Ms. Perez Goes to Washington Part 3

Experiences Behind Opened Doors

I half expected to see at least one Senator. But they were in session. Well, at least Job Lieberman was. He stood speaking before his colleagues on the TV screen in the office of Senator Akaka. I slowly pushed the heavy glass door open and waited for the receptionist to end her phone call. Meanwhile another woman entered the office. Yes there would be two people from the Aloha State expressing concern about the Health Care Reform Bill. Me and Tish.

“May I help you?”

“I’m Valerie Perez, from the Big Island. I’m here to express my concerns about the Health Care Reform Bill and would like to speak to Senator Akaka.”

“He’s not in.” A long silence ensued. Was that it?

When it became apparent I wasn't turning to leave, she added, “You can leave him a note.” But she offered no pen or paper. Did it have to be this difficult? I could be on the other side of the Capitol yelling, “Nannnnn--cy, Nannnnn--cy” trying to make the speaker cry.

I scrawled a note, as neat as I could (not very). When I was just about finished, a young Hawaiian came out and greeted us. He confirmed the reason for our visit and then offered to find a staffer who would take our concerns. I imagined the conversation.

“Who wants to entertain a couple of old ladies who got some issues with the Health Care Reform.”

“Health Care? The House hasn’t even passed anything yet. Did they come all the way from Hawaii?”

“I assume so. Heads, I go. Tails, you go talk some sense into them.”

When I mentioned rationing to the young whippersnapper staffer, named Matt, he said, “What do you think happens under Medicare. Don’t you like Medicare?” Excuse me? Are you serious? It wastes billions of dollars annually. Am I suppose to like that and use that as an acceptable model for this Bill, making rationing okay? He tried to lecture. We didn’t come for no stinking lecture. Shut up and listen. You work for me.

The whole meeting went that way. He interrupted us, we interrupted him and he couldn’t get us out fast enough. In the end, I slowly gathered my coat, camera and backpack. He was at the other end of the hallway holding the door open. Body language: Get Out of Here. They learn to drink the Kool-Aid early.

It went a little better in Senator Inouye’s office, a two floored penthouse arrangement also in the Hart Building. At least the receptionists didn’t object to being in the photo I took of the office. The staffer Michelle was polite, took notes and then asked us specific questions. “How do you feel about the soda tax?” Don’t like, but boy could I use a soda right now.

I was tired and thirsty. It began to rain. I made my way back to the Longworth building to catch up with Maize Hirono, my Congresswomen. I’ve emailed her at least three times about this bill and never got a response, not even a form acknowledgment. The long lines that earlier wrapped around the building were gone. Coming through security someone asked, “Is it raining?” I wiped off my glasses, “Only on one side of the Capitol.” She laughed.

Of course, Maize wasn’t available either. The staffer seemed confused by my presence. She didn’t invite me into the office and ran out of the office after instructing me to sign in. Moments later a prim women entered with legal pad in hand. She introduced herself and sat down at the little table in the entrance way. She didn’t offer me a seat so I asked if I could. “Sure, sure,” she waved dismissing my request as if it was ludicrous. The conversation was rushed and brief. A few notes and three minutes later I dismissed as ludicrous. Oh boy.

By now I was starving. The halls were empty. Most of the riffraff gone. I walked listening to my shoes echo in the vacant corridors. I noticed the offices all had signs that welcomed visitors to enter. Since I was here and I use to write Zack Wamp when I was in Tennessee I decide to visit his office. It was getting close to 4:30 and I had to be back on the bus by 6PM. I knew Union Station wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes. I wasn’t going to sit in the train station for 90 minutes.

I opened the door to the Honorable Wamp’s office. “Hi, is that Zack guy here?” Gone were the formalities. I figured if I acted like we were old buddies, I might get to shake his hand and thank him for his support. When I wrote him, criticisms or compliments, I got a response. After explaining I was no longer his constituent, the receptionist offered to show me his office and let me take a photo, but someone was in there having a meeting. So in lieu, she offered me a pass to the House Gallery. Are you kidding me? I can get in there and see IN GOD WE TRUST right over the flag behind the Speaker’s seat? Hell yeah, but time was limited. I thanked her for the pass and bolted across the street to the Capitol. (My feet were beginning to kill me.)

That’s where I lost my lunch. “Ma’am, you can’t take bottles or food into the building.” The guard smiled, but was firm.

“But I haven’t eaten all day.” I protested.

“Go outside and eat.” I was hungry but running out of time. No time to eat. I didn’t want to get to the station right at 6 PM. I needed time to find the bus, at least fifteen minutes. I gulped some water and crammed the bagel into my mouth. Standing in line again for security I looked like a chipmunk. Chew, chew, chew, swallow.

“Next?” The security guard commanded.

I stepped forward, tossed my backpack, the one I took to Micronesia and have not washed since, onto the conveyor. Swallow. Chew. Swallow. I walked through the metal detector to find a guard rooting around my bag. Crap, he’s going to drop my watch into the bowls of the pack and I’ll have to find it. Need to keep track of time. He found my cough drops, examined them, but let them pass.

Still before entering the maze of hallways leading to the Galley you must check all bags, cameras, personal items, etc.. I knew this. Once done, I followed signs, roped aisles and hallways to my destination. I passed a guard and asked, “Do I come out this way?” Yes, and I’ll be here waiting to be sure you do.” Yikes, I'm lost.

Destination. I turned the corner and found myself walking a decorative tile floor under ached ceiling and entrance ways. I slowed down. I sensed something special. It was quiet because I was there alone with the final security guard and yet another metal detector. I waited to be asked to come forward. Then the heavy door was opened to me and I stood looking directly across from IN GOD WE TRUST. I almost cried.

I prayed. I could have sat there for hours. Not entranced by the proceedings of a thinly occupied room below me, but by the room itself. The place of debate. Great Speeches. Call to action. Decision. Compromise. Agreement. The place of taxes, partisan politics and “you lie”. The place where life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness should be protected.

I looked on as HR 1849 went to electronic vote. The usher asked me if I had any questions. “A million, but I have run out of time.” I want to come back. I stood to leave but noticed the state seals on the ceiling. I hesitated and the usher told me I had to sit back down if I wished to stay in the Gallery. “ I’m sorry. I got captivated by the surroundings.” He smiled and told me I could learn more about the room on line. By the time I left 18 Yeas and zero nays were cast.

I walked toward Union Station in the early twilight. I turned and saw the dome bathed in light. A light of freedom. A fleeting thought danced through my head. “Boy, I like to be a Congresswomen.” That vanished before I could even tell myself I was nuts.

On the bus we listened to the radio. They said a large crowd of protestors were at the Capitol today. Protestors? I didn’t protest. And despite this,”it is almost certain the House will pass the Health Care Reform Bill.”

Listen America, you are about to die a slow death.

Part 4 is coming...