I love my adopted home. I really do. I know there are people who could take it or leave it, and it’s been my experience that they didn’t choose to move here. Not across the board, there are those who chose this city and still don’t like it, but they’re in the minority. No, I love living in Colorado Springs. Still, I get homesick.
I didn’t grow up in the suburbs of Cincinnati; I didn’t live in the suburbs. I always lived within the city limits. Granted, my last house was within the city limits by about two blocks, but still in the city of Cincinnati. I went to school downtown, I used to shop down there, I even had a few jobs in the city. And the festivals…
Along the Ohio River (don’t breathe too deeply, you might gag), there are many structures built in an effort to revitalize the downtown area. In the 70s, both Riverfront Stadium and Riverfront Coliseum (now US Bank Arena) were built. Riverfront Stadium was designed by the same people who did Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburg. I can tell you, watching the Reds/Phillies or Bengals/Squealers…er, Steelers, on TV, I always had to double-check who was the home team. Both were situated on the river, and both had similar skylines as a background. Both have also since been replaced. Riverfront Coliseum has the unfortunate luck to be remembered for the 1979 The Who stampede, where 11 people were killed. Festival seating was made illegal in Cincinnati venues for several years. Fifteen, to be precise.
The serpentine wall is the site of many a festival and event, including Riverfest, a festival celebrating the end of summer. Started by a local radio station in 1977, this has become one of the defining events of the festival year in Cincinnati. Rumor has it the city would only agree to a permit if the station held the event on a Sunday. The station chose Labor Day Weekend, and the rest is history. Viewing the spectacular fireworks is such a huge deal in the city, hundreds of thousands crowd both sides of the river for hours at a time. Basically, unless you have friends in (literally) high places, you have to get there by noon to get a spot on the river. And be willing to sit there and hold that spot against all comers. The summer season is kicked off by Taste of Cincinnati, once the largest such festival in the country, until Chicago had to get all grabby and made theirs bigger. Always stealing our ideas.
Behind the Serpentine Wall, there’s Yeatman’s Cove and Sawyer Point (as in Tom Sawyer…well, maybe not). A shallow fountain-pool was built there, originally for looking. I can still see, in my mind, the signs saying “No Swimming.” However, being built in downtown Cincinnati, with a dearth of public pools and an abundance of warm children, it became a place to play in the water. Within a year, the city had installed lifeguards at the previously decorative fountain. Right beside that is P&G Pavilion, dedicated about the same time. As a P&G brat, I had to attend. There were some nice gifts, and they did feed us, so it wasn’t all bad. The area houses other festivals like Party-in-the-Park and free concerts. It was tradition for kids at my high school, the School for the Creative and Performing Arts, to go to Yeatman’s Cove after the last day of school. The school actually went from 4th – 12th grade, but it was only the high school kids that would have been allowed by their parents. Also the most likely to be able to find a way home.
Travel east from the wall and Sawyer Point, and you reach Bicentennial Commons, another spot for a concert. Most of the free concerts I saw in Cincinnati, I saw at Bicentennial Commons. Honestly, I can’t think of all the groups, but I did see UB40 and C&C Music Factory at their height. There were others more popular at the time, but some of the most fun concerts included Three Dog Night and the Village People. I don’t care if they’re gay, they’re still fun to look at.
Bicentennial Commons, dedicated in 1988, includes the controversial Gateway sculpture, a canal lock with a scale model of the Ohio river on top, from the beginning in Pennsylvania to its end in the Mississippi, complete with steamboat smokestacks, celebrating Cincinnati’s riverboating history. Oh, and the four smokestacks are topped by a winged piggy, each, celebrating Cincinnati’s pork processing history. Another title Chicago stole. We still have the largest Oktoberfest outside of Munich. Held in September, of course, starting with a week of festivities including real beer at lunch on Fountain Square (although I haven’t been for several years, this may have changed) and the World’s Largest Chicken Dance. But, that’s not along the river, so it’s not important.
