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Sunday, Apr. 21, 2002 / 11:10 a.m. ~Regrets About Being Quoted, and Stories From the Bus~ Days like this I need a blog. I'm sure I'll wind down sooner or later. I'm guessing I really got a good bit of sleep on the bus last night and this morning, and that McDonald's coffee kicks ass, because I've got some energy. Still, I can't stop thinking about what an assinine comment that was that I made for the paper, "we can't go around killing everyone who disagrees with us...". What? What did I mean? Why did I say that? And why didn't he quote the part I said about a war on terrorism being a never ending proposition? That was more intelligent. Was he trying to make me look stupid? Jesus God!, as one of my favorite columnists (not in that rag, but in the free weekly, a superior publication) likes to say. So, I can't stop thinking about it. It's currently surpassing any anxious feelings I was having about Sandy (not his real name, but let's call him that) having my phone number. Sandy is the 45 year old with the 11 year old son whom we shall call Abe. They're cool, really, and when we got back on the bus, after becoming separated when Sandy wanted to talk to the Hassidic Jew, and Skipper (not his real name either, but he's the older guy, the yoga teacher, smartass older guy with the shaved head who also asked me out - I'd say he's in his mid 50s), Dagwood (not his real name - he was the quiet one who'd traveled alone on the bus, and clearly didn't want to lose us so hung with us all day) and I wanted to keep marching. So, Sandy and Abe were on their own as Dagwood, Skipper and I sat on the grass on the Mall in front of the Capitol building (and no, it's not a shopping mall, for anyone who's never been there, it's just a long grassy park area that stretches from the Capitol to the Washington Monument), Skipper sleeping eventually, Dagwood trying to hear the speakers, me watching the endless parade of people of all nationalities, all colors, all shapes and sizes, ages, etc. I took the occasional picture and I'll post some here if they look worthy. My point was, and yes, I had one, that Sandy and Abe got back on the bus at the end of the day and they both approached me, perhaps Abe simply sticking to his Dad like he'd done all day, so Sandy could ask if we might have lunch or something once we got back to town, sometime. Oh, and am I dating anyone, or married or anything? Um, no, sure, okay, that would be nice. Little did he know I've not been asked out in almost a year. Yeppers. Well, except Skipper asked me out maybe half an hour before, and his invitation was for dinner, to discuss our activist activities. A veiled excuse. I knew he was flirting with me. Skipper didn't ride the bus back, he stayed in D.C. to visit a friend. But I liked Skipper's smartass attitude. He's a hardened cynic, I think. He hated that we were accomodating the Muslims' prayer schedules, he didn't want to be around any overt religious displays, thought that maybe they could pray to themselves as Christians do, but I don't think he was seriously aggravated, just being obnoxious. So we were obnoxious together throughout the day yesterday, and it was fun making him laugh. It was fun when he spotted the photographer from our paper and we got our picture taken. And it was fun when we so spontaneously went into the Ronald Reagan building to pee, even after having to show our photo IDs, run our bags through an X-ray machine, and Sandy kept setting off the alarm as the rest of us were going up in the elevator. It meant we missed the beginning of the March though and that sucked because we were disconnected all day. Maybe it was just I who was disconnected. I'm reading coverage now, online, from Reuters and the AP, and CNN is still on in the living room, and I'm thinking it was varied, it was diverse, and if nothing else it at least showed that there are tens of thousands of Americans who can peacefully get together to speak out against whatever injustices exist. Even if we didn't all have one central cause, we were joined in a desire for justice and peace, and I know I'm repeating myself, but I'm trying to feel good about the experience, I'm trying to get past the stupid quote in the paper on the fucking third page, trying to stop worrying about comments I'll hear from people at work tomorrow, trying to realize that I did what I thought was right, I was supporting the oppressed, I was speaking out, just by being there, and that's more than a lot of people would even consider doing. Not that I'm saying I'm better, I'm