Incredible

Yesterday, I had the remarkable privilege of joining my dear friend Cyd and thousands upon thousands of others in Washington D.C., for the Women’s March, to share our concerns/anger (I won’t say fears because fuck that noise) about the new administration.

Our entire day went incredibly well. Cyd had to meet some photo subjects by 1pm, so that was the only deadline of sorts we had. However, we knew a lot of people would also be heading into D.C., which could make travel slow. We left Cyd’s Boston home at 5:30am, got to the airport with no trouble, got through security with no trouble, and sat with our mochas, relaxing while others filed in. The gate started filling up with women wearing pink pussy hats and carrying protest signs, so it was clear we were all headed in the same direction for the same reason. Eventually, the airline attendant came over the loudspeaker and said, “I’ve worked here for five years and I’ve never seen anything like this before. We have a full flight, but only one checked bag.” Everyone started whooping it up, acknowledging that we were, in fact, mostly protesters heading to D.C. with a minimum of stuff since you couldn’t take much into the rally.

Flight was uneventful and when we arrived, we went straight to the taxi area expecting a line. Instead there were only two women ahead of us, and they asked if we wanted to share a cab to the Greenbelt metro station. We agreed. The cabbie was an aggressive driver, weaving in and out of a traffic, and we were glad because it kept us moving to our destination. When we got to the metro station, it was total chaos. Hundreds of people going in different directions, carrying signs, wearing their pink caps. The police wouldn’t even let our driver turn toward the metro. He pulled over and as Cyd paid for the trip and worked things out for splitting the tab with the other women, I got out of the car to get some fresh air. Our cabbie kept the car a bit warm for my liking, so I was happy to step out when he stopped. However, as Cyd was dealing with the money, a woman came over to the cab–hoping to take it, I believe–and explained there was a two-hour wait to get through the metro. Hearing this news, Cyd asked the driver if he could continue on to D.C. He said no problem.

We planned to have our cab stop here at this metro line but when we learned it was bananas, we asked him to keep going.

We were a bit delighted with the fact that we had the option to avoid the metro all together. We thought that would be faster than driving in, but it was clearly a mess. The driver told us he would get us as close to Enfant Plaza as he could, but that some roads may be closed because of the protest. We told him if he could get us within two or three miles, we’d be willing to walk the rest. We cruised toward D.C., surprised at the lack of traffic. When we got to the exit for Enfant Plaza, I noticed traffic was backed up and I thought our cabbie was going to go past it. Instead, just as he started going toward the exit, a D.C. cop pulled up with his lights and sirens on, and blocked the exit. He got out and indicated no one else could get off there. It was astonishing. It happened right in front of us and our cab was already pulled over toward the exit. So we all said, Let’s get out here! And we opened the door and ran across the exit. Cydney stayed behind (again) to pay the cab while I stood next to the exit waiting for her. Others started jumping out of cars and crossing over the exit, too. It was really the only option if you didn’t want to go past the exit. The officer kept yelling at our cab to get moving. He came over and yelled at me to keep walking. I slowly shuffled my feet, trying not to get too far from Cyd. Eventually, she joined me (after the officer yelled at the cabbie once more) and the driver sped off, probably happy to get out of the fray.

Running across the exit to get to the plaza after the police shut the exit down.

From there, we headed in the direction of the rally, absolutely thrilled we had made it with such ease. I mean, we were exactly where we needed to be and it was only 10:20am or so. (Did I mention that even our plane arrived early in Baltimore! Like, 40 minutes early. That never happens.) We didn’t really have any plans to try to see the speakers at the rally because we knew it would be too difficult to get to, and we had a specific place we needed to be at by 1pm, so we wanted to be cautious. We came across an obscenely long line for Starbucks and decided to join it because we both needed something hot to drink. We were in that line for over an hour. It was absurd yet oddly necessary. And the only arguing we saw all day happened when some people thought others were cutting in line at Starbucks.

Waiting in line at Starbucks. This was the longest line we dealt with. It was absurd.

After Starbucks, we wandered around, took pictures, listened to speakers as best we could from the Jumbotron (which means we couldn’t hear much). The number of people bowled me over…just so, so, so many people.

Eventually we decided to wander over to the meeting place for Cydney’s photo subjects. It took awhile to get there and we saw the lines for the portapotties were obscenely long. (My bladder was a real trooper during the event. I was quite thankful, especially after drinking a 16oz chai latte. No portapotties for me. For either of us, actually. TMI?)

Cydney was eventually able to connect with her subjects and direct them to the meeting place. They were a great threesome who work at the college where Cyd works. Once we got together, we saw a group of drummers heading toward (what we thought was) the parade route, so we got in line behind them as did everyone else around us. Eventually we reached a point where no one was moving. I have to say all of this part of the adventure was a bit chaotic with all of us standing around, smushed together like sardines and waiting to march. We eventually heard a rumor that the march had been canceled because there were too many people for the organizers to lead. The large group of people we were with kept moving forward and moving forward (and Cyd got some shots of her people) and eventually we reached a point that became so gridlocked, we knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, and it was so tight, Cydney couldn’t even turn around to take pictures of her people. We decided to let them go their own way, and we went in the other direction to get away from the crowd. Cydney asked, “What do you want to do?” It was clear the area we were in was not going to be moving anytime soon, but I didn’t want to leave the march. “The only thing I want to do is march,” I said. “I don’t care how we do it, my only goal is to march.” Cyd said, “Okay, why don’t we go down here (under the bridge where we had been standing) and see if we can cut over and meet up with march in another place.” That’s what we did and it was a brilliant idea. We were eventually able to make it over to Constitution Ave. and join the march and from there we walked to the White House.

We had to find our own path to the march because the route was so clogged. This was the alternate route we took to meet up with the march in a different spot.

It was such an incredible experience and it felt incredible while we were participating. There were so many clever, funny, angry signs and it’s good to know all of these people and others throughout the country are as concerned as we are, and will be watching this administration as closely as we’ll be watching. Cyd and I ended the evening with a fantastic dinner at Founding Farmers (I had a cauliflower steak!) and then took a Uber back to Baltimore, where our hotel was located.

It was a historic day (the news reports it was the largest protest march in U.S. history) and I am so glad to have been there with a good friend and surrounded by amazing energy.