The flying piggies atop the Gateway sculpture was a huge deal. It was discussed for months, with people dead set against it, worried we wouldn’t be taken seriously, and others thinking it was about time we got that giant stick out of our butts. One of Cincinnati’s nicknames is The Blue Chip city, for the high number of Blue Chip companies based there (Chicago hasn’t taken that one, yet), and Blue Chip companies aren’t known for being liberal. Totally shows.
Anyway, on the river-side of the Gateway is a pole topped with a model of Noah’s Ark, and a stick, marking the high point of the Ohio in the January 1937 flood. Some of the older buildings in town still show the watermarks. Ivorydale, Procter & Gamble’s first site in Cincinnati, has water marks about halfway up the first floor. It’s at least 5 miles from the river. And yes, they made soap there. Tell ya what, my mom used to work there, and so did I, and I can tell you that when you wanted to wash your car, you just needed to add water. Soap was already on it. But, that’s on the Mill Creek, not the Ohio River, so again, not important.
Bicentennial Commons is another spot for festivals, like the BBQ festival and the Midwest Black Family Reunion. The pathways are covered with paving stones telling the history of the area. Really, without a map, it’s hard to tell where everything is. Bicentennial Commons and Sawyer Point include Yeatman’s Cove, Public Landing and the Serpentine Wall, as well as the P&G Pavilion and an incredible view of the river. At the farthest eastern end is Montgomery Inn, famous for its ribs, although I think it’s overrated. Take away the sauce and they’ve got nothing. I prefer Burbanks.
It’s not a perfect city. In April 2001, a month before I left, we had what we considered riots, and what LA would probably consider a block party. There was a curfew in select neighborhoods, including my own. People downplayed the tension constantly, and ignored a few key facts. They’d question why the black community didn’t trust the police, and we’d point out their track record – 15 black men under 40 died at the hands of the police from 1995 to 2001. They’d ask how many white men, and we’d reply “None. That’s the problem.” I’ve actually seen an email stating that if 100% of the people committing crimes are black, then that’s how many would be arrested. The black population within the city limits is 30%, not 100%. And I can promise you, I did not grow up trusting the police. Pale as I am, I’ve been pulled over for a DWB (Driving While Black). I’ve been pulled over for legitimate tickets, too. You CAN tell the difference.
So it’s flawed, it’s confused, and in many ways, it’s still stuck in the 1950s. But it’s trying. And when it works, it’s a beautiful thing.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
What Day Is This? Pt 2
We learn a few things about the layout of downtown Denver through trial and error, and finally find The Tattered Cover. It’s almost 8:00, the reading has been going on for nearly half an hour. We haven’t parked, yet, but we kick Sarah out of the car to go see if she can get in. She, after all, is the main reason we made the drive. Fortunately, even though she couldn’t get in the main room, the bookstore had a speaker outside so others could at least listen.
The event itself was pretty interesting. I did feel kinda old, everyone else I saw couldn’t have been more than 25, but it was still interesting. The author, Chuck Palahniuk, was still reading from his book when we got there. Sheila left for the restroom while I made myself comfortable on the thin green carpet. The bookstore was originally in a different location, it had moved a year or two ago. The carpet must have had sentimental value, because I’m almost positive it was the same one. I’ve had camisoles that were thicker. Just the same, I managed to sit on the floor, accompanied the crisped rice sound of my knees. Getting older sucks. Sheila managed to get lost around the magazines (big surprise) and eventually found her way back up to the event. She brought two up with her, one called Geek and one called SFX, which is out of the UK. She wouldn’t let me read SFX, so I got stuck with Geek. Oh well. The author was interesting to listen to.