just saying that regardless of whether I think I said the right things, I did the right things, and I'm happy with myself for that. I'm sure Sandy and I will talk more about it, because he is a Jew and he has strong feelings, he realizes it's not a black and white issue, there is so much that is complex, beyond the scope of any of our imaginings here in this country, but he wants to learn and understand all of it. And I do too. Plus, he's a former Deadhead, and he dreams of moving to New Mexico too, and he freaked out when I told him that's my dream. Abe's eyes got huge. In my mind I'm carrying it as far as I think it can go, and I don't think that's very far, but I'd do lunch, sure, I would. As far as Skipper goes?? Well, he's kind of scary for some reason, but he's organizing this huge rally in September and I'm on his volunteer list, so there's that. He wants me to show up at the meeting for volunteers on Tuesday, but I hedged and refused to commit. We'll see. On the bus: A woman in her early 40s accompanied by her mom who must be in her 70s and lives in Tallahassee. A woman and her sister, accompanied by the one's two daughters, aged 9 and possibly 12 or 13, all African American from Tuskeegee, Alabama. A group of hackey sack playing neo-hippies, from anywhere, probably our town. One girl picked up cigarette butts in the parking lot of the gas station where we stopped for diesel. I heard her through the closed window saying "It's pollution", and I wanted to salute her. At least a 'power to the people' fist in the air! I love it when young people care about the environment. (I bought one button at the Rally, it says, "Every Day is Earth Day") The Action Center members, one from Italy, one from Russia, one from South Africa. And the one from Russia and I got to talking waiting for the bus to arrive Friday and I thought, Wait a second, how can you really be protesting a government which is allowing you to be here on a Visa to study in one of our schools? I don't know, it didn't seem right the way she was criticizing so much. I said, "Look, if this were Communist China we couldn't even gather to have this protest, we'd probably be shot trying to pass out flyers. This is great that we have the freedom to gather and demonstrate en masse!" And a lesbian couple. I turned to see people sleeping, check out their positions yesterday morning, and the one had her head on the other's chest. The two little African American girls behind me were the little one sleeping on the other's lap. I wanted to take their picture. The younger one had sat with me for a bit, speaking very intelligently about how there is nothing to do in Tuskeegee, how far they have to drive just to see a movie, and how much she was looking forward to our stopping for dinner, "Oh yes, I'm looking forward to it". She was so smart, so precocious, so pretty and friendly. I looked at her as she sucked her thumb when we arrived in D.C., standing by the Washington Monument, getting ready to go to the rally, and she said, "I suck my thumb", and I said, "I did too, until I was 8, but you're 9, aren't you? The dentist told me I'd have buck teeth if I didn't stop, so I stopped.", and she said, "I have to get braces anyway." She was my new best friend. She said she was already sad about leaving and we'd only just arrived, because she made a new friend, not me, but a girl from Pakistan, and she is sad they won't get to see each other again. I suggested they write letters. We were to arrive at the train station for the buses at 8:30 on Friday night, not knowing that the buses wouldn't arrive until 10:30. It was a trick, a ploy to get us there on time. Of course when we arrived the parking lot was full. "LOT FULL" flashing, mocking us. Where the fuck do we leave our cars? I drove to two different train stations looking for overnight parking, found none, and after driving around in the early evening heat, sweating already, I returned and the "LOT FULL" light was off. Harrummmph. I got a spot, but then it was hurry up and wait. In the back parking lot, this huge contingent of our city's Muslim population, and all their children, running around, signs being made, coolers propped open, containing juices, water, food, snacks, lollipops for the kids, people sitting around eating their dinners from styrofoam containers, and our group from the action center, lots of smoking of cigarettes - finally a TV crew (one guy with a video camera and an SUV) to film us as we gathered signs and stood for the camera, Dianne being interviewed. The buses finally arrived around 10:30, left at 11:15. We