That time I was in DC for 10 hours (The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear)

I slept in my own bed for four nights before I got the urge to skip town again. Lucky for me, the two funniest men in politics decided it was about time to rally the troops for a cause. Though I am usually hesitant to hop on a bus (motion sickness sucks), the 14 hour ride was worth it. I had help overcoming the usual stomach acrobats with healthy doses of generic Dramamine. We left Friday night at 6ish from Chicago, and woke up in the nation's capitol around 10 a.m. Becoming a part of the herd, Andrew (who spontaneously decided to join me with just the clothes on his back and his requisite backpack) and I walked to the mall. It was like a Rally dream. Code Pink was there, superheroes combed to field for trouble, and novice and seasoned rally goers carried the best signs I've ever seen or could imagine at any rally. Two of the best were "God Hates Crabs" and "Baconayse and McRib 2012." I wish I would have thought ahead and designed a clever sign. Next time I'll be prepared.

The last time I was on the national mall was a quiet summer day a couple years ago. But this time was anything but serene. Quiet is the last adjective anyone could use to describe the scene that day, unless you were being satirical, and with this crowd, it might have just worked. While I never got to see my nerd crush Stephen Colbert on stage, I was lifted above the thousands of people a couple of times to get a glimpse of him on the jumbotron. I have never been in a crowd that massive before. I couldn't see the end of it, even when I did get hover a couple feet over the masses. I'm sure by now you've read all about the rally itinerary, but I just wanted to share a couple of my favorite parts.

First, Roots. Then, before Colbert and Stewart even took stage, I knew I made the right decision to come to the rally when Mythbusters Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman used us as guinea pigs for seismic experiments. I really wish that show was shot in front of a live audience, but explosions probably don’t work all that well in a studio. During the main event, my favorite, besides the poignant speech Stewart made at the end, was the train song battle. And yes, Yusuf Islam, Ozzy Osbourne and the O'Jays were all live and in person performing their songs "Peace Train" "Crazy Train" and finally "Love Train." Who wouldn't want to get on the love train? I can’t think of a more appropriate and fitting compromise song. Then there were the medals. The best? Anderson Cooper's black T-Shirt winning Colberts Medal of Fear, and a 7-year-old girl (who has more courage than the award winners) accepting for the media outlets. Stewarts best? The award of reasonableness to Velma Hart. After all the cheering, laughing and satirical awesomeness, Stewart's speech wrapped up the rally. Here are a few excerpts I found on Wikipedia (which I know could have been altered by Colbert fans, like the elephant site, but I'm trusting it. I feel like this is in fact what I heard that Saturday and rings true for me):

This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith, or people of activism, or look down our noses at the heartland, or passionate argument, or to suggest that times are not difficult and that we have nothing to fear. They are, and we do.

But we live now in hard times, not end times. And we can have animus, and not be enemies. But unfortunately, one of our main tools in delineating the two broke. The country’s 24-hour politico–pundit' perpetual panic "conflictinator" did not cause our problems, but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying glass up to our problems, bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen. Or they can use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire, and then perhaps host a week of shows on the "dangerous, unexpected flaming-ants epidemic!" If we amplify everything, we hear nothing.

There are terrorists, and racists, and Stalinists, and theocrats, but those are titles that must be earned! You must have the résumé! Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Party-ers, or real bigots and Juan Williams or Rick Sanchez is an insult – not only to those people, but to the racists themselves, who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate. Just as the inability to distinguish terrorists from Muslims makes us less safe, not more.

Americans don’t live here or on cable TV. Where we live, our values and principles form the foundation that sustains us while we get things done – not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done. Most Americans don’t live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do. Often something they do not want to do. But they do it. Impossible things, every day, that are only made possible through the little, reasonable compromises we all make.

We know, instinctively, as a people, that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light, we have to work together. And the truth is, there will always be darkness. And sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t the Promised Land. Sometimes, it’s just New Jersey.

