Chase O'Dell: DC Ex Machina
DC is a city of routines. You wake up in the morning, thrown on your suit, make
a cup of coffee (or stop by the nearest Starbucks if you have money), run to the metro,
work until 5, drink until 7, then go home and watch the news until you go to sleep
around 10. It’s a constant cycle of wake up, work, and repeat. The city is a machine, and
it’s damn good at what it does.
It didn’t take me very long to work myself into that routine (though I was flat out broke, so I skipped the coffee and the drinking). Still, every morning I found myself throwing on a suit and making my way from Foggy Bottom to the Rayburn House Office Building like I was just another cog in this machine we call Washington. The routine was comfortable. I learned to enjoy the crowded metro ride to the Hill every morning, especially when I was able to snag a free copy of the Washington Post left behind by some faceless man in a much nicer suit than mine. It became my ritual, my way of truly fitting in to the city. In short, I felt like I belonged there, and when you’re alone in a new city, that feeling is invaluable.
The problem with routine, though, is that it distracts you from the things that don’t fit into your pattern. That’s why I didn’t notice the extra police at the metro station at Foggy Bottom. That’s why I didn’t notice that I was able to find an empty seat on the train despite the fact that it was morning rush hour. That’s why I didn’t think twice about the security guards in the elevator talking about some incident on a baseball field in Arlington. In fact, it wasn’t until I walked into the office and saw everyone running around panicking that I noticed something was off. I remember looking up at the TV and seeing Fox News saying something about baseball. I turned to my boss, Thomas, and asked what was going on.
“There’s been a shooting.”
No one I knew got hurt during the incident. The Congressman had been there, but Thomas had picked him up for a meeting well before the incident started. The Republican members of Congress had been practicing for their annual Congressional baseball game against the Democrats, and a disgruntled man had decided to take his frustration out with bullets. Several people were injured, but, luckily, the only person who died was the shooter himself. Still, my apartment was a five minute drive from the field where they were practicing, and that was terrifying. I was never in any real danger, but that didn’t stop me from feeling scared.
My fiancee, Meg, and my Mom were not aware that I was never in any real danger, so I, of course, received several calls from them as they made sure that I wasn’t dead. My Mom, in particular, took a lot of convincing. I guess hearing my voice from the other end of the phone wasn’t enough to confirm that I was, in fact, still breathing. The other interns in the office were doing the same thing as I was, but the full time staff of the office was decidedly less concerned. They were busy, of course, since every journalist from around the country was cold-calling Congressional offices trying to get a quote, but none of them seemed scared. One guy was even walking the Congressman through what he should and shouldn’t say in front of the press like it was just another story.
By noon, we were inundated with calls about gun control. You’d think the general public would give some space to a man who was just involved in a shooting, but, no, people called the office demanding that the Congressman either stand up for our second amendment rights or push for stronger gun control. A few conspiracy theorists called suggesting that the Congressman look into whether or not the Democrats paid the shooter to target the Republicans. One lady called to make sure he was alright and offer a prayer for the people who were injured.
It’s easy to think that Congress is constantly at each other’s throats when you read the news. Republicans are refusing to do so-and-so, the Democrats are responsible for such-and-such. When you’re on the Hill, though, you realize that a lot of the public perception of the partisanship is false. When the Congressman aren’t on the floor, they joke around and eat lunch together. I never felt any animosity from either side of the political spectrum until the public started calling in about guns. It’s a hot issue, and I understand that, but it really showed me how the public’s perception of politics isn’t exactly the truth.
At around 4, I received another phone call. I answered the phone like I always did, cheerily, but inside I knew I was about to deal with yet another person screaming at me about gun rights. Instead, I heard a man ask for the Congressman personally.
“May I ask who’s calling?” I said.
“This is Speaker Ryan.”
I don’t know what went on in that conversation, but I do know that when it was over, the Congressman came out and addressed the office. He prayed with us, assured us of our safety, and made it clear that we had the full protection of the United States Congress. Shortly after, Paul Ryan and Nancy Pelosi put aside their differences and delivered a joint address to the American people.
It was this moment that forced me to look past my preconceived notion of DC as a machine. I’d spent so much time trying to figure this place out, and I’d based my entire opinion on depictions of politics I’d seen on House of Cards, and Veep. I’d tried to be part of the machine, a cog, if you will, but I’d only succeeded in creating a reality for myself that wasn’t necessarily true. DC is a machine, but it isn’t soulless. There are real people there, and a lot of them actually do care about the people they serve. This idea of a dog-eat-dog society fueled by reckless ambition and Machiavellianism that I convinced myself was the truth wound up making me miss the humanity that existed around me. Still, I came to this realization early enough to change my patterns. DC may be city of routines, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change mine a little bit. So, I started taking time to listen to the people around me, and I stopped treating everything like it was some kind of partisan competition.
