Obama in Berlin, Part I

Today the grand Obama speech took place at the Siegessäule. Ever since I heard that he would speak here, I had decided to attend. So, at around 3:15 I set off, hoping to see everything being set up, the press getting into position, etc. I came up the Hofjägerallee, one of the streets that runs out like a ray from the Säule, and saw about 23 police vans and two long black buses parked along the other side in an impressive stationary cavalcade. The street was blocked off at the roundabout that encircles the Säule, so I became one in a steady trickle of people (and pairs of policemen, with or without a sniffer dog) who made their way along a humble forest path to the entrance on the Straße des 17. Juni. The Brandenburger Tor was to the right, the Column to the left, and a modest crowd of (I'm randomly guessing) two hundred had already spread itself out, sitting or standing, at the fence where orange-shirted people stood watch.

I hadn't been seated for five minutes when the loudspeaker came on; a mildly annoyed male voice announced that we could enter, slowly, by the gates. He added that if we did not get through, which was unlikely, we could see everything on the large screens, and (in a possible touch of Berliner irony) that the sound would be audible even at Brandenburger Tor. The admonition to go slowly was redundant where I was, since our movement, crowded as we were, was the opposite of rapid. Then we had to turn to the right or left to go through security. White pavilions had been set up at the sidewalks. Each contained two grey screening portals, a long table, and two or more orange-shirted security people. An orange bin stood in front, apparently to receive water bottles, which plunked in steadily. The waiting period took forever, and then the portal or who knows what failed at the tent where I was at, and we all had to go to the end of another line.

As I waited for the security checks, I took notes on the scene. People were using their digital cameras or even videocameras to scan the crowd; some called friends; more stood around and talked. Energetic individuals strode up and down through the masses shouting, "Are you American?", "Are you an American citizen?", etc., to find eligible voters who still had to register. The people around me were divided between German and American, with Australians thrown in for good measure, but the Americans appeared to me to preponderate. The overwhelming majority of the people regardless of nationality were, I think, male students; it was like being at university again. They dropped references to Taft, Reagan, and Ross Perot, and were quite well-informed.

One photographer created a photo opportunity by grouping a trio of girls, smiling, in line with the Siegessäule; then he borrowed the Obama pin from a tall supporter (who adamantly though cheerfully refused to be part of the picture) and the girls held it out toward the camera and did their best to grin for him. Others complained about the sluggishness of the line's pace. A helicopter flew overhead. Glaciers formed and melted. I noted that someone was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt bearing the logo, "Global Tsunami of Change," and also noted that this was a trifle insensitive. Music played. Someone remarked solemnly, about the long wait, "In the end, it's always worth it; it's always worth it."

Then I reached the pavilion, emptied my purse and laid it as well as my raincoat on the table, and passed through the portal. The orange-shirted person who stood in the back didn't have to double-check me with the handheld scanner, as I didn't beep. Nor did I have to turn on a digital camera to show that it works. Nor did the suited man who was standing behind him stop me (I surmised that he was U.S. Secret Service, and admittedly thought "cool!"; anyway, at least he and the colleague standing nearby looked jovial). So it was quick and easy.

At length, then, I joined the mostly sitting and rarely standing crowd in the area closest to the Siegessäule. The pavilions with refreshments were to the left, beside a black music stage; the column towered to the front; at its right corner a podium had been set up on a platform; obliquely opposite the podium, a statue of a Prussian war minister rose in his weathered bronze grandeur; and beside him there were the press bleachers. Then the long waiting began. But in the bleachers I did see Christiane Amanpour from CNN, in white shirt and short wavy dark brown hair and (I think) sunglasses. She looked nice and relaxed, talked with someone over the side of the bleacher and gazed out over the crowd. Later on I also saw a brown-suited individual whom I believe to have been (the, in my view, irritating) Richard Quest. Internally I squealed with excitement. I also looked for a Canadian news anchor, or a recognizable German one, but didn't spot any. On the podium itself there was a coming and going. But throughout it there stood a Secret Service man, in a black suit and white shirt and blue tie, the sun pouring forth behind him, flashing on his sunglasses, and lingeringly illumining the white earplug cord at his neck, as the blue sky faded ever more, smudgy long clouds softened the solar glare, and a tranquil sunset was underway.

As for my fellow hoi polloi on the ground, there was a friendly group of students from Michigan State University who had a game of cards and a genial exchange of jokes, a girl who (politely thanking me for moving aside to give her room) stretched out for a nap beneath the Zitty issue whose front cover features Obama, three newspaper-readers, a girlfriend and boyfriend who insisted on smooching even after we'd stood up and were packed like sardines (why?!), a young man wrapped in the American flag, and a pervading atmosphere of sweat. Some smoked cigarettes, too, or marijuana – someone observed, "You wouldn't find that at a McCain rally" – or listened to the music. It was so lovely to hear American English again, by the way. Then there were the "entitled pushy idiots!!!" (according to my notes) who insisted on shoving through the crowd and nearly bowled me over someone's backpack. Three people behind me talked about the TV series "24" and pictured crazy thriller scenarios that could be taking place right now, and talked about explosives ("that's always good," I sarcastically wrote in my notes) in plants (the person mentioned the "yucca palms" in front of the podium, so there was a botanical detail cleared up). Altogether, after we stood up, I became very well acquainted with those around me, if having them nudging my back and arms and making bored or friendly eye contact, for an hour or two, is any criterion.

Then a helicopter began descending, and we were wondering if Barack Obama was making a grand entrance in it, perchance even bailing out of it in an enormous red-white-and-blue parachute. But he wasn't. A person fainted in the crowd behind us, and left a ca. five-foot long gap in the crowd, fringed with the worried/interested faces of the people around the casualty. They shouted and waved for a paramedic, and after a very long time one came. I was wondering whether to help, but First Aid learned in Grade 8 seemed an insufficient qualification.