One guy had a sign that said "Jon Stewart was my idea." Some people had t-shirts with George Bush saying into a talky bubble "I did it, but thanks for blaming it on the black guy." There was also a Viking long ship the length of a bus on-hand, manned by dancers in horns.
For twenty bucks on Saturday, I got a Chinatown bus smelling like an old-school subway to Washington DC. Most of the people sharing this stank-on-wheels were going to the rally too. Traffic and the popularity of procrastination had it so that I and what seemed like a million other people got to the American capital about an hour after Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert had already begun the March to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.
The crowd was so chock-a-block that it was literally impossible to make it close enough to the stage to see, let alone hear any of the shenanigans up there.
The rally was all about the crowd for me. I had no choice but to be endlessly entertained by tens of millions of characters everywhere you looked.
I tried like a lot of us to make it through. I'm adept as anyone from New York at working my way through crowds by inching forward through little gaps pedestrians make when crushed together. I can't say I didn't bump anyone, or that I was left unmolested, but all such infractions were laughed-off by people just being cool with each other.
I made my way half-way into the middle of the thickest crowd before I was able to face facts and realize I had just sat for 6 hours in a urinal to find myself stuck in a sea of humanity on some damn street named for a letter without the slightest chance of getting near the stage. It was great.
At some point this week I'll watch the broadcast of the rally, and find out what I went there for.
The Irish pub that became home base for 9/11 ground zero rescuers