Finally, we leave. Sarah and I have somehow managed to encourage each other into more and more obnoxious behavior. We blame it on hunger and fatigue and leave it at that. Sheila, keeping the cool head, declares that on future outings, she will bring Cheerios, teddy grahams, juice boxes and crayons and paper to keep us occupied. And a stick. Not sure, but I think we were getting on her nerves just a little, ‘cuz she kept saying it. I texted my cousin to ask where the diner she prefers was, and let her know why I was in Denver. She was upset, just so happens she loves that author, too. I wish I’d thought of saying something yesterday when it first occurred to me. Oh well. We get a little disoriented looking for the diner, finally spotting it on the corner. After realizing that what we spotted was actually a Burger King and the diner was the other way, we made a quick u-turn with the left-turn light. Sheila, apparently feeling completely out of sorts, is convinced the oncoming traffic is, well, oncoming, and cries out that the cars are following us, they’re getting closer. I can’t see out my window because her head is in the way, but in an effort to keep from getting killed, I speed up. In the turn. In my hightop rollerskate. Luckily, we didn’t roll over. Okay, we weren’t anywhere near rolling, but we could have. The oncoming traffic was not moving, naturally, they had a red light. I guess it was just her contribution to the confusion brought about by our old friends, hunger and fatigue.
At last, we made it to the diner. Sarah was quiet in the parking lot, self-conscious about how her laugh echoed through the skyscraper canyon, but that didn’t last long. The quiet, not the echo. Frankly, I like her laugh. It’s not afraid to be what it is. We got our table and continued our conversation/bickering. There were misunderstandings, because apparently, as the youngest member of our trio, Sarah is apparently half-deaf. She heard all sorts of things we weren’t actually saying. Ah well. The meal met my expectations, and appeared to exceed theirs. And our behavior wasn’t much different than they would see on a weekend, except we weren’t drinking. We were just being loud and obnoxious, unconsciously encouraging each other. We got a few hairy eyeballs, but nothing too serious.
Both Sarah and I were inspired. We had to record this event, the feelings and camaraderie, the very insanity we dealt with, all had to be noted. The only person who had pen and paper, though, was Sheila, who had no intention of remembering anything. Sarah and I wrapped up our notes, paid our checks and concluded our time in the diner with Sheila’s two jokes, one about a snail knocking on a door, and the other about a man walking on air. If I remember, I’ll tell you some time. They’re funnier than my statisticians hunting, but don’t tell her that.
What an evening. If any of us were working at the time, this wouldn’t have happened. Someone undoubtedly would have to get up in the morning, if not all. As it is, though, we are all gainfully unemployed, thanks to the crumbling subprime market, and lack of jobs in this city that pay a living wage. The ones that don’t won’t hire us because we’re overqualified, but that’s another story.
Totally gotta do this again!
The event itself was pretty interesting. I did feel kinda old, everyone else I saw couldn’t have been more than 25, but it was still interesting. The author, Chuck Palahniuk, was still reading from his book when we got there. Sheila left for the restroom while I made myself comfortable on the thin green carpet. The bookstore was originally in a different location, it had moved a year or two ago. The carpet must have had sentimental value, because I’m almost positive it was the same one. I’ve had camisoles that were thicker. Just the same, I managed to sit on the floor, accompanied the crisped rice sound of my knees. Getting older sucks. Sheila managed to get lost around the magazines (big surprise) and eventually found her way back up to the event. She brought two up with her, one called Geek and one called SFX, which is out of the UK. She wouldn’t let me read SFX, so I got stuck with Geek. Oh well. The author was interesting to listen to.
Finally, we leave. Sarah and I have somehow managed to encourage each other into more and more obnoxious behavior. We blame it on hunger and fatigue and leave it at that. Sheila, keeping the cool head, declares that on future outings, she will bring Cheerios, teddy grahams, juice boxes and crayons and paper to keep us occupied. And a stick. Not sure, but I think we were getting on her nerves just a little, ‘cuz she kept saying it. I texted my cousin to ask where the diner she prefers was, and let her know why I was in Denver. She was upset, just so happens she loves that author, too. I wish I’d thought of saying something yesterday when it first occurred to me. Oh well. We get a little disoriented looking for the diner, finally spotting it on the corner. After realizing that what we spotted was actually a Burger King and the diner was the other way, we made a quick u-turn with the left-turn light. Sheila, apparently feeling completely out of sorts, is convinced the oncoming traffic is, well, oncoming, and cries out that the cars are following us, they’re getting closer. I can’t see out my window because her head is in the way, but in an effort to keep from getting killed, I speed up. In the turn. In my hightop rollerskate. Luckily, we didn’t roll over. Okay, we weren’t anywhere near rolling, but we could have. The oncoming traffic was not moving, naturally, they had a red light. I guess it was just her contribution to the confusion brought about by our old friends, hunger and fatigue.
