Affinity group

I haven't posted anything here about going to Washington for the Counter-Inaugural, first because I was too tired (you would be too, if you got up at 3 a.m. and spent hours and hours on your feet in the cold) and then because there was too much to jot down quickly.

"Affinity group" is the DC police term for a group of 25 or fewer people, who don't need a permit for a march or rally. (At 26, you do.) We rode down on buses chartered by a very loosely organized group, went to Dupont Circle to find Mary Kay, discovered that Jon was nearby and homed in by cell phone, and then got back on the Metro to go to the parade route.

There were large groups marching from the circle to the inaugural route, but one was a catch-all leftist march that seemed more focused on Mumia abu-Jamal than on the stolen election, and the other was the Green Party. We didn't want to march with either of them.

Our affinity group was seven people, all sf fans and all friends. The term fit. We planned by loose discussion--nobody had strong opinions about where we should demonstrate, so we didn't argue so much as wait for someone to say "we could cross the street here"--and shared assorted food around. Nuts, cheese, fruit, hamburgers and fries, water, plenty of each.

Teresa made a sign that said "We will not get over it" and we wound up standing, with that and an American flag, about one layer of people back, near a high school band with a sense of humor. They played things like "Rubber Ducky" and the "Sesame Street" theme song. There were Bush supporters near us: anywhere except the official demonstration area and the tickets-required spaces, we and they were pretty well mixed, with the occasional tourist. (It was cold and rainy, and I assume most of the tourists were at the Smithsonian.) We even chatted with them a little: Teresa wondered what saxophonists do in the rain, and it turned out one of them was a sax player, and happy to tell us. And I stood there and laughed silently when one of their friends came over and explained that she'd been down the street but the anti-Bush protesters had made her nervous. Then again, I didn't see that group of protestors: maybe some of our allies were the sort to make her nervous.

Or maybe it was that she was alone: back on the bus, someone told me that she'd been uncomfortable in a crowd of Bush supporters with only one friend to keep her company.

Over and over, I was very glad that I was with friends, and understood why Mary Kay had urged us to come meet her at Dupont Circle instead of going directly to the parade route. Some of that was simple companionship: it was a long day, consisting mostly of waiting, and it's good to have company for things like that. But it was also good to have someone to lend me a glove, someone to peel a clementine for, people I knew and knew I could trust.

Affinity group

I haven't posted anything here about going to Washington for the Counter-Inaugural, first because I was too tired (you would be too, if you got up at 3 a.m. and spent hours and hours on your feet in the cold) and then because there was too much to jot down quickly.

"Affinity group" is the DC police term for a group of 25 or fewer people, who don't need a permit for a march or rally. (At 26, you do.) We rode down on buses chartered by a very loosely organized group, went to Dupont Circle to find Mary Kay, discovered that Jon was nearby and homed in by cell phone, and then got back on the Metro to go to the parade route.

There were large groups marching from the circle to the inaugural route, but one was a catch-all leftist march that seemed more focused on Mumia abu-Jamal than on the stolen election, and the other was the Green Party. We didn't want to march with either of them.

Our affinity group was seven people, all sf fans and all friends. The term fit. We planned by loose discussion--nobody had strong opinions about where we should demonstrate, so we didn't argue so much as wait for someone to say "we could cross the street here"--and shared assorted food around. Nuts, cheese, fruit, hamburgers and fries, water, plenty of each.

Teresa made a sign that said "We will not get over it" and we wound up standing, with that and an American flag, about one layer of people back, near a high school band with a sense of humor. They played things like "Rubber Ducky" and the "Sesame Street" theme song. There were Bush supporters near us: anywhere except the official demonstration area and the tickets-required spaces, we and they were pretty well mixed, with the occasional tourist. (It was cold and rainy, and I assume most of the tourists were at the Smithsonian.) We even chatted with them a little: Teresa wondered what saxophonists do in the rain, and it turned out one of them was a sax player, and happy to tell us. And I stood there and laughed silently when one of their friends came over and explained that she'd been down the street but the anti-Bush protesters had made her nervous. Then again, I didn't see that group of protestors: maybe some of our allies were the sort to make her nervous.

Or maybe it was that she was alone: back on the bus, someone told me that she'd been uncomfortable in a crowd of Bush supporters with only one friend to keep her company.

Over and over, I was very glad that I was with friends, and understood why Mary Kay had urged us to come meet her at Dupont Circle instead of going directly to the parade route. Some of that was simple companionship: it was a long day, consisting mostly of waiting, and it's good to have company for things like that. But it was also good to have someone to lend me a glove, someone to peel a clementine for, people I knew and knew I could trust.