Leave the Hopkins bubble and head to D.C.

As Hopkins students, we often find ourselves just trying to stay afloat academically. Heads down, unresponsive to our surroundings, we purposefully walk about campus from one study spot to another. When we finally are able to escape the confines of the bleakness that is academia, whether due to comfort or due to ease, we often limit ourselves to Charm City. I certainly am guilty of this practice. And yet there is so much more out there.

When people ask me why I picked Hopkins, I usually cite the University’s proximity to the Federal District. Yet our closeness to D.C. doesn’t matter if we don’t avail ourselves of its benefits. This is why in March of my freshman year, I decided to throw caution to the wind and spontaneously travel to Washington for three days.

To set the scene, it was an important and divisive time for our nation. Marriage equality was about to be argued before the United States Supreme Court, and the district was riddled with advocates for both sides of the issue. After emailing my professors to let them know I’d be missing class for a few days, I spontaneously ran to Barnes & Noble to buy a hat and gloves to face the bitter, biting cold. Emerging with my new winter garments, I hailed the nearest cab. “Penn Station, please!” I said to the driver, and off I went.

When I arrived at Penn Station, I ran straight to the electronic ticket kiosk, bought a one-way MARC Train ticket to Washington’s Union Station and sat on the bench waiting for my train to come. Within minutes, I was zipping off to the seat of our federal government.

After about an hour, I was there, alone in D.C. with nothing but my backpack and the clothes on my back. Now here was the tricky part: I had to find SCOTUS. I turned, as most Americans do, to my iPhone — specifically the Maps app.

Passing by landmarks such as the Russell Senate Office Building and the Capitol with a nobleness of purpose, I worked my way through Washington’s streets to finally arrive at the majestic United States Supreme Court building. For those who have never been, inscribed in the stone above the court are the words “Equal Rights Under Law” — appropriate for the occasion.

Camped outside were many, many people. Fearing I may have been too late to secure a coveted spot as an observer for the oral arguments in Hollingsworth v. Perry and U.S. v. Winsor, I made my way to the end of the line and sat on the side of the road, just waiting for the proceedings which were to take place a solid day later. Within a few minutes, another group arrived and set up shop just behind me. We were all in it together.

Allow me to amend that — we were all waiting together, but we certainly had different views on the merits of the case. Posters, chanting, protests and the Westboro Baptist Church all marked the occasion. Indeed, I quickly found that I was sandwiched in line between a very nice lesbian couple and a deeply impassioned Mormon church group. The night was bitterly cold, but I did manage to befriend my neighbors so that I was allowed to escape back to Union Station for a Dunkin’ Donuts hot chocolate and a quick charging of my phone without losing my spot.

But, surviving the night, the line finally was ushered forward by the Supreme Court Police. In the end, I hadn’t quite gotten there soon enough — I was four people away from being able to sit in on the full proceedings — but I was toward the front of the “Five-Minute Line,” which is allowed to view the oral arguments for five minutes before the next group is rotated in. In these five minutes, I witnessed the foremost constitutional scholars of our time debate axiomatic constitutional issues of the utmost importance with zeal.

While I didn’t get to see the full arguments, I was a first-hand witness to history, and I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. I’ve subsequently gone back and witnessed several other cases, capturing less coveted spots in the court’s gallery.

And so, my piece of advice is this: Every now and then, it’s important to lift your head up and escape The City That Reads. It may just teach you more than any class possibly could.