Last Tuesday was my last day in LA. It felt surreal in a matter of hours everything about my life would be different. I packed my bags, shaved, and got all of my last minute things together before going out for my last Double-Double. This is the final push before I set off. I wish I could fast forward through this because as I am already feeling anxious and want to be in DC already.
My brother picked me up and we had Argentine food before heading out to LAX. After our good byes, I made my way to the luggage check and $160 later I had my boarding pass and was on my way to the terminal. No turning back now. I found a seat near my terminal and began to read as I listened to my Ipod. This was a weird flight. I felt paranoid, as if everyone around me was looking at me. I was alone. The police began to walk in my direction. I stared. They approached the black man next to me, asked him to follow them, he never returned. Thirty minutes later the same officers returned, scanned the room, and snatched up a white woman sitting a few rows ahead of me. I was curious because I couldn’t see any common thread between this older black man and this young white woman or why the officers would ‘randomly’ remove them from my terminal. I went to the store, bought some snacks and water, and prepared to board my flight.
I didn’t rest on my flight. I read “In Defense of the Bush Doctrine” and listened to music on my Ipod. I landed in North Carolina, trekked across the airport, and waited for my connecting flight to DC. I arrived in DC jet lagged and hungry. My cousin Hansel picked me up and we went back to his place. I was tired but had to muster the energy to start looking for apartments. I hopped onto Craigslist and immediately began emailing people for summer sublets. Unfortunately I faced roadblocks… most decent places only wanted to rent to females or they expected me to find my own replacement tenant. This should be interesting…
I found a place. I was so excited. This was a large room in a house with two girls. Unfortunately the gusto of having found an apartment was short lived. The room offer was rescinded once they found a female roommate. I felt discouraged. I replied to another promising advertisement on Craigslist. This place made me feel even worse. A man named Memo Cruz was renting out his studio, or so I thought. Memo actually hoped to share his studio, which was the size of my bedroom in LA plus a small kitchenette and bathroom. Memo had almost no possessions. He had a bed, a small card table, two metal fold out chairs, and a radio. No A/C. This place might be doable for one person but for two people it was a little cramped. Memo was a man in his 60’s. He was looking for a roommate because he was falling behind on his rent. He could not find a job and was now one month late on his $600 per month rent. I wanted to leave as soon as I knew the score. Memo wouldn’t let me. He explained his situation further. I asked if he had kids or relatives who could help. He didn’t. His kids were living in South America and his only sibling was a nun. He was depending on a renter to help. I felt depressed. Memo offered me a beer and wanted to talk. I wanted to leave. I was so happy that the Laker game was scheduled, I excused myself from Memo’s apartment, and began to head back to Virginia to watch it. My walk through the neighborhood adjacent to the DC convention center was sobering. At the last minute I decided to stop by my new work place, I wanted to make sure that I knew how to get there.
I decided t walk around a bit before heading to Virginia. I thought about how lucky I was to have close friends who had my back. Capitol Hill is beautiful. I took a few photos on my cell phone. I strolled around. Taking it all in, all I could think about was that if things went well in DC, this experience could possibly set my life on a whole new course. It began to rain. The weather is hot and muggy. The rain felt good.
As I stood on the steps of the Rayburn building, facing the statue of The Majesty of the Law, I got emotional. This was a big moment in my crazy life. I grew up poor. I once shared a house with 15 other people. No one gave me a chance at life, I took it. Now I stood on the steps of the Rayburn building facing the nation’s capitol and preparing myself for the days to come. I was in awe. What am I doing here? The nerd in me is excited. There is so much historical significance within the hallways of these buildings. Decisions affecting the world are made here. I am just a kid from Pacoima.
I once lived in a garage with my brother, not because it was cool, but because it was one step up from a homeless shelter. There was a point in my life when I only had three dollars per day to eat food with. I remember eating nothing but dollar menu items from Jack in the Box. There was a point in my life when I actually had a survival plan in the event that I became homeless. There were many days as a child and even in my early adult life when I went to bed hungry. I cannot help but question my life. Question my ambitions. Question my goals. Question my purpose. I am certain that few if any of my new peers will have experienced anything close to my life. I am now staring down barrel of my future. This is life seen through the eyes of some poor soul from the hood. The ride back to Hansel’s house felt different. I quietly listened to my ipod and thought about all this.
Day 1 Monday This is wild son…nothing I see or do can be spoken of…
I didn’t get much sleep. I woke up throughout the night. I was scared I would be late for my train to work. I got out of bed, got ready, and walked to the Dunn-Loring metro station. I was blasting Shyne on my Ipod. I’m in a suit, shades on, bobbing my head as I stood on the train. Everyone else was reading the morning newspapers: Politico, The Post, etc. and here I am listening to gangsta rap. It is amazing how many people work in DC. We are all little ants, marching in formation, through the train station, up the escalator, and in various lines to our respective buildings. There are hundreds of people marching to work. As I enter the building I cannot help but wonder what I will encounter. Will my new colleagues be nice? What if they don’t like me? Healthy paranoia…I can’t help it. I am nervous. I tell myself that I earned it. I locked myself in the study dungeon for the last year. I worked like a beast so that I could reach my full potential as a student. I bring a life experience that most people don’t understand. My guess is that most of the interns in the building have never been shot at, never been harassed by the police because they fit a description, or never had guns drawn on them by police because they looked suspicious. These thoughts raced through my mind as I made my way through the security line and up to my new office.
I knocked on the door, entered, and met my fate. Today is my first day as a DC intern.
