A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to volunteer at the DNC in Charlotte, NC. It was a great experience. Since so many people have asked me about it, here is my take.
Since returning from my volunteer week at the Democratic
National Convention in Charlotte a couple weeks ago, I’ve had several people
ask me which famous people I saw and if I got to attend President Obama’s
acceptance speech that Thursday night. The shifts I worked were doing very
basic things. Instead of seeing inside the stadiums and buildings where the
speeches, parties and other Convention activities happened, I answered
questions and welcomed people to the DNC. Though not very glamorous, I liked the
experience I had quite a lot.
On my first shift I answered phones with about 10 others at
the DNC hotline about parking downtown, bus schedule changes, street closings
and the lineup of Monday night’s outdoor concert to kick off the convention. We
were a business owner, a Vietnam Veteran, an assistant principal, a waitress
and a few retirees and me. When the phone wasn’t ringing we had a spirited
discussion about religion, John Edwards and North Carolina politics, our
families at home, our hometowns and trips we’ve taken or would like to take.
Tuesday and Wednesday mornings I was in the same place: the
Dunhill Hotel, a beautiful, old hotel in downtown Charlotte on Tryon Street,
one of downtown’s busiest thoroughfares. At 7 a.m. when I was walking from the
light rail station to the Dunhill things were pretty quiet. I’d see police
officers and security guards at their posts, a few employees of some of the
downtown businesses that were still running who were headed into work, and a
few Convention-goers who were venturing out of their hotels to find breakfast
and coffee. Things didn’t liven up until mid-morning.
The Dunhill was an overflow hotel for delegates from
Colorado and Louisiana, and home for the week for musicians playing at some of
the delegate parties, media and a few celebrities and Convention notables (I
understand Jessica Alba was staying there, and I spoke briefly with Planned
Parenthood CEO Cecile Richards). I met NC Senator Kay
Hagan and helped NC Representative Brad Miller think about where he could get
another pair of dress shoes (he’d only brought one pair and hadn’t counted on
doing quite so much walking).
I found I was the most useful standing outside on the
sidewalk with the doorman and answering questions there. This turned out to be
the best thing, because I got to see and hear things I never would have
otherwise.
I saw schoolchildren and college students on field trips to
see the Convention first-hand, people of presumably all income levels, people
selling DNC and Obama buttons, and trucks driving by painted with verbiage
protesting various acts and political beliefs. I saw Charlotte natives who were
grouchy about sharing their downtown with all the Convention attendees, and
those who were so excited to be a part of the Convention that they couldn’t
stop smiling. Across the street were a bunch of Secret Service members who inspected
each car that had the credentials to come through the roadblock. They searched
the cars in pairs, sometimes with a German Shepherd.
When I finished my shift I walked down College Street, which
was where all the activity really was. Protesters and advocates of nearly every
group you could think of were there. People moved on the sidewalks quickly from
one building to another to attend Convention events. Street vendors sold Obama
T-shirts and more buttons. Secret Service agents searched vehicles and police
officers directed traffic. The atmosphere was bustling and exciting.
Many of the intersections in downtown Charlotte needed a
police officer to help direct the traffic patterns, changed up to handle extra flow
during the Convention. Groups of police officers from all over the Southeast
helped the Charlotte Police Department, patrolling the downtown with their
coworkers on foot or by car, motorcycle or horse. A group of officers from
Clayton County, Georgia, were at the two intersections closest to my volunteer
post, and they entertained drivers and pedestrians with dance moves performed
while safely directing cars and people through the intersections. Crowds would
gather as an officer would direct traffic while doing the dance from Michael
Jackson’s “Thriller” video or Saturday
Night Fever. Some would give high-fives to drivers whose windows were
rolled down as they went by. Some posed for pictures with pedestrians. All of
them had a great time, and so did the onlookers.
While I watched the speeches from my sister’s living room in
Charlotte, the experience I had at the Democratic Convention was memorable. I
was able to see people who were both notable and ordinary, with lots of money
and with little money, from all parts of the country that were there to do all
kinds of jobs from voting on President Obama’s nomination to playing a guitar
for those who cast those votes. I saw Charlotte residents who hosted happily,
whether than meant city workers who walked around downtown with a broom and
dustpan sweeping up trash, the officers who kept the event safe, and the
restaurant workers who kept all the Convention-goers fed and full of coffee. It
meant seeing the people in expensive, well-made suits and seeing the people who
were in need of clean, well-fitting clothes, as well as likely a job and a
home.
My favorite part of the Democratic National Convention had
nothing to do with politics at all. Experiencing the people, not as much as the
politics, was what made this week the most fun for me.
