Washington is exhausting.

Everyone here has an opinion. A strong opinion. And they want to talk and talk and talk about “serious issues” ALL THE TIME. Really? Hasn’t anyone been to a movie or read a trashy novel lately? Why does a cute story about trick-or-treaters lead to a discussion of child labor laws? Why can’t we enjoy our amazing twice-grilled burritos without arguing over immigration policy. You people need to chill the heck out!

Now – caveat here – these people are my friends. I like them. We don’t agree on everything; in fact we disagree quite a bit. I enjoy talking to them because we can actually debate without the posturing and screaming you see on cable news talk shows. We can share opinions and try to see each other’s points of view. Often we end up very close to the same place. For instance, no one wants little kids working and no one wants illegal aliens bringing drugs and crime into our country. It’s how those problems are solved that leads to differences. But I always feel if someone told my conservative pals and my liberal pals to work it out, we could because the goal is the same for all of us. (Of course, we don’t need to win an election…)

Which leads me to this past Saturday. The night Jon Stewart announced he was holding a “Rally to Restore Sanity” in Washington DC, I called United and booked a ticket. It represented everything I felt was possible if we got away from the shouters. I wanted to be with people who were just like my friends. Intelligent, ordinary folks trying to get something – anything – done.

Oh, but I’m a rally rookie and failed to follow some simple rules for successful Mall sitting. I didn’t get there four hours (or more) before show time. I didn’t bring a buddy to help carry stuff and spot openings in the nonstop flow of people. Mainly, I didn’t understand the impenetrable wall of humanity that forms in the middle of that Mall. Once formed there’s no way in or out. So my rainbow and unicorn filled plan of mingling with people who were involved in the process went up in fairy smoke.

Now I understand why newscasts are always filled with interviews standing near the port-a-potties. They’re simply the only people an interviewer can get to. I was very lucky in that some of the “fringers” were terrific people who aren’t really sideline-sitters on a regular basis. They were just people who couldn’t get into the parking lots or on the bus or into the Metro… just like me.