Planes to Maine

2:42 a.m.

I am trying to stay awake all night so that I will sleep on the plane rides to Maine today. The first of which leaves in three hours. There are three flights total to get me to Portland today. Yes, I will be making my way from Indiana to Atlanta, to Washington D.C., to Portland, Maine all within eight hours. Awesome. That includes a three hour (lots of threes today) layover in Atlanta, so if anyone is in the area and wants to hang out...I'll be in the terminal. No, I don't know which one. So is anybody working on a teleportation device or what? Isn't this the future already?

2:49 a.m. Almost there.

Angel Statue

London, England
2006

Should Be Getting That Hogwarts Owl Any Day Now...

The other day my sister and I were bored so we set up our old trampoline on our parent's driveway. Then we had the divine inspiration to get a broom and take the sweetest pictures EVER.

Hill-ARY! Hill-ARY! Or, Why I Have That Crazed Look On My Face

So everyone knows that this year’s race for president is the coolest one in history. Even cooler for us Hoosiers is the fact that for the first time since fish sprouted legs and Gorak Giant-Frontal Lobe was elected First Biped of the cave people, our vote in the primaries actually has weight. I resolved to see each candidate in person when they came to Indy, not only to get a feel for what they are all about, and not only because Obama is hot, but because I am old enough to appreciate what a big deal this year is. I was especially looking forward to seeing Hillary Clinton because I’ve felt a special affinity for her ever since I found out we have the same birthday. (In fact, when I was in 7th grade computer class we had to type a paragraph about who our idol was, and I wrote, “I don’t have an idol but I like first lady Hillary Clinton because we have the same birthday, October 26th”)

As it would happen, I found out Hillary would be making her first visit to Indianapolis the day after I left for my spring break in California. What the heck! I was so disappointed. I thought I had missed my only chance to see her, so imagine my excitement when I checked my email two days after returning and had a message from a friend informing me that Hillary was in Fort Wayne, Indiana AT THAT VERY MINUTE and would be giving a speech in Muncie that evening! Muncie, where I went to Ball State University, was only forty minutes away. I had planned to go to the gym that day, but seeing Hillary instantly took priority. Also, sometimes I just don’t want to go to the gym and actively seek out a good excuse to put it off. And here a really valid and historical one had fallen into my lap! Fate.

At 5:30 that evening, my friend Amy and I were standing in a long line outside Muncie Central High School. It was bitter cold and worse, we were standing in the shade. Inexplicably, neither Amy nor I had brought jackets or even proper sweaters (and by “neither Amy nor I” I mean just “I” neglected to dress properly). I was in my short sleeved Hillary shirt, (picture of Hillary with the caption, A Woman’s Place is in the House) and a cardigan. I can only offer the fact that I had just come from southern California weather as an explanation for this stupid, stupid choice of dress. They weren’t going to let people in the building until 6:45, so we took turns running into the sunlight for the next TWO HOURS, since everyone had to go through airport style security before entering the building, it took forever. My toes felt like angry little blocks of stone, and I was sure they had frostbite. But I knew it would be okay, because I would just go to all the news stations and they would eat that story up. GIRL GETS FROSTBITE FOR HILLARY. Then the government would pay for my new toes and I’d probably get a visit from Hillary, and Bill even.

Finally, we got inside, where the rally was being held in the high school gym. The bleachers were pulled out for everyone to sit on, and there was a platform in the middle of the room surrounded by special reserved chairs, for the press and who knows. Amy and I managed to squeeze into the front row of bleachers, right in front of a giant speaker playing Rascal Flatts. This was noisy, but had a major benefit. There was a giant cable running out of the speaker and taped to the floor, but almost nobody noticed it while they walked to the bleachers and tons of people tripped, which was awesome to watch (no one was hurt so…I can laugh. But I laughed on the inside since the people were right in front of me).

Then a man came up to me and Amy and said, “There two of you?” We said “Yes…” He said, “Just two? Come with me.” And we followed him as he led us right to the chairs surrounding the platforms, where there were two empty seats in the second row. “Right there,” he pointed, and we sat down just feet from where Hillary would be. He offered no explanation for our relocation, and we didn’t ask.

At 9:00pm, Hillary arrived, having come straight from Fort Wayne. She is really pretty in person and has a great smile, which I feel like doesn’t come across so much on TV. She was so cute! She took the stage and went over her campaign points, her ideas, and her plans for implementing change should she be elected president. Once she was done, she stepped down to shake hands and take pictures with people. There were metal barriers around the platform, with her on one side and all of us on the other. Amy and I quickly stepped forward and made our way right to the barriers before everyone packed in. As Hillary worked her way around and closer towards us, people became increasingly fanatical and annoying, especially the girl to my left.