At last, we made it to the diner. Sarah was quiet in the parking lot, self-conscious about how her laugh echoed through the skyscraper canyon, but that didn’t last long. The quiet, not the echo. Frankly, I like her laugh. It’s not afraid to be what it is. We got our table and continued our conversation/bickering. There were misunderstandings, because apparently, as the youngest member of our trio, Sarah is apparently half-deaf. She heard all sorts of things we weren’t actually saying. Ah well. The meal met my expectations, and appeared to exceed theirs. And our behavior wasn’t much different than they would see on a weekend, except we weren’t drinking. We were just being loud and obnoxious, unconsciously encouraging each other. We got a few hairy eyeballs, but nothing too serious.
Both Sarah and I were inspired. We had to record this event, the feelings and camaraderie, the very insanity we dealt with, all had to be noted. The only person who had pen and paper, though, was Sheila, who had no intention of remembering anything. Sarah and I wrapped up our notes, paid our checks and concluded our time in the diner with Sheila’s two jokes, one about a snail knocking on a door, and the other about a man walking on air. If I remember, I’ll tell you some time. They’re funnier than my statisticians hunting, but don’t tell her that.
What an evening. If any of us were working at the time, this wouldn’t have happened. Someone undoubtedly would have to get up in the morning, if not all. As it is, though, we are all gainfully unemployed, thanks to the crumbling subprime market, and lack of jobs in this city that pay a living wage. The ones that don’t won’t hire us because we’re overqualified, but that’s another story.
Totally gotta do this again!
What Day Is This? Pt 1
The phone rings, not uncommon, with a local number, also not uncommon. Usually, though, it’s either my bestest friend Sheila or one of the myriad Democratic campaign offices looking for someone to call other potential voters. But this time, it’s Sarah.
Sarah, Sheila and I met at work, long ago, and hit it off almost instantly, even though we didn’t realize it at first. Considering our backgrounds, likes and dislikes, and the fact that Sarah is too young to know what it means to defect, it’s pretty unlikely, but there you have it. Sarah is a goth-y mommy, writer, very open and out there with her thoughts, feelings, wants, desires, opinions and so forth, and 14, upgraded from 12 (well, okay, actually she’s in her 20s, but that’s beside the point). Sheila is a somewhat prudish and sheltered protective-y mother, writer, very closed and protective of her thoughts, feelings, wants, desires, opinions and so forth. And me, well, I’m just flawless. Stop laughing.
Anyway, the phone rings, and I see by my call ID that it’s Sarah. Well, since she’s one of the people I actually like to talk to, I answer. “What day is it?” No “hello,” no “what’s up,” just a demand to know what the date was. You’d be amazed how hard it is to keep track of time when you don’t leave the house on a daily basis. Fortunately for me, I have two calendars in close proximity to my computer, and one that is on my computer. “May 21,” I answer, curious where she’s going with this. Through the incoherent babble, I learn that her favorite author of all time (or something like that) was going to be at Tattered Cover in Denver tomorrow and she tried to think of all her friends that read so she thought and I was the first person she thought of so she called me right away and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her tomorrow to hear Chuck Palahniuk at Tattered Cover in Denver tomorrow ‘cuz he’d be there tomorrow and there wouldn’t be any questions or anything but he’ll be reading from his new book Snuff and he’s so awesome I love his books I can’t wait to see him how cool will that be… Finally, she took a breath. “Sure.” After some quick searches online to confirm the exact location and what would be happening, we had a plan. She needed to check with her husband to see if he was okay with her taking off the moment he got home, since she couldn’t leave the kiddies alone, and I mentioned that if I drove up to Tattered Cover and didn’t tell Sheila, she’d never speak to me again. Since she’s keeping me sane right now, I kinda need her to talk to me. So, Sarah called Sheila – more precisely, she called Sheila “Lisa,” – and made the arrangements. Secondhand information, she received the okay from her hubby while on the phone with Sheila/Lisa and apparently was doing laps in her home office.
