some folding chairs on the floor, and a large area blocked off for press. The black ladies around me clued me in that the VIP area was brimming with dignitaries from local black churches. I said that maybe he wanted to woo them because of the gay marriage thing, and they assured me that nothing, nothing, nothing Obama could ever do would lose him the black vote. Maybe this was a biased group of people, but they seemed to know what they were talking about.

I expected a whole string of dignitaries introducing each other, working up to maybe Mayor Jackson or something. But in fact they just had one guy give a prayer, one guy lead the pledge, and one lady sing the national anthem. Then there was another half hour pause, during which people walked up and down in front of the crowd starting cheers. Helene Cooper of the NYT described it well:

In Cleveland, the crowd of about 1,500 at the community college was kept purposely low because this was a “speech, not a rally,” campaign aides said…. But many in the crowd acted as if they were at a rally anyway, doing the wave, chanting the ubiquitous “fired up, ready to go” slogan from Mr. Obama’s 2008 campaign and interrupting his speech with raucous cheers and expressions of agreement.

It was a raucous crowd, although I would say the wave was not a success. People around kept saying, “C’mon people! We’re on TV! Let’s make some noise!” And indeed there was a wall of cameras trained on us. At some point, a rumor spread that his plane had landed. Someone nudged me and pointed out that the wall of cameras had turned from the crowd to point at the podium. A wave of reporters and camera people came in and began to station themselves in front of the podium. (Incredibly long lenses, although they were three feet away?). “OOOH!” one lady told me, “I’m getting goose bumps! I think they’re going to play ‘Hail to the Chief’!”

But they didn’t. In fact, impressed as I was by the smallness of the gym, and the simplicity of the folding chairs, I was even more impressed by the simple way Obama was introduced. A working mom and Tri-C nursing graduate came out and talked about her struggles and successes, and her desire to send her daughter to college. And then the president simply walked in. Just like that. Hum-de-dum, yes, I’m the leader of the free world, hello.

The crowd of course went berserk, present company included.  I took many pictures with my phone, which were mostly pretty blurry and bad. I think this is the best of the lot.

Yes!! There he is!

He delivered what really felt like a serious campaign speech.  I would summarize it as saying, “If you liked 2000-2008, and how the economy was handled during that time, you should vote for Romney. That’s what he’s going to give you if he’s president.”

He spoke for almost an hour, eloquently, of course, but also passionately. I just loved watching him– I loved his intensity and his passion. I hadn’t realized, in all the times I’ve heard him and seen him on TV, how much of a firebrand he is. That’s the word that kept coming to mind, “Firebrand.”

He is wonderful!!

As he started winding up his speech, I was stunned to see some foolish people beginning to file down the aisles, like in the seventh inning of a losing baseball game. “It’s not a movie, people!” someone yelled. Seriously. Also, this did them no good whatsoever. Even after it was all over, and the crowd flowed down and out towards the door, we all had to wait some more.

A bad part of the experience.

This is the part where I started to feel pretty bad. Dizzy, weak, very, very tired. I had to stand there in that crowd another — what? — twenty minutes maybe while they emphatically did not open the doors. At least it was cool, and I don’t have claustrophobia, no one pushed, and I’m sure there was a good reason for it. But I really wanted to crumple to the floor. By this time it was 3:00 p.m., and I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since about 9:30. I needed a bio break. My body, which had held up incredibly well through all this, truly started to rebel.

But eventually they let us free. I walked out into the sunshine, and found an old man selling buttons. Of all the copious Obama paraphernalia on sale that day, this is the one thing that truly called to me. I wear it now with pride.

My boyfriend in his natural habitat

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