It's no fun

being an illegal alien.

That’s the song in my head this morning.

Big apologies if it’s stuck in yours now. If you’ve never heard it, consider yourself blessed.
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A number of non-minority types will use today’s big protest as an excuse to stay out of the city. Not me.

I like the idea of being near something this big, this historic.

Most of all, I really love chaos. A double secret part of me craves it.

Not that I’m expecting it though.

As with the millions of gorgeous, orderly perennials planted along the Magnificent Mile, I’m certain the City of Chicago is implementing a well thought-out plan for today. But with up to a half million people protesting, things could get ugly for small moments.

What’s left of the journalist in me is excited about being there for it.
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I don’t agree with today’s protest.

But you said…I know. Amnesty for all immigrants.

I still believe that. I just don’t believe in this particular event.

Why?

Because they already had their fucking march back in March. Why do they need another one? How many days are they gonna take off to let the world know that they’re a very powerful minority? When will it be enough?
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Then again, maybe this march isn’t scaring off anyone. My usual train (the 7:42) is more crowded than usual. Not with protesters, either. It’s just us average worker-bee types.

Wait. I get it. Everyone is taking earlier trains to avoid the pre-march madness.
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I read somewhere that if you can’t leave work for the protest you should at least wear white to show your support for this cause. A quick glance around the train tells me a) nobody got the “let’s wear white” edict and/or b) nobody cares.
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And where the hell is Jesse Jackson? He’s usually front and center when it comes to the Major Minority Media Event. Where’s his Rainbow PUSH Coalition today? Supporting his persecuted Mexican compadres?

Or is he, as I suspect, cowering in a corner somewhere contemplating his continued loss of cache as the leader of what’s become the second most-powerful minority in the United States?

Second most-powerful minority. It’s kinda like coming in second at a beauty pageant. Your only hope of ever reigning involves unforeseen scandal or tragedy.
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Today’s march is going to be Really Big News. The people planning the protest have said they want to shut down every major city across the U.S.

Millions of people will skip work and school to participate in this historic event.

In the midst of all this excitement and anticipation, what does a half-ass journalist like me think about?

Lunch, of course.

Restaurants rely on immigrant labor. Which means it’ll be tough to get lunch in the Loop today.

Life is uncertain. Pack lunch.

Don’t thank me. Really. Sometimes the wisdom just flows.
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My friend Richard the Conductor just made an announcement regarding extra trains in anticipation of the large crowds this afternoon.

He called it an “Immigration Parade.”

Parades have floats. Parades have marching bands. And parades have fat men wearing fezzes riding tiny ridiculous vehicles.

This is not a parade.
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Update on the Jesse Jackson thing: as of 9:10 a.m. his Rainbow PUSH Coalition site had no comment on today's events. I asked a co-worker about this interesting phenomenon.

"If it ain't black, he won't attack!" he replied.
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Confession: I had to look up how to manage the plural version of fez. I was guessing it was something more exotic like fezi.
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I am reading: Steinberg in the Sun-Times
I am listening to: Pearl Jam – Severed Hand
And I am: Curious