had to wait at the last minute as one last person said he couldn't find a place to leave his car. Tap, tap, tap, tap, can we GO already? We were so late. Then we're told there are 18 seats on one the buses, vacancies, if you want to move, go now, and several women gathered their things, came right back, said, "That's the man bus". The Muslims travel segregated, I suppose. It was surreal, all of it, and being late threw us all off, prevented us from stopping for breakfast, Dianne saying that if this group stopped it would take two hours, at least, just to get everyone back on the buses. We weren't used to joining up with another group. Not that it wasn't great to have so many people who wanted to protest, who wanted to go to D.C., with their children!, but it's hard to get everyone on the same wavelength, and our driver was cranky having to coordinate with these other drivers, etc. I'm glad to be home. I still wish I'd thought a bit more before speaking to that reporter on the phone. I have something else to add. I was hesitant to say it, I'm kind of paranoid that someone from the local action center is going to find this diary and read what I've written about the trip, but Friday night I think Skipper had been drinking. He even told me he'd brought some vodka... in case he couldn't get to sleep, you know. Right. But he stood up in front of his seat, one up from mine at the front of the bus, to tell everyone about his upcoming rally in September, to pass out flyers, and the dude had a half boner in his shorts! I couldn't believe it. I kept looking to be sure of what I was seeing and I was, he was flying at half mast in his cargo shorts, and he was just standing up telling people he was going to be passing out this flyer. He was standing in front of his seat so no doubt I'm the only one who saw it, but I kept thinking, "HUH?! WHA.....??? WHY?!", and I could only think... Viagra? Come on, he's not a young guy. We're talking 50s, maybe 60s, I'm not sure, but what precipitated that? Did he have to pee? It was freaky. So then when he comes over to the seat in front of mine and is asking me how I feel about the Israel/Palestine situation and why don't I believe Sharon is a heinous murdering pig?, well, all I can think is that I just saw his schlong poking through his fucking shorts and is it still doing that? Then I blamed it on the alcohol, because he was really different throughout the day yesterday, just fun, not as flirtatious, no visible boners! I think I'm going to take a shower now. And I'm beginning to feel that I could sleep, but I worry that if I do that now I won't sleep tonight and I'll be tired tomorrow at work, blah, blah, blah, which makes me think of that picture in the paper and omigod, who is going to see that? Relax. I'm good. I just wish I'd said something really wonderful and smart, so that people would be sitting around their breakfast tables right about now, with coffee and croissants, or eggs and bacon or whatever, reading, saying, "Oh yeah, I'm with this chick, she's got it going on, she's saying exactly what I'm thinking, honey, we should've gone too!!!" But nooooooo! Ugh. I felt so stupid after I handed the photographer back his groovy cell phone, thinking, huh huh, huh huh, I just talked on a cell phone, all Beavis and Butthead like, and what the fuck did I say to that guy?! I told Dianne when I saw her on the corner, "I got interviewed and they took our picture and I am SO embarrassed!", but she just smiled, cheering on all the passersby in our huge parade of a March. Have I left anything out? Let's see, the boner, the Muslims, the prayer stop, the little girl behind me, oh, I forgot to add that yesterday morning she was singing the commercial jingle for Afro Sheen, and then the "Soul Train" song! So when she sat next to me, crocheting her little round whatever it was, and we talked and talked and I love kids, I really do, I told her I heard her singing her song, and that when I was her age I watched "Soul Train" too, or maybe I was 11 or 12, but I watched, and I remember Don Cornelius and "The Sooooooooooooouuuul Train" shout that he used to do, and how we used to do it too, white kids in the suburbs, watching the black kids dance down the center, cheered on, because they were cooler, and danced WAY better than the idiots on "American Bandstand", and the music was better. And here is this little precocious 9 year old from Tuskeegee singing the Afro Sheen song. We had fun. If I think of anything I left out, I'll be back. Cost of the War in Iraq
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