Unfortunately, even with this speech and rally, the election went wayward. All I hope is that people can work together for the greater good, and that politicians don't lose site of the golden rule. It's really the only one that matters, and sadly, I think it's one that politicians most overlook. In reality, here in my life, I'll just keep trying to be optimistic, cautiously, while supporting causes that I think are striving to make this world a better place.

Blood sausage is not vegetarian (neither is the risotto)

I finally posted the second half of my Seattle photos on Facebook, and figured I should probably write a bit about the rest of my trip too. So, let's see how much I can remember about the second half of Seattle three weeks later.

I'm going to start with the Sci-Fi Museum. While on its own merit it is a marvelous hub for nerds of all kind, and has collections even a person with nerd-like tendencies could enjoy, I contend it would have been made a million times better with my extremely nerdy, and oh so loveable friends back home in the Midwest. Watching them geek out over the robots like R2-D2, aliens like ET, famous/infamous spaceships and spacesuits would have been priceless. Taking into account my life aspirations being inspired by the leading women in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and The Adventures of Superman, and my sci-fi loving friends, I should have been less surprised by how much I related to and recognized in the museum. It rocked.

The Sci-Fi Museum ticket is a two for one with the Experience Music Project. The history of the guitar greets museum goers as the first exhibit, and a large multi color tornado outside the Jimi Hendrix room dwarfs anything in its path, almost as much as Hendrix blew away his audiences when he performed. Music always has a way of bringing me back to a place and time in my own history, but the museum has of showing how music shaped and reflected the moods of the nation as a whole that I loved.

I didn't go to the top of the needle. The top of the Columbia Center has a better view for less, and you get to see the Space Needle from above. It's like going for drinks at the Signature Lounge in the Hancock instead of the viewing lounge Sears Tower. Overall a better decision, although I have yet to go to the Sears since the section with the glass bottom was installed. I went to the Columbia Center with one of my hostel mates from Switzerland. We hung out for the last few days of my Seattle adventure.

I have a thing about drinking alone, I don't do it, just like I don't drink and drive. So, when they announced a pub crawl I convinced my new Swiss friend to join me and we trekked with the dozens of other hostellers to a few of Seattle's fine drinking establishments. We made it to Linda's, the last place Kurt Cobain was seen, and then the Comet, where bands like the Sound Garden got started (and where that night, a talented rapper whose name I can't remember, but is bound for greatness, took the mic) and we ended the night at the Cha Cha, a luchalibre (Mexican Wrestling) theme restaurant. It was already decorated for Day of the Dead. I'm still kicking myself for leaving Mexico before being able to experience Dia de los Muertos.

The next few day, my new Swiss friend and I learned never to order noir boudin, especially if you're vegetarian. After that mistake in the cafe whose decor and smells nearly transported us to France, I asked the server at Italian restaurant later that night about the Risotto I had been salivating over all day. This restaurant was part of Seattle's Restaurant week, which meant that I could enjoy a three course meal at a four star restaurant for $25. I was lucky enough to get a taste of high class dining this summer during Madison's restaurant week, and was excited to have discovered it in Seattle. So, back to the risotto. It was made with chicken stock. Dumb vegetarian rules I made up. They made me a main dish sans meat. It, and the tiramisu, were the perfect dishes for my last night in Seattle. After dinner we meandered back to Oliver's, the bar where the chocolate tour began. I had to try the Flatliner again, this time a full martini glass worth. It. was. amazing. And only made better by the crazy Chicagoan we met at the bar, and the insane sports conversation I miraculously was able to participate in because I could recall some sports info my cubs fan family members recite on a regular basis. Mostly that people from Chicago are used to disappointment. There was even hockey talk. Switzerland is big into hickey I guess, there team beat the Blackhawks last year. Leana was still psyched about that. I just thought it was great that on my last day of being away from home I ran into someone from Chicago. If I was the kind of person who believed in signs, I would say it was a sign that I was ready to go home. For now.