From Grant Park, Chicago...you can't get any closer!)

I Got this post from my friend Kate Lillis, who lives in Chicago, read on:

Tickets to Grant Park were hard to come by and my roommate, Aruna, and I ended up on the waitlist. I assured Aruna that ticket or no ticket, I was going to join the masses and get as close to the action as possible but ok, yes, first we could party hop. Common and Talib Kweli were hosting an election party at the Hard Rock Café and Aruna’s friend Paraisia knew the right people to get us on the list. We were feeling pretty cool as we waited in line in our high heel boots and cute tops in the 70-something degree weather (very rare this time of the year!). But we waited…and waited…and realized that 8pm was quickly approaching and getting in after this time meant paying $20. We are a group of law students and underemployed young adults who are willing to pay money on beer but not on admission to a swanky event. So we headed to the bar!


After a couple miller-lite (gross) and delicious steak fries we got on the “L” and shot down to Grant Park. The energy on the red-line was electric. Young people debated the best place to exit the train while Paraisia pulled us off at Monroe. Above ground we caught the current of Obama-worshipers and rode it down Michigan Avenue, over the bridge and toward Grant Park. On the way, I learned that Obama was president from a group of screaming and flailing teenage girls. We then became screaming and flailing teenage girls as we surged over the bridge in the direction of our new leader.


We, along with the hundred or so people that crossed the bridge with us, bumped dumbfounded into the green fence surrounding Grant Park, stood on our tippy-toes to try to catch a glimpse of The Man and then collectively realized that to the left was a large screen where we were to gather and take in the spectacle.


Surely you know, with some accuracy, the history of segregation in Chicago and have a sense of the racial tension that exists here. The south side is almost entirely black and the north side is mostly white. The majority of northsiders have never set foot in the south – even in the gentrified Hyde Park where the University of Chicago is located and Barack Obama resides – simply out of fear. There is nothing melting-pot-esque about Chicago but rather it is defined by its delineated and ethnically uniform neighborhoods.


So you will understand how momentous it was to chant YES WE CAN pressed up next to each other, a sea of immigrants and Americans of all colors. And you will understand how powerful it was to see black children sitting on their parents’ shoulders waving small American flags at Obama on the big screen. To my immediate left were Nigerians and to my immediate right were an elderly white woman and Mexican family. We could all see something of ourselves in this truly global citizen on the screen. We smiled, welled up, shouted and believed in unison. I expected at least something to go wrong or some kind of riot to happen. I mean, come on, there were hundreds of thousands of people. But nothing did. On the contrary, people were gracious, friendly and so positive. I was – as my facebook status accurately noted – proud and thrilled. Not only to be a Chicagoan (transplant) but to be an American.


After Obama’s speech, we rode the current of Chicagoans down Jackson street to the blue-line where by some miracle we were able to catch the first train back to Wicker Park, our neighborhood on the northside. Once inside the apartment, we ripped off our stupid heels, let our poor throbbing feet come back to life, and watched the speech for a second time on CNN.