The best kind of crazy

By: Andrea Sheetz

Last Friday night I was sitting at the hotel bar with my classmates talking about how we spent the day at our various placements. As I described what exactly went into a precinct packet, my professor looked at me and asked, “Did you ever think you would know that?” Not in a million years. Before learning about this course, I never thought I would willingly spend 2 weeks in Iowa in January. Until we got here, I expected my days to be spent calling caucus-goers and standing in the back of rallies in evenings and on the weekends. Given my interests, I knew I would have political experience at some point but not to the extent of this trip.

            Little moments here and there have felt surreal, like meeting candidates, watching my peers interview political elites, and having people with careers at the top of their industry come and talk to our class. The moment I found out I would see the debate live was not one of these moments. Please don’t misunderstand me, I was still extremely grateful for the privilege of seeing the debate live, especially in such a small venue. Honestly, I thought I would feel the same about seeing it in person as I do about live sports: a cool experience but for analysis and actually watching, better on TV. I have never been happier to be wrong. Nothing has felt as dreamlike as debate night.

            The excitement started to build as my roommate and I danced while getting ready and the debate became our sole topic of conversation. When we arrived at Drake University and saw the security, tents, and other preparations, it started to feel like the big deal it was. There are no words to describe the feeling of walking into the hall, seeing the set, and realizing how close we were to the next Democratic nominee for President of the United States and their competitors. When my classmates and I were taking pictures and unsuccessfully controlling our emotions, we struck up a conversation with a CNN producer near us who remarked “you guys are crazy, but the good kind.”

            A series of very fortunate events led to me and two fellow classmates being moved from behind the moderators to the center section, where we had a completely unobstructed view of the stage. We then heard from everyone including the floor manager, who trained us on when to clap, to Tom Perez, the chairman of the DNC, and many other passionate and dedicated individuals. Periodically, I would look around, waiting for someone to tell me there’s been a mistake and my seat was actually in the back row of the balcony. But when 8:00 hit and the candidates walked out, I clapped, laughed, and cringed with them for two hours. From six rows back, all I could do was take it all in with tears in my eyes and wonder how I was lucky enough to be here.