Lunch at the Capitol

When we rolled up to the back door of the U.S. Capitol building, we were met by a smiling plain clothes security guard (and several uniformed officers with giant guns) inquiring as to our purpose. ID card in hand, my boss explained we were here for a little tour. The guard was instantly apologetic, quickly jotting out name tags for all of us that boasted "Staff-Led Tour" in red caps. 

"You're Pat Schroeder, right?" He said, though it is more a statement than a query. When she confirmed he added, "We really miss you around here Pat." He was not the only person to say so. 

I was a bit starstruck, to say the least, following Pat around as I saw the inside of the Capitol building for the first time ever. We all-- we being Heather, three other young female AAP staffers and myself--kept close to her so as to adequately hear any insights about the building, or stories of her past in it... "The Senate side is like a cave, darker than the House side - someone should invest in 100-watt bulbs...those spots on the steps there are blood, from a duel. I'm serious! The male members called the founding mothers statue 'three women in a bathtub.' "

Periodically members would spot Pat and grab her for a hug. The first of which was Zoe Lofgren (D-CA), who I recognized as a member of the House Judiciary Committee because she sat in on the copyright subcommittee hearing I attended a few weeks back. 

Walking towards the House side, I peered out the windows toward the mall, and gazed, slack-jawed at the frescoed ceilings and wall-sized portraits. The commanding grandness of the capitol immediately brought to mind the Vatican museum in Rome, except for frazzled staffers replaced the ubiquitous amoeba-like clusters of tourists (though there were some of those). While we walked, Pat looked at me and, catching sight of my wide-eyed expression, smiled knowingly. I wondered if she was thinking at all of her early days in the building, her first votes...

Several twists and turns brought us to the members-only cafe. Tables on the periphery were taken up with members and staffers in suits and american flag lapel pins. Pat waved to a congressman a few tables away, Duncan Hunter (R-CA), with whom she sat on the Armed Services Committee. Towards the end of the meal, another member stopped over and Pat asked when they would be voting (on the second try at the bailout package). He told her fifteen minutes, and asked her how she would have voted. "I'm glad I don't have to make that decision," she laughed. 

After lunch, we made our way past the House chamber where they were indeed casting the vote that would pass the bailout. The most telling sign was the congestive presence of the press--the pressroom was filled wall-to-wall with a significant spillover of photographers and reporters tapping their palms anxiously with their notebooks, their eyes darting from staffer to staffer, looking to grab a member for comments. We passed John Hall (D-NY, Poughkeepsie) on his way in to vote. 

We breezed through the rotunda (see picture) and moved back toward the senate side, away from the fracas. The halls were suspiciously deserted of student groups and interns. A lone security officer stopped us and indicated we had to go back - until Pat whipped out her member card again. "That means Cheney's around," Pat murmured to me. On our way to the exit all laughed about how badass we felt as part of the entourage. Exiting the way we entered, I felt the stirring of a familiar desire -- the feeling I get when I'm on the hill, wanting to be a part of it all. It's the feeling of any government engagement - school, local, national - being part of the works, something important. It's something I felt on a small scale at Vassar, but will probably chase again until I can manage to get my hands on it, even if it is just the delusion of a significant contribution.