I drive, because I have the most fuel-efficient car, and I’m most familiar with driving around Denver. Sheila and Sarah might add it’s because I’m also a control freak, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. We meet at my house, Sheila first, Sarah shortly thereafter. Still excited, she’s also anxious because we’re setting out much later than she wanted. The talk starts at 7:30, and we have to drive 70 miles or so in heavy traffic, and it’s 5:45. With a straight shot up I-25, we’d have plenty of time. But, my house is at least 7 miles from the nearest onramp and it’s still rush hour. What’s normally a 15-minute drive to the highway takes more like 20. That was the shortest bit. Once on the highway, we get the full impact of rush hour traffic. Time to take the alternate route, driving up CO 83. It follows I-25 almost exactly between Colorado Springs and Denver, just about 5 miles east. Getting to the alternate route took another 10 minutes, so now it’s after 6:00 and we’re really just getting started.
My little ’99 Chevy POS chugged its merry way up to Denver. I pointed out to Sarah that taking CO 83 is my preferred route to Denver because it’s so much more peaceful. I find driving on the interstate in heavy traffic annoying, and I just might have some potential road rage issues. Sheila keeps threatening to call the number to report drunk or aggressive drivers whenever she rides with me. Anyway, Sarah was able to calm down some, because the drive was indeed quite relaxing. Except for this butthead who insisted on riding my tail so close I could see she needed to tweeze her eyebrows. Apparently, the dotted yellow lines didn’t apply to her, she was gonna keep pushing until I got up to the speed she wanted. It’s not like I was doing 40 in a 75, I was actually speeding! Irritating. Eventually, she did pass, so at least that nuisance was gone. The closer we got to Denver, the more nervous I got, though, because I hadn’t really planned out the alternate route. I grabbed my map of Denver and handed it to Sarah, helping her to see where we were and where we wanted to be. She determined a route to our final destination. I may have helped some, but she picked it out all by herself. She can read a map, given enough time to do it. There are plenty of people who can’t. Sheila, meanwhile, is sitting in the back seat chuckling. Not sure what she was laughing at, but she seemed to feel Sarah and I were acting like an old married couple. I think she was delirious from hunger and fatigue.
Speaking of which, somewhere around Castle Rock, Sarah noticed some new construction. A Jack-in-the Box. I’ve only heard of Jack-in-the-Box on television shows, I’ve never actually seen one. Unfortunately, seeing that building going up only made Sarah realize she was hungry. She started talking about food. Naturally, that got me talking about food. Sheila complained, saying our talking about food was making her hungry. Well, duh, misery loves company.
When I’m hungry, and I’m often hungry, I just whine a little, complain a little, and spend time looking for something to eat. Even when I was thin, I was always hungry, and I ate more then than I do now. Regardless, with someone else who reacts the same as I do when hungry – i.e. Sarah – I guess I get a little worse. It’s not like I was the only one. We were pretty much feeding off each other. The more we drove, the hungrier we got. We managed to stop the food conversation only to have Sheila, of all people, bring it up again. We managed to get off that conversation when Sheila brought out Buddy, her purse gerbil. Well, that’s what she says, anyway. It’s a small toy that vibrates when you pull the string. It’s a little on the furry side, though, and she did say it was for her cat. Whatever.
Continued in Part 2
Sarah, Sheila and I met at work, long ago, and hit it off almost instantly, even though we didn’t realize it at first. Considering our backgrounds, likes and dislikes, and the fact that Sarah is too young to know what it means to defect, it’s pretty unlikely, but there you have it. Sarah is a goth-y mommy, writer, very open and out there with her thoughts, feelings, wants, desires, opinions and so forth, and 14, upgraded from 12 (well, okay, actually she’s in her 20s, but that’s beside the point). Sheila is a somewhat prudish and sheltered protective-y mother, writer, very closed and protective of her thoughts, feelings, wants, desires, opinions and so forth. And me, well, I’m just flawless. Stop laughing.
