Day two. "Woke up. Got outa bed. Dragged a comb across my head" I had no idea what I was going to experience, what our country was going to experience, what our planet was going to experience. There was no way I could have imagined or hoped that the enormity of this protest would be what it turned out to be.
I got to the metro station. Fortunately it was the beginning of one of the lines, so the cars started out empty. They became full immediately, and by immediately I mean this first stop on the line! As the train made its way downtown, more people were able to squeeze in. The cars became the proverbial can of sardines, and we, the sardines, were in high spirits and energized. We were "fired up and ready to go". There were three possible stops to get off at. I got off at the first, Judiciary Square. The subway station was wall to wall people on both sides of the tracks, the escalators and the entrance way. We walked down to 3rd and Independence, right in front of The native American Museum. The stage for speakers and a jumbo tron were about a block & a half south on 3rd. Unfortunately we, where I was, could not hear, but we all agreed that we could hear the speakers later and that the important thing was that we were there. Adding our individual voices to the collective voice. We were completely immobilized by the shear number of people per square yard, per square foot. There were constant single file rivulets moving through this sea of humanity, but for three and a half hours, I stayed put. I was probably shifted this way or that within a two square foot area, by the crowd, but that was it.
On the street, right next to the curb, there were large metal plates, staked three or four high with railroad ties between the plates. They were used the day before, on the mall and had been dismantled and stacked up for removal. People were standing on these 'platforms' and again, without the ability to move. There was a solar powered parking kiosk near me & just enough room on the solar array for one person to stand on. It was used by many protesters during the day. The trees had sprouted human fruit, high up in their branches. Traffic light standards had people perched on them. The walls of the American Indian Museum had been scaled, where they could be, with protesters on three levels of brick terraces on the building.
We of course were chanting. We also sang. The chants came in waves. I could hear them from afar and then wash over the area I was standing in and it was loud! We had various 'cheer leaders' take to the platforms and the solar array. They were passionate and they also had fun. Someone passed a bull horn to two women on the platform, that saved their voices. Another woman, standing on the solar array didn't need the bull horn. She was loud and she really got the surrounding crowd going. The crowd's response obviously energized her further. She must have been running on adrenaline for her voice to remain intact.
The official start of the speaker program started at 10am. It was scheduled to go for three hours, but ran a little over. After three and a half hours the speakers were done and we the protesters were ready to go. It took about fifteen to twenty minutes for the movement to get to where we were. The movement started at the west end of the crowd and moved east. It was not until we were freely marching that I started, only started, to fathom the scope of what we had done. The dyke had broken and now this mass of humanity turned into many rivers, each one feeding the other.
Here is the basic layout of the affected area. Going east to west, 8th street to 18th street. Going South to north, Independence (which is the south line of the Smithsonian Museums) north to H street (which is many blocks north of Pennsylvania Avenue until you get to 18th where they meet). The lettered & numbered streets form a square grid, where as the streets named after states are diagonals cutting through the grid. EVERY street in the area I have described was wall to wall people, from buildings on one side of the street to the buildings on the other side of the street.
The main river was Pennsylvania Avenue, but do not think that the other streets aren't wide, because the are. As we marched down Pennsylvania, the reviewing stands from the day before were filled with supporters, with protesters watching us protest. When we walked past the trump hotel on Pennsylvania, the river made a horrible noise for the whole time that we walked from its east end to its west end. Just as when we were standing on the Mall, the sound was a continual wave through the protesters, but remaining a constant at the hotel.
In a few more blocks, we came to the White House or at least as close as anyone was going to get. Pennsylvania Avenue was fenced off a little before 15th street and again on the other side a little before 17th. This was a security measure and fully understood. We could see the north east corner of the building. There where a couple of flat bed trucks strewn around the street for the purpose of breaking down and removing the bleachers. They had already started and the trucks were stacked high. Protesters had climbed on the trucks and up to the top of the loads on the trucks. Protesters were perched on ledges of walls on the building across the street. As the crowd filed by the closest approach to the White House, we let trump know how we felt about him. There was, again, a constant booing and cat calls (remember, this was the 'pussy' march) that stayed in this one place where a 'u' turn was occurring as the fence turned us back. There was one Secret Service agent standing guard, but he was like a medium sized rock on the shore of a mighty river, inconsequential. I went up to him and sincerely shook his hand and thanked him for his service. At first he was skeptical and apprehensive, but then he saw I meant it and he appreciated it.
So, after paying my disrespects to trump, I turned back and went to 14th street. I went up the hill to D Street and then looked back from where I had come. D is well above the basin and what I saw, was when I had the true sense of the enormity of it all. I was looking down the hill and further, all the way to Independence Avenue. It was one very wide, river; uninterrupted. It may have gone further south than Independence, but that was the horizon and the mass went right up to that horizon. I would say the distance I was looking at was a mile and there were people going up the hill as well. and people on all the cross streets, again not scattered, but a solid mass. At the corner of 14th and D there were motorcycle police with there sirens on and turning west (slowly, they were completely surrounded). I went down D street and found a thirty foot trailer with a couple of bikes on it and about 5 guys. The trailer had large letters spelling 'trump' and signs on it declaring his greatness. There was also a sign declaring them "bikers for trump". They were surrounded by about six or seven thousand people. The police were coming to 'rescue' them. The crowd was peaceful and were simply chanting at these guys. Things like "hey hey, go home, donald trump has got to go" over and over again. The din was extremely loud. Then we shouted "shame on you" for a long time. I left after about 5 minutes, but this crowd wasn't going anywhere although individuals did move. The river continued to be replenished with fresh protesters to continue the shaming of these bikers.
When I was at the top of the hill on 14th, I texted my son, who goes to George Washington University (GW). Saturday was his first day working on the GW EHS (emergency health services) team. He was expecting to do his shift on campus from 10 to 2. I was letting him know I was walking over to his dorm. He texted back and told me he was at the med tent at 14th and Constitution. I could see the white tent, down the hill, half way between where I was and the horizon I described, above. He would be off at 6pm. I walked over to campus and hung out in the lower floors of his dorm where there are some eateries. There were others my age there, not just students. I fell into a conversation with a woman, while we watched the reporting on the TV about The March. She noted that she had heard the estimated number of marchers was 1.2 million. When my son got back, a little after six and without prompting from me in any way (I didn't even ask, he just volunteered the information), he corroborated that number. He had gotten this number from officials visiting the med tent during the afternoon.
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was exhausted and my voice was gone, but I was energized. I felt empowered, exhilarated.
When I learned how many cities and towns, not only in the U.S., but around the world, on every continent, I felt that the world had woken up. These men and women, around the world, were acting like they were citizens of one planet, not separate countries. They even marched in Antarctica. Not only was I fired up, but the world was and we're all ready to go!
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