Chase O'Dell is a graduating senior with a B.A. in English, and member of the Lander University Honors College.
It didn’t take me very long to work myself into that routine (though I was flat out broke, so I skipped the coffee and the drinking). Still, every morning I found myself throwing on a suit and making my way from Foggy Bottom to the Rayburn House Office Building like I was just another cog in this machine we call Washington. The routine was comfortable. I learned to enjoy the crowded metro ride to the Hill every morning, especially when I was able to snag a free copy of the Washington Post left behind by some faceless man in a much nicer suit than mine. It became my ritual, my way of truly fitting in to the city. In short, I felt like I belonged there, and when you’re alone in a new city, that feeling is invaluable.
The problem with routine, though, is that it distracts you from the things that don’t fit into your pattern. That’s why I didn’t notice the extra police at the metro station at Foggy Bottom. That’s why I didn’t notice that I was able to find an empty seat on the train despite the fact that it was morning rush hour. That’s why I didn’t think twice about the security guards in the elevator talking about some incident on a baseball field in Arlington. In fact, it wasn’t until I walked into the office and saw everyone running around panicking that I noticed something was off. I remember looking up at the TV and seeing Fox News saying something about baseball. I turned to my boss, Thomas, and asked what was going on.
“There’s been a shooting.”
***
No one I knew got hurt during the incident. The Congressman had been there, but Thomas had picked him up for a meeting well before the incident started. The Republican members of Congress had been practicing for their annual Congressional baseball game against the Democrats, and a disgruntled man had decided to take his frustration out with bullets. Several people were injured, but, luckily, the only person who died was the shooter himself. Still, my apartment was a five minute drive from the field where they were practicing, and that was terrifying. I was never in any real danger, but that didn’t stop me from feeling scared.
My fiancee, Meg, and my Mom were not aware that I was never in any real danger, so I, of course, received several calls from them as they made sure that I wasn’t dead. My Mom, in particular, took a lot of convincing. I guess hearing my voice from the other end of the phone wasn’t enough to confirm that I was, in fact, still breathing. The other interns in the office were doing the same thing as I was, but the full time staff of the office was decidedly less concerned. They were busy, of course, since every journalist from around the country was cold-calling Congressional offices trying to get a quote, but none of them seemed scared. One guy was even walking the Congressman through what he should and shouldn’t say in front of the press like it was just another story.
By noon, we were inundated with calls about gun control. You’d think the general public would give some space to a man who was just involved in a shooting, but, no, people called the office demanding that the Congressman either stand up for our second amendment rights or push for stronger gun control. A few conspiracy theorists called suggesting that the Congressman look into whether or not the Democrats paid the shooter to target the Republicans. One lady called to make sure he was alright and offer a prayer for the people who were injured.
It’s easy to think that Congress is constantly at each other’s throats when you read the news. Republicans are refusing to do so-and-so, the Democrats are responsible for such-and-such. When you’re on the Hill, though, you realize that a lot of the public perception of the partisanship is false. When the Congressman aren’t on the floor, they joke around and eat lunch together. I never felt any animosity from either side of the political spectrum until the public started calling in about guns. It’s a hot issue, and I understand that, but it really showed me how the public’s perception of politics isn’t exactly the truth.
At around 4, I received another phone call. I answered the phone like I always did, cheerily, but inside I knew I was about to deal with yet another person screaming at me about gun rights. Instead, I heard a man ask for the Congressman personally.
“May I ask who’s calling?” I said.
“This is Speaker Ryan.”
I don’t know what went on in that conversation, but I do know that when it was over, the Congressman came out and addressed the office. He prayed with us, assured us of our safety, and made it clear that we had the full protection of the United States Congress. Shortly after, Paul Ryan and Nancy Pelosi put aside their differences and delivered a joint address to the American people.
It was this moment that forced me to look past my preconceived notion of DC as a machine. I’d spent so much time trying to figure this place out, and I’d based my entire opinion on depictions of politics I’d seen on House of Cards, and Veep. I’d tried to be part of the machine, a cog, if you will, but I’d only succeeded in creating a reality for myself that wasn’t necessarily true. DC is a machine, but it isn’t soulless. There are real people there, and a lot of them actually do care about the people they serve. This idea of a dog-eat-dog society fueled by reckless ambition and Machiavellianism that I convinced myself was the truth wound up making me miss the humanity that existed around me. Still, I came to this realization early enough to change my patterns. DC may be city of routines, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change mine a little bit. So, I started taking time to listen to the people around me, and I stopped treating everything like it was some kind of partisan competition.
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| Democratic Congressional Baseball Team Members kneel in prayer after hearing about the incident at the Republican Congressional Baseball Team practice. |
Chase O'Dell is a graduating senior with a B.A. in English, and member of the Lander University Honors College.