For photos of my trip, go to facebook.com, make yourself an account (you don't need to add any details at all), search for me and add me as a freind. I'll confirm you, and then you can see the photos.

It'll take too long to post all 120 photos here, sorry!

This update is not chronological, I have included it here because this day's entry is my favorite.

7 / 26 / 07

Yesterday afternoon I finished the final Harry Potter book, which I enjoyed immensely. After finishing it, I had expected to fall asleep earlier than I had the last two nights, but I didn't. After 2 or 2:30, I finally got to sleep, and I woke up groggy.

At work, I was a door Page for the first time. This meant that I waited outside the chamber doors nearest the Speaker's righthand side until Congress was ready to come into session. Then I and another Page pushed through one of the double doors each, and then walked around holding them open as the Speaker ( In this case, as usual, it was a Speaker Pro Temp, not Nancy Pelosi herself), the parliamentarians and some sort of officer, perhaps the sergeant-at-arms, walked through. The officer carried the Speaker's Mace, an object which symbolizes the Speaker of the House's authority. It is maybe four feet long, black and silver with metal strips spiraling in opposite directions up the handel. It is capped by a metal eagle, wings spread wide, perched on a globe.

As we held the doors, we were to look up at the clock on in the gallery high across the camber, opposite the Speaker's rostrum. Once the procession was through, we let the doors close and stood in front of them as the morning prayer and the pledge of allegiance commenced.

As the call "please be seated!" rang through the chamber, we walked back to the Page desk in the back of the chamber.

the thing that makes this exciting is that the whole processes is filmed by the C-SPAN cameras in the chamber, and is put on the air live. It is one moment when a Page can be front and center on TV in the House chamber.

Being on TV was exciting, but suprizingly I didn't get nervous at all; I was encouraged that looking into a camera (that's why we looked at the clock; the cameras were mounted in the gallery) from which quite a few people (not that many, this is C-SPAN, but nonetheless) were watching didn't cause me stagefright.

The rest of the day was enjoyable but fairly uneventful. When 5:15 came around, I switched to the jobs I would be working for the late-night shift, statements and runner. Half the time I would be working statements, half the time I would do runs.

Running is the principle duty of a Page. It consists of taking the incoming requests from the Page desk, traveling through the intricate tunnels and halls of the Capitol complex to find the office that requested a delivery, then taking whatever it is through the complex again to wherever they want it taken. This is the crux Page life, and gives an excellent opportunity to learn the way around the Capitol. There are two main skills which must be learned in order to master doing runs in the Capitol. One is understanding the designation system for Capitol offices. Every room in the complex has number, and sometimes a few letters in front of it, and there is a code of sorts for locating the room referenced. For example, room 2345 is the forty fifth room on the third floor of the Rayburn office building. 305 is the fifth room on the third floor of Cannon. 1265 is the sixty-fifth room on the second floor of Longworth. H206 is the sixth room on the second level of the House side of the Capitol building. Basically, if a room number is 4 digits long and starts with a "2," it's in Rayburn, if "1," Longworth. The second number designates the floor, and the last two numbers the room on the floor. If it has three digits, it's in Cannon. The first number shows the floor, the last two the room. If it is in the capitol itself, it will have a letter and then three numbers. The numbers work the same way as for the Cannon building, and the letter, either H or S, indicate wither it is House side or Senate side. Then there are some special zones of the Capitol, such as HB or HC, which you just have to know.

The second skill a Page runner must master is that of finding the most efficient path to a destination, regardless of obstacles. By nature of the intricate underground tunnel system of the Capitol, there are many ways to get from one place to another. There are subways, escalators, stairs, and elevators. During normal operation, there is no great difficulty in finding a path to any room you need, and there are members of the special Capitol police force everywhere to help if you get lost. The difficulties arise when Congressmen need to get to the House Camber. This happens most commonly when there is a vote, and it is by far the most exciting time in a Page's day. All throughout the massive complex there are speakers and special light fixtures. When there is a vote, the speaker blare an alarm, and the lights blink in a special code that indicates how long the vote is, and how much time there is left before it closes. In addition to the light fixtures, most clocks are equipped with colored bulbs around the edges of the numbers which indicate the time of the vote with the same code. This code involves the relationship between white and red lights, and I have not yet deciphered it. Frankly, I don't need to, because votes are always the same: the first one is fifteen minutes long, and any following are two minutes long. The vote never closes based on time anyway; they keep accepting votes on the first one until all members have voted. But I digress. When the "bell" (the loudspeakers) calls for attendance in the house, all elevators and subways become "members only," and everyone else has to find a way to get around without them. This is easy enough to do if you know where the stairs are, and can find way to circumvent the subway lines. This obviously involves more walking and climbing, but is also an interesting time to be in the hallways, because everyone, including the members, are on the move.

