Ernest Reid
Staff
It’s an awkward moment for me in Washington D.C. On stage, four U.S. soldiers are singing the anthem and I don’t quite know what to do. I’m standing shoulder to shoulder with patriotic Americans; their eyes are closed, hats on hearts, words are mouthed. I can only turn to Flynn and give him a knowing shrug. I remember this is not my anthem, this is not my country.
Suddenly, I begin to question whether this is even my rally. I started to think: why did I come here? Am I actually there to protest?
No, I’m not. I can’t say I really care about sanity in American politics – they’re not mine. I’m a Canadian.
I’m there simply to be there, to be in that crowd, to say I went to that rally. I’m there to see Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I love their shows and I watch them almost every night. I’ve traveled 12 hours, crossed national and state borders to see television people in real life – and we’re nowhere near the front. Instead of watching the rally at home on TV, I’m standing in the National Mall, watching it on an even bigger TV next to 100,000 Americans. Flynn and I are still lucky to be where we are, and there is absolutely no more room.
I start watching the Americans around me; I look around and remember that my immediate neighbour is a 60-something-year- old woman in a black cowboy hat. I can tell she wants to unfurl her banner again and show off a giant weed leaf in American colours. She smiles as the aroma of ganja carries past us on the wind.
Further ahead, someone’s gently waving their cardboard cut-out of the Reddit.com alien. Somewhere on my far left I see “I have a PhD in Horribleness” bobbing up and down. I was starting to think the point of the event was to meet people from the internet, but thankfully, the sprinkling of Yoda quotes and occasional vampire costume legitimized this rally for me. On the eve of a major election, I’m glad I’m here to witness this sobering political touchstone channeled through Kid Rock, the guys from Mythbusters and R2D2.
I don’t know what to do with my own protest sign. Eye Weekly had given us signs on the bus, and I’d only been using mine as a knife to politely cut through the crowd. On mine, there’s a bold Canadian flag and the phrase “Apprehensive Canadians for Truthiness.” I keep it next to my chest for most of the rally, flag facing out in a passive-aggressive expression of Canadian pride.
Throughout the whole day, Americans greet us with open arms and camera lenses. “Oh, you’re Canadians!” they say and we stop and pose for photographs. I’m happy to do my part to deepen the Flickr pool. We stop for a while and chat about how Colbert fell flat, our favourite act and how inspiring Stewart’s final speech was. Then we part ways, deny them the pleasures of hearing us utter another “Canadianism” and continue hiking toward the White House.
We maneuver our way through the crowd looking for cheap food. Flynn gives me a deadpan tour of Washington D.C. a la Fallout 3 as we walk past embassies, national archives and FBI buildings. Every restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue is packed and out of our price range. This is where lobbyists go when they say “let’s do lunch.”
If America runs the world, this is where the command consoles are. This city has power. This is where the buttons get pushed. Suddenly, I feel intimated and excited by this idea. There’s absolutely no comparison to Washington in our own nation – Ottawa simply isn’t the navel of a super-power. As we make our way past Secret Service cars to see the White House at a distance, I’m overwhelmed by a thought: that’s where the ‘leader of the free world’ lives.
Walking through wide streets past pale brick parthenons, I can’t help feeling more and more Canadian. I may watch America’s television, but I do not think America’s thoughts. This rally – this city – was not for me. I can’t emulate their political troubles. I never cared about restoring sanity. I’m a tourist and I’m glad. I’m glad my nation’s capital doesn’t have an obelisk, that there’s no Athenian temple to the fathers of Confederation.
Stepping on the bus, I hold my political sign like an oversized teddy bear won at a theme park. I’ve had enough of TV Land. I’m tired and I need a commercial break. If nothing else, the rally made me thankful for my nation. Our political culture doesn’t need Jon Stewarts or Stephen Colberts, or events like this rally – and even with the massive influence of American news, I don’t think it ever will.
