Four Syracuse Police Department officers stood side-by-side, hands either at their hips or relaxed below their waists. Badges each fastened just below their left shoulder, guns holstered on their right. They smiled as a woman held up her camera phone and took a picture of them posing, then chuckled and walked away.

It was 9:08 a.m., and more than three hours before presidential candidate Donald Trump would take the podium directly behind them. The first few stragglers that had been waiting outside since 4 a.m. were just beginning to trickle in. The OnCenter convention center that holds 8,000 was populated by no more than 50.

These police officers, just like the thousands upon thousands that would enter in the next few hours, were soaking in the surroundings, creating a memory that was just beginning. It was the prelude to a sea of wildness that would overtake the venue. From undercover protesters to unapologetic supporters wearing “TRUMP THAT B*TCH” shirts, there was a sense of controlled chaos all morning through the early afternoon.

The Trump phenomenon, like him or not, brings an aura to wherever he goes. It brought college students dressed ironically in Trump gear. It brought old ladies in wheelchairs that knitted yarn while they waited. It brought kids with pro-gun paraphernalia and babies wearing Trump 2016 shirts to match their parents.

In the span of an hour I stood next to a man who had a hamburger in one hand and a hot dog in another. It was 9:30 a.m., and he mistakenly thought Trump was coming out any minute because his wife had told him so. Then there were the two men who had raced in to get a spot in front of the stage when the doors opened — they refused, despite the plea of a police officer, to move over so a woman in a wheelchair could see as well. There was the concession worker who gave a wide-eyed stare at the Trump supporter that asked if they were serving beer.

An elderly woman asked if I was for or against Trump. I told her that I was merely a spectator — here soaking in the event for the newspaper that I worked for. “That’s what they all say,” a woman next to us said with a concerned look on her face. “Do you plan to start any trouble?” the first woman asked.

I decided to find a new place to stand.

You can enjoy all the fun of a Trump event before he even gets there. The song “Y’all ready for this” started blasting louder than my own thoughts before he took the stage — interrupting the same string of 10 songs that had replayed four times each. Everyone’s camera phones rose to the air, and the bronzed, blonde 69-year-old in a suit came out to tell us that he’s “tremendous.” The wildness that had permeated through the room before he was there was now sucked up in his controversial message.

Trump pointed to the press section — he usually does this. He said the press is terrible, then said it again for emphasis. He found a part of the city the people can relate to. He knew that the basketball team was good. He was a fan of Jim Boeheim, though he never said him by name. “Jim Brown,” he said before pausing to talk about the former Orange great. “Did I get that right?”

Everyone’s eyes were peeled to the native New Yorker. Three protesters interrupted the rally, one even just a few seconds in. A group was escorted out and one protester flung her fist in the air as Trump supporters booed her. Trump later said he is bringing people together. Throngs cheered in response.

He reminded everyone to vote Tuesday. It felt as though most of these people need no reminder. He said he loves everyone, then raised his voice to the loudest it had been all afternoon when he boasts his “Make America Great Again” rallying cry.

Then he exited the stage. The thousands of supporters poured out into the street to be greeted by the protesters adjacent to them. On the floor of the emptying convention center was scattered trash and spilled drinks.

The remnants of a wild morning, ending just as calmly as it began.

Published on April 16, 2016 at 4:17 pm