Anyway, the phone rings, and I see by my call ID that it’s Sarah. Well, since she’s one of the people I actually like to talk to, I answer. “What day is it?” No “hello,” no “what’s up,” just a demand to know what the date was. You’d be amazed how hard it is to keep track of time when you don’t leave the house on a daily basis. Fortunately for me, I have two calendars in close proximity to my computer, and one that is on my computer. “May 21,” I answer, curious where she’s going with this. Through the incoherent babble, I learn that her favorite author of all time (or something like that) was going to be at Tattered Cover in Denver tomorrow and she tried to think of all her friends that read so she thought and I was the first person she thought of so she called me right away and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her tomorrow to hear Chuck Palahniuk at Tattered Cover in Denver tomorrow ‘cuz he’d be there tomorrow and there wouldn’t be any questions or anything but he’ll be reading from his new book Snuff and he’s so awesome I love his books I can’t wait to see him how cool will that be… Finally, she took a breath. “Sure.” After some quick searches online to confirm the exact location and what would be happening, we had a plan. She needed to check with her husband to see if he was okay with her taking off the moment he got home, since she couldn’t leave the kiddies alone, and I mentioned that if I drove up to Tattered Cover and didn’t tell Sheila, she’d never speak to me again. Since she’s keeping me sane right now, I kinda need her to talk to me. So, Sarah called Sheila – more precisely, she called Sheila “Lisa,” – and made the arrangements. Secondhand information, she received the okay from her hubby while on the phone with Sheila/Lisa and apparently was doing laps in her home office.
I drive, because I have the most fuel-efficient car, and I’m most familiar with driving around Denver. Sheila and Sarah might add it’s because I’m also a control freak, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. We meet at my house, Sheila first, Sarah shortly thereafter. Still excited, she’s also anxious because we’re setting out much later than she wanted. The talk starts at 7:30, and we have to drive 70 miles or so in heavy traffic, and it’s 5:45. With a straight shot up I-25, we’d have plenty of time. But, my house is at least 7 miles from the nearest onramp and it’s still rush hour. What’s normally a 15-minute drive to the highway takes more like 20. That was the shortest bit. Once on the highway, we get the full impact of rush hour traffic. Time to take the alternate route, driving up CO 83. It follows I-25 almost exactly between Colorado Springs and Denver, just about 5 miles east. Getting to the alternate route took another 10 minutes, so now it’s after 6:00 and we’re really just getting started.
My little ’99 Chevy POS chugged its merry way up to Denver. I pointed out to Sarah that taking CO 83 is my preferred route to Denver because it’s so much more peaceful. I find driving on the interstate in heavy traffic annoying, and I just might have some potential road rage issues. Sheila keeps threatening to call the number to report drunk or aggressive drivers whenever she rides with me. Anyway, Sarah was able to calm down some, because the drive was indeed quite relaxing. Except for this butthead who insisted on riding my tail so close I could see she needed to tweeze her eyebrows. Apparently, the dotted yellow lines didn’t apply to her, she was gonna keep pushing until I got up to the speed she wanted. It’s not like I was doing 40 in a 75, I was actually speeding! Irritating. Eventually, she did pass, so at least that nuisance was gone. The closer we got to Denver, the more nervous I got, though, because I hadn’t really planned out the alternate route. I grabbed my map of Denver and handed it to Sarah, helping her to see where we were and where we wanted to be. She determined a route to our final destination. I may have helped some, but she picked it out all by herself. She can read a map, given enough time to do it. There are plenty of people who can’t. Sheila, meanwhile, is sitting in the back seat chuckling. Not sure what she was laughing at, but she seemed to feel Sarah and I were acting like an old married couple. I think she was delirious from hunger and fatigue.
