|My friend Ann with her daughter Cassie|
Ex-hillarating. It was great to be a part of the marches.
Still we'd have given anything to have Hillary Rodham Clinton as our president and not be marching anywhere.
My friend Ann Wolken and her daughter Cassie marched.
My daughter Marie marched in Washington DC with friends, as did some of her cousins.
My daughter Elle marched in Los Angeles with her friends.
It was 47 degrees at 7:30 when I left the house for the nearest station on the new Metro Expo line. I crowded into a car with so many others that it seemed no more could get on.
But at every station one or two more squeezed on. Meanwhile, the temperature inside the train rose.
We were packed so tightly, chest to chest, that there was no room to remove a sweatshirt or jacket.
The woman next to me said, "I think I'm going to faint."
"I feel like fainting too," I said, not thinking it would really happen.
Then she slumped in place in the crowd and was pulled to a newly emptied seat and given water.
Then I too fainted and was dragged to a seat. A doctor on board tended both of us.
At the last stop, she and six other women helped me off the train, carrying my sweatshirt and backpack. They made me lie down on the platform by the wall for half an hour.
Finally they held my arms to walk up the escalator, and I sat outside on the sidewalk for another 20 minutes before joining the throng.
We couldn't get very far. All the streets near Pershing Square and City Hall were jammed.
I never heard the speeches. I finally got to the square afterward, later to City Hall.
But it was all worth it to be part of a mighty protest against the new Groper-in-Chief.
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