Cabot Center

Shrill female voice: «What’s the color of shit!!!»
Crowd: «BROWN!»
This charming chant was one of the first things I heard as I was dropped off into the mobscene that had enveloped around Northeastern University. I was visiting from Austin and decided to see if I could see Obama speak; totally last minute decision. This review is about the scene held outside the Cabot Center for Martha Coakley when President Obama was set to appear to stump on her behalf.
Jen had gone home for a nap; I was on my own to brave a Massachusetts political rally.
Walking down the street, most people were peacefully holding their Coakley or Brown signs. I walked by a group of women who were singing a beautiful choral piece and holding a large poster. Upon closer inspection, the poster was Obama with a Hitler mustache. I did not make eye contact. I kept moving.
Crossing the street, I ended up on the corner near the Cabot Center caddy corner from Qdobe Mexican Grill. I asked an older couple where Obama would be and they said the place was packed. Fine, I’d settle for a glimpse of him. I mentioned I was from Austin, and the woman looked at me, scowled angrily and spat: «Are you even A VOTER?!» I wanted to say «No, bitch, as a matter of fact, in this state, I’m not… but Obama is my President too», but I just said «No.»
A girl next to me who overheard, in all seriousness, asked me if I had travelled all the way from Austin for this event. Again, I wanted to say «Yes! Of course I did, crazy broad! Who wouldn’t travel halfway across the country to stand in the freezing cold to watch people in a totally different state scream at each other???»; but again I simply said «No, I’m visiting a friend in Boston.»
The word «Masshole» had never even come up in my head all the times I’ve been in the state. Until then. It stung, but I still love Massachusetts.
I stood with my thumb up my ass on the corner, ignoring the angry men screaming about al Qaeda or the increasingly juvenile chants the crowd would start. A seven year old who had climbed up a lamp post was expounding upon policy issues and the superiority of Scott Brown to a man standing next to him, as if he were a 40-​year old political scientist trapped in a kid’s body. I nervously moved away from what I thought just might be a demon child.
A student from Northeastern was standing nearby, pointing out the logistics of where the President could possibly enter into the Center. This guy was very nice, and explained it was one of two places: the alley behind us, or right up front. He was very helpful and friendly. That’s probably because in the next sentence I found out he was from Connecticut and he didn’t JUDGE me for wanting to see Obama. And for me not being A VOTER.
An hour went by, and common sense told me there’s no way security would allow Obama to be dropped off around all these hot messes. So I inched closer to the alley as I saw Secret Service cars station themselves on the street. First came the helicopters, then the police, and then there it was: Obama’s limo. He got out, and even though he was far away, I was only two people away from the only chance of actually seeing him at that corner. He waved. I waved and cheered back, and that was it. An hour of Massachusetts VOTER insanity for me to see the Leader of the Free World.
This Austinite hightailed it out of there and headed back on foot to Boylston.
Totally worth it.