Now let me describe what is probably my favorite job as a Page: Statements. A Statement Page works in conjunction with the Congressional record Clerk, who prepares the Congressional Record for the following day. The Congressional record contains the entirety of the days proceedings: the debate on the floors of both cambers, the text of the bills, amendments and resolutions, and any other material which a member would like added. Most of the information for it is gathered by a team of stenographers, who sit at a table in front of the speaker's rostrum, and type everything that is said in a special kind of shorthand, using a device called a stenograph, which is a typewriter on steroids. It has fewer keys, and types not just a letter at a time, but by combinations of keys hit at the same time which indicate words. However, to get the proper spelling of names and palaces, and to ensure accuracy on facts, statistics, and dates, it is helpful to have a copy of whatever notes the congressman or woman was reading from. That's where a Statement Page comes in. Whenever the House is in session, two Pages are sitting on the floor, one on each side of the camber. Because the camber usually has only a handful of members on it ( the others can watch the debate on TV in their offices, if they wish), the Pages get to sit in the member's chairs (which are immensely comfortable). Whenever a speaker finishes talking, the statement page siting on his side of the aisle will stand up and make his way over to him, and ask if he has any notes. Usually they do, and usually they give them over. Then the page works his way up to the Record Clerk, who sits in the lowest tier of the the gigantic Speaker's dias, and hands over the notes, before returning to sit down.

It sounds very simple, but there is a trick. Everything must be done with the utmost care, because there are a million and a half obstacles which must be overcome to get from one place to the next. First, the C-SPAN cameras. Whenever the House is in session, there are camera's filming it, and statement pages are supposed to stay out of the picture at all times. To do this, the page must walk at least two rows behind the podiums, must not approach from the side of a member who just spoke if the next speaker is using the adjacent podium, and must stay out of the "well" (the area at the foot of the Rostrum, where two of the Podiums are, and where the Record Clerk sits) if anyone is using either of the Podiums in it, or if the Speaker is talking (and the speaker talks between every oration on the floor). The second obstacle is etiquette. A page may never walk through a row of seats if a member is siting in one of them, and must not get in a member's way in the aisle, or interrupt a member's conversation, or stand irritatingly close to a member if they ask to wait a moment before giving their notes. Also, a page is not to speak to a member if they appear to be listening to the current speaker, and to avoid going up or down the middle aisle.

This is a very exciting job, because while working statements, one can sit in the comfy chairs on the floor and get a perfect view of the members as they speak, and get to talk to them when asking for a statement. It is relaxing enough, but keeps you on your toes, because while it's not vital to get the notes, it is important to make an effort, and if you lose yourself in the debate, it's easy to forget to ask for the statements. Throughout the time while a page is on the floor, he or she can silently communicate with the Record Clerk if unsure wither to interrupt a conversation, or to indicate that a member did not have any notes.

So those were the jobs I worked tonight. At some point during the evening, I had taken a break from statements with Keith filling in for me. Unbeknownst to me, while I was gone a congressman had asked Keith to set up an easel and a chart for him. Keith did this, but shortly afterward an intern told Keith that he needed the easel, and that he would put everything back. He left the easel but didn't return the charts (it is unclear to me if Keith had already put the charts up before the intern said he would put everything back or not, but at any rate Keith thought that the intern was going to put everything up as it should be.) and before the intern's congressman had  left, I took over for Keith again. When the intern's congressman finished speaking, I assumed that he left the easel by mistake, and wondered if somebody would take it down before the next speaker used the podium (this was the well podium on the democratic side). When the congressman who had spoken to Keith  stood up and gestured at the easel in  my direction, I though he was indicating that I should remove it, so I stood up and took the easel off as he began his (televised, remember!) speech.

I sat down and thought the congressman might be looking at me as he gestured during his speech, but I didn't know what to do, and thought that I was probably imagining things anyway.

At this point Keith arrived having sprinted full tilt from the republican side. He charging up the aisle, almost running me and my chair over. Incoherent, he blabbered and whispered, somehow conveying to me that I needed to get the posters up, get the posters up! He was desperately panicy, and I didn't know what was going on, so we briefly sallied pleas back and forth for the other person to put them up. Somehow never seeming to come to a rest even while we talked, we made a crazed dash to the posters and easel. I seized the easel and set it in the well while trying to look professional and self assured. It was backwards and Keith exploded under his breath. I spun it and walked out of the well and off camera. I assume Keith put the posters up, but I wasn't looking, and the Congressman's speech ended about three seconds later anyway. I walked back and sat down in a seat to continue doing statements, but I was extremely shaken. I could see the congressman was mad, and I was frightened of reprisal. If I had been thinking about it, I would have realized that Keith was probably more affected by this than me, as he likely felt responsible. However I didn't think about it, and I asked Keith to work statements so that I could take a break. All that was in my mind was that Keith was the statements sub, and that I really wanted to step out for a while. Keith did not seem to want to do it, but his apologetic feelings for me seemed to overpower his embarrassment, and he did it.

While I was gone, it seems Keith apologized to the congressman, who, although displeased, forgave him, saying that these things happen. I came back and took over for Keith for the rest of the night.

