I was in Freedom Square this morning before 8:00 AM. As I wandered the streets I ran into a group of women from Code Pink. They had driven twenty three hours straight-through all the way from East Texas. In the square we met another man named Dietrich who had flown in from California. Dietrich was a house on fir; he was a man who knew what he was about and he wasn’t shy about sharing with all who would listen.
As we spoke together in the square total strangers wandered up to us. We could tell by their baggage what they were about. They were all greeted with smiles and the obligatory questions of where are you from and how did you get here? A disabled veteran, a policeman, grandmothers and grandsons, they are young and not so young and they are in the streets and they are excited and energized.
Several times I found myself in conversations with total strangers and we were friends instantly. There is a oneness of purpose and thought, they are like me, socialists, and they are Ron Paul supporters, they are regular people and they have never been the guest on a Sunday talk shows, but they have come to the Nation’s Capital in large numbers to make themselves heard by their government. There is an air of optimism and electric excitement in the streets. The hostel has filled up with protestors and today is the day.
The mood in the plaza is electric and upbeat in contrast to a city which abhors straight lines. The protestors smile and cheer as the city stoically ignores them. This is a jaded city, a city of cops and security planters. So far the police have been very helpful and cooperative this is just another day at the office for them.
I believe that it is safe to say there is one cop in Washington for every public urinal. The Capitol of the land of the free has a massive security apparatus. The apparatus operates through a subliminal intimidation presence, while they smile at you and introduce themselves, you know that at a moment’s notice on orders from the boss, they will drag you away to never never land and never have a concern about it either way.
This is a strange place, a city like any other city, but it is also a city of jargon and of buzz words. Fakers, takers, affable and laughable, somber men in dark suits with frozen Secret Service stone faces. It is a city of the voluntarily invisible; they who don’t want to know and who don’t want to see.
Our message is for America and it is wasted on Washington. Washington rolls on wheels of money and rolls right over the salt of the Earth. We are in Washington but not of Washington. The people will hear us, our message resonates with them from sea to shining sea but in Washington D.C. it is just another day in the exercise wheel.
David Glenn Cox is a senior staff writer for TLR and currently in Washington D.C. taking part in and reporting on the protest