St. Barack, hear our prayers

By: Jonathan Boydston

Posted: 5/16/08

It has been several weeks since I first attempted to witness the proverbial canonization of Saint Barack (by way of rally) at Mac Court in Eugene.

Don't get me wrong: C-SPAN has lured me in often enough with its rip-roaringly captivating programs that I've had plenty of chances to watch Obama's stump speech.

Rather, I was really just trying to observe the habits of Eugenians (Eugeners?) during such a massive event.

Sure enough, liberals swarmed like flies to electric zappers in order to catch a glimpse of the personification of inspiration. So many, in fact, that my hopes were soon shattered at the sight of thousands upon thousands of eager Oregonians in lines that snaked around the entire neighborhood.

As soon as I found the back of the line - which took about an hour to do - I found myself in front of a continuously growing Dutch family.

At first there was only the father and daughter. Then a son appeared. Then another, and finally the mother came to cap off the group.

Their sing-songy language and accents tipped me off to their nationality - not to mention their uniquely Dutch personas. (The kindness of the Dutch is so great that it borders on being a little creepy.)

After being in line for an hour and only moving 100 yards or so, I knew that my chances of making it into the rally were plummeting. Time lethargically passed. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days.

Soon enough, sometime between hours two and three it started: the Dutch family behind me, in an attempt to pass the time, broke out in song. Dutch song, naturally.

That was when my mood turned from moderate discontent to borderline hysteria.

"When are we going to get out of this line?! Where the hell is Obama?!"

The Dutch folk songs dragged on, muddled together with some American campfire-type medleys.

Soon, though, the line picked up pace. We neared the entrance. The light was in sight!

Just then an Obama volunteer climbed up on a nearby brick wall and announced the inevitable.

"The place is all full," he cried. "But don't worry - Barack will come outside and make a quick speech. He takes care of his people!"

"How comforting," I thought.

After hearing the few words Obama had for his rejected supporters, I left, pledging to try and see him before the Oregonian primary.

Last week such an opportunity emerged.

As I was leaving Corvallis to visit some friends in Eugene, I received the pleasantly surprising news that Obama was going to be on the University of Oregon campus at the same time I was.

After spending some time with friends at the bar (after my first experience at an Obama rally, I had no interest in sobriety) I made my way over to the rally. Guarding the entrance were several secret service police officers funneling people through metal detectors while searching their bags.

I stepped up to one of the security stations and fell in line behind a woman who, with all political correctness aside, looked crazy.

After avoiding giving her bags to the secret service police officers she eventually laid her possessions out for them to see.

They searched through her belongings, eventually pulling out a prescription bottle that was about 6 inches long and packed with medical marijuana blunts.

The officers - who were not from Oregon - were dumbfounded. I, meanwhile, was delighted.

After calling over support and inspecting the woman's documents, the officers allowed her in, laughing under their breath and holding out the prescription bottle for me to see.

"If you've never seen medical marijuana before, here it is," the officer said to me.

The rally itself was what I had expected. Messages of inspiration and unity captivated the crowd, and all those in attendance seemed to be content with the experience.

For me, though, the reward of seeing Obama lay not in what he had to say, but rather who he brought together. My experiences might not have been what I expected, but they were certainly ones that I will recall - for better or worse - for some time to come.

Jonathan Boydston is a senior in fisheries and wildlife sciences and English. The opinions expressed in his columns do not necessarily represent those of the Daily Barometer staff. Boydston can be reached at forum@dailybarometer.com.