She stood with her elbows spread across the barriers, taking up enough space for three people.

“I’ve been here since NOON.” She told me, unasked. “I- well, me and the other volunteers- set this all up.”

“That’s nice” I replied.

“I am going to get my book signed. I am staying here until I get it signed! I’ve waited all day!” She laughed threateningly.

I felt a jab in my side. I looked down and an old woman was slowly elbowing her way to the front, trying to push me out of the front spot. She probably thought that, because she was old, I would kindly let her pass. Of course not. I planted my feet and made like a tree, refusing to budge. Did she not understand frontsies? Amy and I got her first, plus I was wearing my special Hillary shirt, plus, bite me, old lady. My sympathy froze along with my toes a few hours ago.

Hillary inched closer.

A woman to my left waved a blue CD in the air. “Do you think you can give this to Hillary?!” She yelled to no one in particular. Then she turned to me. “Do you think they’ll give this to her?”

I assumed she meant Hillary’s bodyguards, who were also making rounds, and I also assumed that no, they would not give Hillary your mix CD. But I just shrugged and turned away because to my other side, a mother was trying to push her kid to the front of the gates, as in WHERE I WAS STANDING.

“Is there room for him up there?” She tried to smile sweetly when she caught my glare. I knew what she was really asking was, “Will you move so my child can stand at the front and then I can worm my way in beside him?”

I said, “No, sorry! There’s no room!” And smiled back.

Then all of a sudden Hillary was inches away from us.

Everyone was yelling, “HILLARY! HILLARY!” followed by their own personal request for her.

“HILLARY WILL YOU SIGN THIS!”

“HILLARY WILL YOU TAKE A PICTURE WITH ME!”

“HILLARY I MADE A CD FOR YOU!”

A few of Hillary’s bodyguards/handlers/assistants were kindly offering to take people’s cameras before she approached and try to get you a photo with her. “Do you need me to take your picture?” An assistant/handler asked us, and Amy handed him my camera. Part of me was hesitant to ask Hillary for a photo or even to sign anything, because I could see how intense all these people were, just screaming and throwing papers, books, and pins in her direction. But then, I was wearing my Hillary shirt so I thought, maybe I will ask her to sign it. That would be neat.

Annoying girl next to me thrust her camera out to one of the bodyguards/assistants/handlers milling around on the other side of the barriers.

“WILL YOU TAKE A PICTURE OF ME AND HILLARY?” She SCREAMED. “HILLARY WILL YOU TAKE A PICTURE WITH ME HILLARY WILL YOU SIGN THIS HILLARY I AM A STUDENT AT BALL STATE UNIVERSITY AND WE WERE HERE SINCE THIS MORNING SETTING EVERYTHING UP AND I KNOW DAN WILLIAMS* HE WORKS WITH YOOOOOOU!!”

(*not his real name)

Oh my god, this is the most annoying girl ever, I thought. I did one of those passive aggressive mean faces, where you grimace at how annoying someone around you is but not to their face because of course you don’t want them to see it. I stared ahead with my jaw clenched in a fake smile which meant, Oh my god this girl next to me is the most annoying girl ever!

“Oh, Dan!” Hillary took Annoying Girl’s book and signed it. “He’s right over here, let me get him!” She posed for the photo and waved Dan over, smoothly deflecting Annoying Girl off to him. He physically blocked Annoying Girl from Hillary and made conversation about Ball State and politics while Hillary stood in front of my general area.

I took a breath, about to say something to Hillary, when out of nowhere a little girl perched atop her mother’s shoulders came barreling up behind me.

“Now!” Her mother hissed.

“Hillawy, will you sign my shirt?” The little girl asked, as people ‘awww’-ed.

“Sure, sweetie, if you can make it up here!” Hillary replied. I HAD TO SCOOT ASIDE TO LET HER THROUGH.

THE LITTLE BITCH! I thought, seething. She stole my question! I am going to look like such a tool if I ask now. And she’s taken my spot!

Hillary scribbled her signature on the girl’s sleeve and moved down the barricades. I squeezed back in, between Annoying Girl and two guys who were also volunteers. Hillary was in front of them, still close enough for me to talk to her. Then-

“HEY NICK! NICK!” Annoying girl leaned forward and the boy on my other side glanced over his shoulder.

“NICK, CAN YOU ASK HER TO SIGN THIS? I FORGOT TO ASK HER!” Annoying Girl waved a sticker. A look of revulsion passed over Nick’s face.

“I- no- not right now-“

Hillary was right in front of him, talking with his friend, and Annoying Girl was totally stealing his moment.

“WHY NOT?? WHAT, DO YOU NEED HER TO SIGN SOMETHING?”

“You already had her sign something!” Nick hissed.

“I KNOW, BUT I FORGOT THIS STICKER! I FORGOT TO ASK HER!” Nick ignored her completely.

