A Crash Course In Democracy
In 2005 I was working as an aide to a Congresswoman. Within the first month or so of the job I was summoned to Washington, DC for training purposes. There, I learned that there is a whole arm of Congress aimed at removing political- and legislative-speak from bills and laws called the Congressional Research Service. They are charged with reprinting policy in language that is comprehensive about the actual effects of said policy. I also learned that this online service is not available to the general public.
Anyway, while I was there and surrounded by other young aides from all over the country, I tried to take in as much as I could. I accompanied my boss to the floor of the House of Representatives a few times and attempted to pick her brain about various policies currently before her. On one such trip, the vote bells began to toll (as they do throughout all the hallways of each congressional and senate office building) and we hopped on the underground train, which ferries politicians throughout the entire mini-city that is Capitol Hill. I sat across from Bronx Congressman Jose Serrano. My boss sat opposite Westchester Congresswoman Nita Lowey, who had broken her leg.
Rep. Serrano mentioned to my boss that his son was running for a state senate seat within her district. It was an indirect nudge to request her assistance in the matter. They were all democrats after all, and the seat was, at that time, occupied by a Republican. Needless to say, Jose Serrano Jr. later won the seat.
We arrived at our destination and approached the elevators. A crowd of old, white congressmen awaited ascension onto the floor of Congress. My boss instructed me to walk slower, as to not get stuck in the same elevator as them. We climbed into the next elevator. “Did you SEE all those WHITE MEN?” she shrieked at me.
We were deposited into the hallway and since, technically I was not allowed on the floor during voting, I made my way up the stairs to the mezzanine deck reserved for aides and tourists. I was halfway to the mezzanine when the fire alarms boomed through the building. I turned around to see a stream of representatives burst from their chamber and heavily armed congressional police screaming to evacuate the building. It was unclear, at first, why this was happening.
I ran down the stairs to find my boss screaming her head off. We ran out the doors and down the famous steps. She was still screaming. We got out onto the sidewalk and she thrust off both of her designer heels, and threw them at me with all of her books and paperwork while she ran screaming, and shoeless, down Constitution Avenue.
At the sight of this I can’t help but crack up laughing. Especially since, at this point, the threat of danger was little more than the fear mongering that would eventually ensue. A small plane had accidentally stumbled into the no-fly zone that encompasses the airways above Capitol Hill and the White House, for the second time in 2 months.
She eventually slowed to a rapid walk, put her shoes back on and we made our way a few blocks to find hoards of representatives and their staff milling about, congressional-issued blackberries in hand. A system wide missive had gone out to warn of the danger and evacuation before service on all of the devices went black. Representatives made their way to nearby residences. People were wandering in and out of townhouses on the sunny, tree-lined avenue.
My boss and I keep walking - her home was a bit further from the Hill then most - and pass by the home of republican Rep. Katherine Harris. My boss shouted to her, wishing her luck on her upcoming senate campaign. She replied gratefully. My boss noted that the ladies have got to stick together, regardless of party affiliation. I felt slightly embarrassed at her assessment of the situation, especially with the previously-noted role she had played during the 2000 election.
We continued on, silently walking side by side. I attempted to make conversation. She continued to hum to herself, unaware that I was talking. The volume of the humming increased as we approached her home. I gave up trying to talk and walked uncomfortably next to her. At this point I’ve only been on the job about 6 weeks.
As we walked up to the townhouse she owns and sublets part of to two other congresswomen, Rep. Denny Hastert was exiting a neighboring residence. “DENNY!” she shrieked sarcastically, “I’ve been trying to get you up here for YEARS!”
Hastert is known for being an especially awful republican Speaker of the House. I cringe once again - at both of them. He greets her, chuckles and keeps walking.
We enter her home to find a small gathering of representatives: her two roommates and Rep. Jerrold Nadler, in whose district I was raised. It felt like an alternate universe. A bunch of power brokers sitting around a barely furnished living room drinking beverages out of blue plastic cups more reminiscent of a frat party. My boss went out into her backyard and started watering her garden. She continued to hum.
Eventually blackberry service resumed and everyone made their way back to Capitol Hill where voting would resume shortly. I stayed on the Hill into the evening before heading back to my hotel. The Mayflower Hotel, to be exact, infamous now for former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer’s indiscretions there.
I woke up the next day and headed back to the Hill for my next training session. During our lunch break I decided to take a tour, on my own, of the original Supreme Court chamber, after which I make my way over to the Senate chambers to watch from the mezzanine. The Senate side has far stricter standards for their mezzanine level than those of the House, and a guard demanded that I walk through a metal detector and have my bag searched. She hassles me a bit about my camera, which I am forced to check, and I proceed on and take a seat. I realize soon after that attached to my key chain is a small bottle of pepper spray, considered a necessity for any woman residing in New York. Not sure what I, or anyone else would have done with it, but it was nice to know how well security works on Capitol Hill.