Speaking of which, somewhere around Castle Rock, Sarah noticed some new construction. A Jack-in-the Box. I’ve only heard of Jack-in-the-Box on television shows, I’ve never actually seen one. Unfortunately, seeing that building going up only made Sarah realize she was hungry. She started talking about food. Naturally, that got me talking about food. Sheila complained, saying our talking about food was making her hungry. Well, duh, misery loves company.
When I’m hungry, and I’m often hungry, I just whine a little, complain a little, and spend time looking for something to eat. Even when I was thin, I was always hungry, and I ate more then than I do now. Regardless, with someone else who reacts the same as I do when hungry – i.e. Sarah – I guess I get a little worse. It’s not like I was the only one. We were pretty much feeding off each other. The more we drove, the hungrier we got. We managed to stop the food conversation only to have Sheila, of all people, bring it up again. We managed to get off that conversation when Sheila brought out Buddy, her purse gerbil. Well, that’s what she says, anyway. It’s a small toy that vibrates when you pull the string. It’s a little on the furry side, though, and she did say it was for her cat. Whatever.
Continued in Part 2
Saturday, May 17, 2008
The Democratic Process in Colorado
Well, here we are, another step closer to the final election in November. Today, May 16, the Democratic Party for three Colorado Congressional Districts assembled to decide who might represent them in the US Congress. Generally speaking, it was a good thing, there was, as before with the county convention, a huge crowd, full of energy and excitement. Unfortunately, as before, there was a serious disconnect in planning. I don’t know if there was a larger venue available, but the one chosen was inadequate (serious understatement) to the needs of the party. In addition to the CD meetings, the event today also served as an opportunity for delegates and alternates to the state convention, tomorrow, May 17, to get their credentials. Credentials were not mailed to delegates and alternates. A tremendously bad idea.
For the county assembly and convention, the party could plead ignorance. Turnout was nearly 10 times what they normally have for any previous events in the past decade or more. This time, two months later, they knew better. After some of us sat outside for two hours, waiting to get in, standing in the cold (and flurries), we had hoped that they realized they needed more planning, better organization. We didn’t get it.
To their credit, everyone involved was volunteers, and volunteers are often doing the best they can while they have other obligations to handle. In this case, however, I think it would have been to their benefit to actively advertise for someone adept in crowd management, someone who has planned events where the participants number in the thousands, instead of the hundreds. I myself was physically tested, something relating to my current physical health, which really irritates me because I used to have incredible stamina but that’s another rant for another day. I was tested. After standing in line for an hour in an overcrowded, undercooled room, I felt myself getting dizzy. Not something that happens with any sort of regularity. Well, didn’t used to, anyway. Fortunately, just when it was at its worst, I was able to find a chair and take a moment to get my bearings. Long enough to get the energy to search for water.
Then there was the parking. The lot was suited for the hotel where the convention/assembly was held, and the various small businesses that shared that section of the complex. Not for the thousands of people descending on the tiny little lot, parking wherever they could. I spent 15 minutes in the lot waiting for a chance to turn around. I wound up parking across the street. The area itself is a large commercial complex, including anchor stores like Target, and some others that I can’t think of right now, and a few hotels and a movie theater, with the private drive ending at World Arena, a venue for major concerts and circuses and such. The lots all across the complex were full. For the state convention, there are shuttles to transport people from special lots around the city. For this convention, everyone was on their own. A couple hours after the official convention start time, there was an announcement that both Target and the World Arena were towing cars in their lots. We were later informed that Target would only tow if cars were left overnight, but we don’t know if any cars had been towed. How they could tell which cars to tow was beyond me, for the ones parked at Target, anyway (I was parked near an Arby’s, further down from the Target). The World Arena, on the other hand, could easily tell, since they didn’t have an event for the day. The state convention is there tomorrow.