“Darn it!” She muttered. Then she CLIMBED ONTO THE METAL BARRICADES, stuck her sticker out, and screamed, “Hill-ARY! Hill-ARY!! I HAVE A QUESTION, Hill-ARY!”

A bodyguard walked up to her and said “GET. DOWN.” This time I laughed on the outside. I wanted to high-five him but didn’t think he’d go for it.

Annoying Girl giggled sheepishly. She looked behind her at the crowd of people. “Gosh, I’ll never make it out of this spot!” She warned.

I glanced over. “Sure you can! I see an open space there! Just push!”

She hesitated. “Oh, well…I have to wait for them.” She pointed to Nick and the other volunteer, who were currently having their picture taken with Hillary.

“I’m sure they won’t mind!” Amy and I said in unison.

I looked up in time to see Hillary give a final wave and disappear behind a black curtain. The assistant/handler handed my camera back with an apologetic shrug. “I took one but…” he trailed off and I assumed his unspoken words were along the lines of “…but I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to pose with her.” I thanked him anyway and Amy and I made our way out of the gym, stealing Hillary pins off the floor along the way.

That night when I got home, I was showing my sister Megan my pictures when we came across one of Hillary signing someone’s book. I didn’t remember taking it, then -“Hey that’s me! Wait a minute- OH.MY.GOD.”

I suppose it was divine timing. That the assistant took the photo at the very moment that I was doing my passive-aggressive stare of disbelief regarding Annoying Girl and her annoyingness, and that the direction of my gaze is such that I am staring right at Hillary. So that I look like I am both in love with her and about to attack her.

If there is a moral of the story I guess it would be…don’t be passive aggressive, it just makes you (me) look stupid, and it is annoying, which means you are becoming the very source which has caused your passive aggressive behavior in the first place. And you don’t know, someone might be capturing your very moment of passive aggressiveness on film (or, digitally) and there just might be a hugely famous presidential candidate in your line of sight. Think about it. Oh, and don't forget to vote!

Ouchy Hot.

Soooo I decided to go rollerblading (or, bladin' as I like to think of it) because it seemed like the perfect exercise- a great workout and also slightly lazy, since the wheels could roll me along if I got tired. The only problem was that the back wheel on my right blade (and by my rollerblades of course I mean my sister's) was falling out. It was missing a screw to hold it in place. No big deal, I thought, I'll just find another screw and replace it. Except I couldn't find a matching screw. I tried sticking random screws in there but nothing held. Then I realized- I can totally blade on three wheels! Four on the left, three on the right- hey, seven lucky wheels! So I tossed the wheel (sorry, Lauren) and bladed into the hot Indiana yellowy haze known as sunshine. 

And it did work, like magic! At first. 

About a mile away from home, my right leg started wobbling and stuttering. My ankle turned this way and that, dangerously, threatening to sprain. I bladed up to a street sign for balance and inspected right blade. Somewhere along the pebbly, potholed street wheel number three had been ripped to shreds. Chunks of plastic were missing, and it was no longer a wheel so much as gristle hanging from a bone. I turned and tried bladin' back on it, but knew I would crack my ankle in half if I did.

What else could I do? I pulled the blades off and walked the mile home, barefoot, over toasty hot granite, lugging the blades with me. I thought, 'If I were a hobbit this would not be so painful' and then I realized my feet would probably be pretty hobbit-esque by the end of the day which made me wonder if hobbits were born with tough feet or if they acquired them through years of walking over rough terrain with no shoes. 

Okay and this next part is going to sound so cheesy but I really did think it. I thought about an article I read a few months ago about women in the Democratic Republic of the Congo- it was actually the first thing I read about the DRC and the situation there.

It talked about how women would go through physical violence, abuse, and then walk miles and miles, days and days sometimes, to get to a hospital called the Panzi Hospital. It just put things into perspective for me before I got too whiny in my head, as I was threatening to do, about my feet and oowwww they huuurt, it's so hotttt and blah blah blah where's my driver?

I arrived home sporting giant silver dollar blisters all over the soles of my feet, which have swelled and bubbled exponentially since the afternoon. I've figured if I walk mostly on my heels with my toes off the ground, this is least painful, also less risk of (gross gross gross) putting too much weight on the blisters and popping them mid step (grooooooooosssssssss!!! and also kinda awesome, in a gross way). 

Anyway, that's my story. And it does relate to the Congo, so there.  

Sending Healing Vibes...

Plane Crashes in Congo

A Name and a Face

So I got my sweet packet from Women for Women International with a photo and bio of the woman I'm sponsoring! She lives in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, is twenty-six years old, and has three children. I'm off to write her a letter and print some pictures of life in the USA to send her way! Thanks again for all the support!