If nothing else, it certainly was an interesting experience, and I'm glad remembering the panic and desperation is humorous to me now, and that Keith, although also embarrassed, seems OK with it as well. We have talked about it, and decided that, connivently, the intern is to blame, so that we never have to meet the responsible party again.                                                                                                                                                                

Bloody intern.

Meeting a handful of teenagers on the dorm's front steps, I was first struck by how similar they seemed to me. Not in personality or appearance, I mean that I had somehow expected Congressional Pages to run laps around me in knowledge and character. I had expected to be a dwarf here, shrunken and inferior. It seemed so far that my admittedly foolish fears were unfounded. So far the Pages were not gods among men in any way. I met Chris from LA, Miriam from Texas, and a few others, including a third from California.

After talking for a few minutes, a guard opened a double door to the dorm. I stepped though the door, dragging my rolling bag and duffel, and blinked. I had stepped into a small entry room, contained between two identical sets of strong metal-and-glass doors, both equipped with electronic card scanners. There was an eight-foot tall metal detecor and an xray conveyer belt, identical to those found at airports. Once I had forced my bags through the Xray, I found my room.

It was a very nice room, with three sets of beds, dressers, etc. It was quite big, the mattresses were comfortable, and we had our own bathroom.

I settled in, and an hour later my first roommate showed up. Jason is from Orange County California, has bleached blonde hair and the air of popularity around him. He is extremely conservative, and is outspoken about it, although politics are not his main interest, and he doesn't talk about his views much. He is a very nice person and an excellent roommate, difficult to wake up, willing to do his share of work on inspection days and both friendly and not clingy. He spends most evenings one room over with others of the popular crowd, and is nice to Keith and I, but mostly spends time with other people.

Keith, who showed up a two hours after Jason, is my second roommate. He's from North Carolina and drove here with his mother and aunt. He is also a great roommate, also very conservative, and more politically inclined than Jason. He hopes to become a senator and then president. Keith spends essentially every evening vitriolically bashing either liberals or other people in the program. He is quite self-rightous and his favorite word is hate...! Despite his hateful disposition, I like him a lot. He is very respectful of me, at least to my face, and goes out of his way to help me. Once I started talking politics with him, I discovered that his dogmatic exterior concealed a willingness to listen, to consider, and if not to consider changing his views, then at least accepting mine when we differ.

Talking with both Keith and Jason has been an excellent opportunity for me to experience a conservative viewpoint, and to test my ability to make compromises that both democrats and republicans would accept. It has been a great experience living with those two, and I don't think I could have asked for a better pair of roommates.

Congressional Page Program

It is Tuesday, July the 10th, and the third day of the house Page Program. I have a lot to describe, but in the interest of keeping a linear timeline, I must backpeddle.

The friday night before I left, I watched Happy Feet and ate black olive pizza with mom. I enjoyed the movie immensely, in spite of its decidedly young target audience and a splitting headache. I got to sleep at an almost reasonable hour, and woke about five hours later, at 3:30 or 4. I had a quick protein shake and was on my way.

My mom drove me up to San Jose and sat with me briefly right outside the security checkpoint, then I bid her farewell. It always feels strange to say goodbye and then wait in line right in sight for a few minutes; goodbyes seem like they should be the last interaction.

The flights were uneventful and went quickly. I had a brief layover in St.Paul/Minneapolis, and arrived at Reagan International airport at 5 in the humid afternoon.

I collected my bags from the luggage claim and grabbed a shuttle to the Metro station. It felt strangely natural to be on my own. I had expected some sort of shock or discomfort, but perhaps I shouldn't have. I had done every activity up to this point on my own before: Flying, getting around airports, getting food and keeping track of bags. Stringing them together, it seemed, was no different than doing them separately.

I took the Metro, got off at the wrong station, took it again, got lost, got directions, got lost again, got directions again, and found Kate's apartment.

Here I must again digress. A week before leaving for Washington, I discovered that I could not book a hotel because I am not 18. I needed to spend one night away from the dorm before I could move in, so perhaps I should have lied, but I didn't. So now I had to scramble to avoid sleeping in those uncomfortable seats in airport terminals.

I first called Lewis, a friend who goes to college in DC, and he generously set out to help me find lodging. Unfortunately, his roommate already had a guest because of the 4th of July, and the schools overnight dorm stay could not arrange anything for me in such a short time.

My mom called Mr. Farr's office (my sponsor), and for a time it looked like Mr. Farr himself had a place where I could stay, but again, because of the 4th, someone else was using it. Finally, someone from Mr. Farr's office arranged for me to stay with an ex-page of Mr. Farr's. That's Kate.

Kate, who had already earned my great gratitude for her hospitality, made a delicious meal, and patiently answered my hailstorm of questions about the Page program. I slept on a comfortable but too short coach, and departed early in the morning, so as to get the best bed in the dorm ( Kate's advice).

Unexpectedly, the Metro was closed. I took a cab, and arrived at the Page dorm just before it opened. 

Congresional Page Program