I am still contemplating vomiting

by Ahmad Dixon, Contributor

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I haven’t thrown up in a while. Peanuts and avocados usually do the trick but I’ve avoided those like a lot of my classmates avoid showers. The closest I’ve come to vomiting recently came one early May morning while I was waiting for my friends to come pick me up. The three of us were going to drive to the San Diego Convention Center to see Donald Trump speak.

I was sitting in the restroom, picturing how my day was going to go. My dad had sent me a video of civil rights marchers being beaten in the south with the audio of Trump’s classic “in the good old days” speech over it. This didn’t put me at ease. I’m a person with brown skin, an ethnic sounding name traveling in a truck with a Bernie 2016 sticker on the bumper. Nothing indicated that that day would go well.

After staring at my bathroom tile for 20 minutes I briefly considered calling Roger, the owner of the aforementioned Democratic-Socialist Chevy, to tell him that I didn’t feel well but he was already out front. I spent another five minutes in the restroom, just in case, before hopping in the backseat of his truck.

On the way, I noticed a homeless man talking to himself. This observation that slowly became the theme of the day, mentally unstable men speaking incoherently about nothing of substance.

While we were waiting alongside my fellow Americans to enter the Convention center, my nervousness slowly turned to boredom and for the first time in 24 hours, I felt like my breakfast was going to stay in my stomach.

While outside we saw a woman carrying a handmade sign with the words “Trump isn’t afraid to say Radical Islamic Terrorism,” a man selling “Make America Great Again” hats, a particular item that would be incinerated later in the day, and miles of people adorned with “Hillary for Jail” merchandise. I can only assume they got their shirts at the “Hillary for Jail” Etsy online page.

Saying the crowd was entirely Caucasian would be disingenuous of me. Inside I could see an African-American mother with her daughter, waving their American flags and wearing their Trump 2016 shirts, an African-American man in a black hoodie, a rather sizable Chinese family with a large banner saying “Chinese for Trump” and me.

Inside the convention center, we were finally able to do what we came here to do, which was talk to the people without the 24-hour spin of mainstream media.

We mixed and mingled, all secretly hoping we’d get a hot date for that evening. We spoke to several people, one woman who originally supported Ben “I stabbed a guy” Carson, then Ted “Insert Zodiac Killer Joke here” Cruz but happily supported Trump once he became the Republican nominee.

All these people were totally and utterly polite and even praised us for being young men interested in politics, which was not exactly I had in mind earlier that morning. I attribute this politeness to the fact our group had an unspoken agreement to be as non-confrontational as possible.

Those speaking at the event were a good mix of conservatives, including some veterans, as it was Memorial Day, and the representative of the California’s 50th district.

After a few of these speakers were all exhausted and I’m in a rotten mood, not because of the message but because I can’t sit down. I had run out of gum because I had given a nice man standing next to me who came all the way from Connecticut to hear Trump speak.

He wasn’t a fan of political correctness, but he was a fan of gum.

For the first time during the entire event I was suddenly excited. I got to see one of the people who first got me interested in politics back in 2008. Tina Fey herself, Sarah Palin.

I thought her speech was everything I could ask for from a political rally, delightfully folksy while praising the virtues of Trump. You had to have been there.

Trump, and I mean this sincerely, is a master entertainer. He knew to play all his greatest hits. When he mentioned Mexico the crowd responded with, “Build the wall!” When he mentioned Clinton or Obama the crowd erupted with “boos.”

But Trump didn’t stick to his classics. Half way through Trump started talking about a hotel was planning to build in between the White House and the Capitol Building. I guess I wasn’t paying attention when he explained how that was relevant.

After the event, my friends and I went outside to watch the protesters. A large crowd divided themselves into two factions separated by police in riot gear. On one side I saw two men waving the American flag and on the other were men waving the Mexican Flag.

I witnessed one fistfight and signs with words too vulgar to be printed in a school newspaper.

But my favorite comment actually came from a person having lunch outside a nearby restaurant who said, “I was going to bring my American flag today, but I as worried something bad would happen to it.”

While I was standing a safe distance away from the protesters, I did strike up a quick conversation with a woman who I will never forget, despite forgetting her name. She was simply trying to get on the trolley to go home but her commute was disrupted by all the shenanigans. She then said, “No matter who gets elected we’re all screwed.”

I anxiously replied, “You can’t think so cynically.” Then I said something about love that even in the moment I thought was cliché.

At the beginning of the rally, I had an exchange with a woman doing security.

She said I looked nice in my jacket and tie. I responded with, “Well you have to look nice for a great man like Trump.”

I’ll let you decide whether or not I was being sarcastic, while I contemplate vomiting again.

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