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For weeks I had planned that upon victory I was going celebrate on the steps capitol building amongst hundreds of other proud Americans. When I showed up at 10, the scene was not at all how I pictured it. The hundreds were non-existent, and the only other people who thought it was a good idea to express their jubilation was a group of about 50, all parading “Yes on 8” signs.
The company I was with didn’t think it was a good idea to cross the picket line, but I was hell bent on standing on the fucking capitol steps. I paid the people no attention as I passed by, and 300 feet ahead I noticed that two very young girls had strayed from their pack and were giggling as they placed a sign on the front door to the building.
Once I got to the oh so glorious steps, it was pretty lonely. I stood there for a couple minutes, watching the shiloute of a ignorantly blissful mob cheer as some guy in a Honda laid a patch. I had to share the moment with my friend Erik, and while talking to him I realized I couldn’t ignore them when I walked back. My motivation isn’t clear, but as I approached the group I began yelling.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s hear it for the new President of the United States Barack Obama. He’s a dignified man who is going to change the fabric of this society…” and so on and so on. The boos and fuck yous came immediately, but in a fun way it inspired me more. As I reached the middle of three lanes on Capitol I turned to them, with the glowing building as the backdrop. It was at this point in which someone from the crowd yelled “terrorist.” I started laughing hysterically and jumped into the role of an auctioneer, asking them if I could get another “terrorist.” They obliged.
Erik, still on the line, hinted that I should probably leave at this point.
And now I know how good it feels to be Ted Dibiase.
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