Registration for the state convention starts at 7:00 AM. Delegates are supposed to be seated at 8:00, alternates at 9:30. I’m an alternate, so technically won’t be needed until later in the morning. But, like the congressional district event, the state convention is being run by volunteers, inadequately prepared for the onslaught. And there will be MANY more people. So, the plan is to leave here by 6:30. That’s, um, 3 ½ hours from now. My late schedule is finally catching up with me. I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. Combination of not going to sleep until after 2:00 and the pain.
I’m tired, I’m in a lot of pain, and I’m a little frustrated. My health doesn’t really allow for this sort of thing. Not to mention I have a financial analysis project and article review, both due by Monday, neither of which has been completed. That is my own fault, I know, but still, I don’t have the time for all this hassle and drama. To make matters worse, there was a registration for people who wanted to run for delegates to the national convention, which I completely missed. I thought I had already signed up, but I hadn’t. So, the only way I get to the DNC is as a volunteer, something I physically cannot do. Helluva way to spend my birthday. This whole thing could have gone better. Of course, when I got really down about the whole situation, I kept reminding myself I could be speaking Russian…
For the county assembly and convention, the party could plead ignorance. Turnout was nearly 10 times what they normally have for any previous events in the past decade or more. This time, two months later, they knew better. After some of us sat outside for two hours, waiting to get in, standing in the cold (and flurries), we had hoped that they realized they needed more planning, better organization. We didn’t get it.
To their credit, everyone involved was volunteers, and volunteers are often doing the best they can while they have other obligations to handle. In this case, however, I think it would have been to their benefit to actively advertise for someone adept in crowd management, someone who has planned events where the participants number in the thousands, instead of the hundreds. I myself was physically tested, something relating to my current physical health, which really irritates me because I used to have incredible stamina but that’s another rant for another day. I was tested. After standing in line for an hour in an overcrowded, undercooled room, I felt myself getting dizzy. Not something that happens with any sort of regularity. Well, didn’t used to, anyway. Fortunately, just when it was at its worst, I was able to find a chair and take a moment to get my bearings. Long enough to get the energy to search for water.
Then there was the parking. The lot was suited for the hotel where the convention/assembly was held, and the various small businesses that shared that section of the complex. Not for the thousands of people descending on the tiny little lot, parking wherever they could. I spent 15 minutes in the lot waiting for a chance to turn around. I wound up parking across the street. The area itself is a large commercial complex, including anchor stores like Target, and some others that I can’t think of right now, and a few hotels and a movie theater, with the private drive ending at World Arena, a venue for major concerts and circuses and such. The lots all across the complex were full. For the state convention, there are shuttles to transport people from special lots around the city. For this convention, everyone was on their own. A couple hours after the official convention start time, there was an announcement that both Target and the World Arena were towing cars in their lots. We were later informed that Target would only tow if cars were left overnight, but we don’t know if any cars had been towed. How they could tell which cars to tow was beyond me, for the ones parked at Target, anyway (I was parked near an Arby’s, further down from the Target). The World Arena, on the other hand, could easily tell, since they didn’t have an event for the day. The state convention is there tomorrow.
Registration for the state convention starts at 7:00 AM. Delegates are supposed to be seated at 8:00, alternates at 9:30. I’m an alternate, so technically won’t be needed until later in the morning. But, like the congressional district event, the state convention is being run by volunteers, inadequately prepared for the onslaught. And there will be MANY more people. So, the plan is to leave here by 6:30. That’s, um, 3 ½ hours from now. My late schedule is finally catching up with me. I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. Combination of not going to sleep until after 2:00 and the pain.
I’m tired, I’m in a lot of pain, and I’m a little frustrated. My health doesn’t really allow for this sort of thing. Not to mention I have a financial analysis project and article review, both due by Monday, neither of which has been completed. That is my own fault, I know, but still, I don’t have the time for all this hassle and drama. To make matters worse, there was a registration for people who wanted to run for delegates to the national convention, which I completely missed. I thought I had already signed up, but I hadn’t. So, the only way I get to the DNC is as a volunteer, something I physically cannot do. Helluva way to spend my birthday. This whole thing could have gone better. Of course, when I got really down about the whole situation, I kept reminding myself I could be speaking Russian…
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