I was one of the people who foolishly decided not to attend YearlyKos 2006, and I regretted my decision almost as soon as it began. So when YK2007 was announced, I was an early registrant, booked my room, booked my flight, and knew that I wouldn't be sitting around feeling sorry for myself while hundreds were meeting and getting to know each other, attending absorbing and exciting panels, and being addressed by elected officials and candidates (not to mention partying!).
Imagine how I felt when, 2 1/2 weeks before I was due to leave for Chicago, while hiking on a remote island in Nova Scotia, I broke my ankle.
I moped. I got depressed. I did feel sorry for myself. I came here and investigated Kid Oakland's grant program for bringing deserving bloggers to Chicago, and I got in touch with my politically involved local friends to find out whether any of them could use my registration. After my surgery, ten days before the convention was to begin, I worked up the courage to ask my doctor's permission to travel, and to my delighted surprise he said yes.
My dear Lurking Husband had always planned to accompany me, but only as a tourist in Chicago, not as an attendee to YearlyKos. He was already helping me out hundreds of times a day, and I had no intention of turning him into my "chauffeur" once we got there; I wanted to do as much as I could, but I also wanted him to have as much fun as possible (his idea of fun in Chicago is seeing where the St. Valentine's Day massacre took place). I rented a wheelchair (I couldn't use a scooter because I had to keep my bad leg elevated), and I've never been afraid of a little exercise. I figured I'd do fine on my own. Then I saw the Convention Center.
For those of you who didn't come to Chicago, I cannot overemphasize this: the Convention Center is easily the largest indoor space I have ever been in. Including Newark Airport. One of my friends compared the ballroom next to the Lakeside Terrace (where the cookout was held) to the nave of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the largest cathedral in the world, and that was just one "little" corner of the complex. It would have taken a Special Olympics medalist to travel around this place by self-propelled wheelchair.
Clearly, I was going to need some help, and that's what this diary is really about. People pushed me. Most of them just came up to me and asked if I wanted them to, and much of the time I was forced to accept. I got pushed by old friends, by strangers who became new friends, candidates and passersby. People held huge, heavy restroom doors for me. They took me up from the ground floor to what I came to think of as "Siberia" - those four rooms on the fourth floor that were about 3/4 mile from every other venue.
I cannot express the depth of my gratitude to all of you, and unfortunately I can't even thank you all by name, because I (shamefully) didn't keep a list, and my memory ain't what it used to be. But I'm going to do my best, and here goes:
to Charlie Brown and Nancy Skinner, $love$ to your campaigns, and thanks, Nancy, for getting Chris Dodd to sign my cast. The doctor cut it off and put on a new one today, and I think I might have the most unusual souvenir anyone brought home from YK2007;
to mindoca, casperr, democracyloverinNYC, MBNYC, clammyc, next time we meet the drinks are on me. Hell, clammyc, after what you did, next time dinner's on me;
to Boadicea, thanks for making sure there was "room at the table";
to lulu (was that you?) who gave me her Obama wristband so I could see the end of his breakout;
to elfling, "Susan", Daily King Fish, the woman who sat next to me at the NY/NJ caucus (also Susan?), the very tall man whose son is in Iraq, and all the other people whose names I have forgotten or never learned, but you know who you are, I can only say thanks, and it was a pleasure meeting you. I could never have "done" the convention without you.
Last but not least, to the Lurking Husband, without whose unstinting aid I wouldn't even have made it onto the plane, let alone to Room S404a-c, I have been a very lucky woman for the last 42 years. I love you very much.
My pushers. I love you guys.
PS- I'm not asking for any mojo for this, but if you think these people deserve to be thanked, please rec this up.