Political Power

You’re not special or powerful — it just looks that way.

There is something about being in a group of people whose career or lifestyle is different than mine that turns me into a chameleon and lures me into feeling I belong. And it’s a little dangerous.

Take the time my friend Tracey, who worked in DC on some committee or another, invited me down to watch the 4th of July fireworks from the balcony of the US Capitol.

Forget leaving in the morning to get a spot like everyone else, then trying to shoehorn your car into a space on the George Washington Parkway — that no one is supposed to park on anyway — and hoping this year you won’t get ticketed or towed. Forget begging your 10 year-old to carry a backpack stocked with restricted beer or hard lemonade.

No. Being connected meant I didn’t have to concern myself with any of that.

We left Tracey’s I’m-moving-into-your-neighborhood-sorry-if-your-taxes-are-going-up NE townhouse a mere half hour before dusk. Took her car into the Capitol’s underground — I kid you not — air-conditioned parking garage. Went up the private elevator dragging a cooler of margarita mix, Cuervo, limes and kosher salt through the marble hallways past the statue of Ethan Allen and the “rest of the gang.”

One becomes so flip in flip-flops.

We ended up on the balcony, right between those massive marble columns that show up in the background on the PBS 4th of July Special every year.

Stretched out on The Mall below us, sweltering in the 100-plus degree heat, three million people sat on blankets and waited for the show to begin. We sat on chairs. In the shade. Above the masses like the scene from Evita. Sipping our drinks and wandering into Tracey’s air-conditioned office to cool off when it got a bit too toasty. Or to use the bathroom. Not sure what the three million down there were doing, but I was covered.

I practiced my Queen Elizabeth wave, hardly moving my hand, until I noticed a few people below were actually paying attention and starting to wave back.

Being on that balcony gave me a fleeting feeling of why people in Congress don’t want to give up their day jobs. The power to remove oneself from the hassles of everyday life and gain access to things most Americans can only dream about is quite a perk. Albeit for me, power by association, but power nevertheless.

What bothers me is that I felt smug. Like I belonged there.

Right. I just happened to know someone who worked at the Capitol who could bring friends over.

Unfortunately that sip of being different from the masses tasted better than the icy margarita Tracey handed me.

And I love margaritas.

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