I do not get up early. This is the first sunrise I have seen in months.

But the whole sunrise thing feels appropriate this a.m., since the reason I’m up at an ungodly hour is to stand in line outside the Memorial Coliseum, hoping I’ll be able to get in to hear Obama speak.

Getting in turns out to be a non-issue—despite the rush on tickets when they were announced, they either undersold the venue or some ticket holders just didn’t show. But outside, waiting, we didn’t know that yet; unlike some fancy-pants Mercury people I could name, I didn’t pull the press card to get in. No, readers—you see, my place is among the people.

Turns out I don’t really like the people.

Look, I get it: Having a bunch of politically-minded people milling around in one place with nothing else to do is an irresistible opportunity for activists and petitioners of all stripes--from the crazy guy screaming about impeachment at the top of his lungs while menacingly brandishing a putter to the beleaguered girl from the Oregon Center for Christian Values. ("I believe that poverty, health care, and the environment are Christian moral values," reads the mail-in card she hands to me. Because my wit is roughly as sharp as a marble, I don't think until 15 minutes later to ask her why "equality" wasn't a moral value. Oooh! Snap! Or it would have been. Right?!)

But between the people wanting signatures for their petition about having an open primary to the seemingly inexhaustible flood of Steve Novick supporters (all wearing "Hooked on Novick" shirts, and one woman, depressingly, offering a bribe of hot coffee to anyone who would put on a Novick sticker), standing in line to get in to the Coliseum is less like... well, standing in line, and more like receiving suitors or something. Everybody who approaches you wants something from you, and sometimes they're cool about leaving you alone and sometimes they're annoying, but none of them seem to realize it's entirely too fucking early to be signing petitions or pretending to be interested in what they were saying. Even if, as previously noted, a disproportionate number of the women who're making sure we're all registered to vote are pretty hot. (Like, seriously hot. The guy activists are, across the board, goofy as shit, though. But maybe those dudes have just figured out that political volunteering is a pretty solid angle if you're a goofy-looking guy*.)

My first thought about the line--which stretches from the front doors of the Coliseum to the opposite side of the Rose Garden--is that I haven't seen this many people lined up this early for anything unless they were carrying toy lightsabers and/or wearing homemade Samwise Gamgee costumes. But then I realize something: Political wonks are way dorkier than your average geek standing in line for Star Trek or whatever. For proof, I offer two T-shirts and one button.

T-shirt #1: "ROCK WITH YOUR BARACK OUT."
T-shirt #2: "got hope?"
Button #1 (Photo of Obama, American Idol font): "Vote for Barack! My American Idol."

Just FYI: If you own either of these shirts or that button, you should know that there are only two people responsible for the past eight years: You and the screaming dude with the putter. So thanks for that, guys. Now go back to making those giant goddamn papier-mâché puppets you like to carry around in protests so goddamn much.

Anyway, once inside, things normalize: I make my way down to the floor, despite some dude warning me I'll have to stand for at least three hours. I am fine with this. I scoff! I am young, and virile, and standing for hours on end is nothing to me.**

The range of people here: Everybody. A girl who's maybe eight and a boy who's maybe 10 are standing next to me, and I can only assume they are missing school for this, which is awesome.*** Old people and young people are all here, and it's Portland so it's mostly white but, importantly, it's hardly homogenized. And there seem to be a ton of people in their 20s and 30s, which can only be good. And everybody's stoked.

Once Blumenauer and Richardson start in, though, the momentum builds, and builds, and this "change" business starts to feel less like a tagline and more like--dare we dream?--an actual possibility, and by the time Obama begins, forget about it--everybody goes crazy, and justifiably so. Yesterday, a friend and I were emailing about Obama, and he wrote of him, "Have we ever had a 'great man' in national politics during our lifetime? I thought that was just an anachronistic conceit." By the time Obama finishes, that idea doesn't feel nearly as outdated as one would expect.

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*Lesson learned. I'd like to take this opportunity to inform you that I've accepted an invitation to volunteer for the Oregon Center for Christian Values! Soon, this goofy-looking guy will be hitting it off with more self-righteous homophobic chicks than he can count! Ka-ching!

**My back hurts.

***My parents took me out of grade school once to see then-President George Bush, Sr. land in Air Force One at the Salt Lake City Airport one year. Seeing Obama speak is significantly cooler than that. These children are already far cooler than I will ever be.