It was so close to my bike route that I couldn't refrain from stopping by. I actually went past the park at first, but the roaring in the near-distance drew me back. I wheeled my bike in close, joining the streaming crowds. My baby blue tank top (an unintentional statement, but an accurate one), swam, lonely, in a sea of red shirts (I kept expecting some of them to keel over, dying theatrically). The small group of protesters were half-heartedly engaged in a OBAMA!-NOBAMA! call and answer with the buttons/hats/signs/other-paraphernalia-of-all-sorts vendors, but the majority of the crowd ignored them. I thought about going in, but security was daunting and work was wailing its siren call (You're late!!!!). Plus, you know, the helmet.
The bike path was closed, due to the area being crawling with police, so I had to turn back after walking alongside the be-suited, enthusiastically squealing and/or paraphernalia-waving crowds to the security gate. I wheeled my bike slowly back the way I came, enjoying the spectacle, but slightly dismayed by the size of the crowd (there are Republicans in NOVA! Lots of 'em!).
When I got to the street where I made my original turn towards the rally, I saw the policeman in charge of that intersection hop on his motorbike and turn on his lights. A moment later, a phalanx of motorcycle cops drove through. Then followed a series of black SUVs and vans, and, finally, the Straight Talk Express. It was neat, seeing the convoy carrying The Man and That Woman, but mostly I was thinking that the safety of high-profile figures in America depends remarkably on the goodwill of the public.
So, my first non-rally. I tried to watch some of the live streaming video of the speeches over the WaPo, but the feed kept cutting out. There was a special thrill seeing that coverage, knowing that I'd walked past the site just minutes before - even overcoming the annoyance that they'd closed off a great deal of my usual bike route. Maybe when the Other Guy comes to town...
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