There's No Reading in the House

     A few summers ago, my family and I went on vacation to Washington D.C. Having been no farther east than the Mississippi river, I suppose it was unsurprising that I felt like a huge frickin' tourist in a place that should, ideally, feel comforting and welcoming to every citizen in this country. Obviously, this sentiment identifies me as an insanely liberal nutjob, and quite possibly a terrorist.


    For a few days we went along the hamster wheel, riding the metro, visiting museums, waiting in line after line just to see money being made (depressing) and the original C3PO suit (totally worth it.) Finally, we made our way to the House of Representatives.

   Now, let me just say that the House of Representatives must be in constant danger of violation and defilement, because it had on the biggest chastity belt of all time. Only a handful of people were allowed in the building at once, and it had to be at a certain time. We went through airport-level security twice, and my camera was confiscated. Because, as you know, no one has ever photographed the elusive House of Representatives.

Pictured here.

In fact, until I saw it with my own eyes, I was quite certain it was a rumor.

    When we finally got in, the House was empty. Slow day for legislation and all that, or else there was a Congressional kegger we'd missed on our way over. I hadn't exactly expected to see history being made, but it was a bit of a letdown. Still, we sat in the balcony of that capacious justice stadium, just to imagine that we contributed to the way the country was run.

    Here I should mention Younger Brother, who is a huge nerd. Older sisters are, by law, required to think so, but Younger Brother is a history buff to a disturbing level. For instance: he gets all of the jokes in Hark, a Vagrant. For instance: His idea of a good game is seeing who can list all the U.S. presidents, in order, in the shortest amount of time. (I got five. To be fair, though, it was enjoyable, because I turned it into a drinking game! Good luck not taking shots when it comes to Taylor!)

Who? Oh, right.

     So, as we lounged in that sacred space of freedom and such, Younger Brother decided that it would Super Awesome to see who could list all the amendments in the Bill of Rights. I agreed to it, even though the House of Representatives' security people made it clear to me that I was not to turn this into a drinking game. As I stammered hopefully through my first guess, ("Thou shalt not... bear arms against Jesus?") Younger Brother whipped out his pocket Constitution (See what I mean? Nerd.) in order to judge me.

    Younger Brother is extremely proud of this Constitution. It goes everywhere with him. It is mostly worn down to tissue paper by now. It has taken on the shape of his butt. He basically has it memorized. What better place to use and peruse it than here? When he pulled it out, I half expected it to glow and for the Zelda "You Did It!" music to start playing.

   Clearly, though, I don't enjoy irony the way that the Universe does. No sooner had the tattered little book made its appearance, then a burly security guard materialized before our eyes. I had a brief, terrifying moment of wondering if the Constitution had been legally banned. In retrospect, that still seems like the least surprising option. The man loomed over Younger Brother with his starched blue uniform, radio, baton, and deep displeasure.

      "There's no reading in the House."

     Seriously, I could not write a better punchline than that. There were a few ill-advised chuckles on my family's part, to which the guard was apparently immune. I knew that Candid Camera had been dead and buried for a mercifully long time, but I still wondered for a moment. Finally, Younger Brother found his words.

      "But...it's just the Constitution. We're looking at the amendments." You know, because they're really important to know. Especially here, seemed implied. He looked at the guard, hoping for some acknowledgement. As though there may have been a misunderstanding, and the guard only came to us because he thought we were reading smutty romance novels, erotic Harry Potter fan fiction, or worse, Twilight. The man stood patiently for Younger Brother's stammered explanations with the unrelenting inflexibility of a cop who is definitely going to give you a ticket but still asks "Is there a reason you were going that fast?"

"Go ahead. Convince me."

     "There's no reading in the House," the guard repeated, and waited until Younger Brother put that Constitution back where it belonged, i.e. closed and in his butt pocket. As the forefathers decreed.

Then he left.

     I suddenly realized that four years of learning to write theses, essays, rhetoric and arguments had not prepared me for illogic of this magnitude. I had found nothing to say to this man to defend our right to read the fucking Constitution. It wasn't that I didn't have persuasive arguments, it was that I knew he was going to be completely unreasonable. Whatever I said would register as a simple, blinking "Noncompliance" on the computer monitor that was his brain. I probably would have gotten us kicked out.

     I guess it's a good thing that I was surprised into silence, because what I probably would have said is, "Way to encourage kids to stay knowledgeable about our government, our rights and our history. Asshole." I kind of wish I had said it, and then maybe round-house kicked him in the face.

As our forefathers decreed.

    I still haven't come up with a reason why the rule even existed. To keep people from hanging out all day in the House of Representatives with a good novel? If you want to prevent loitering, just limit the amount of time a person can visit. I could have asked the guard, but all he would have said was, "There's no reading in the House."

    This will be our downfall. Unlike Orwell's vision of laws being subtly changed to suit the powerful, the laws will remain the same. They will be preserved in beautiful white sarcophagi that we are forbidden to open. The problem with us is that we don't ask questions. I'm sure that guard didn't ask why he had to tell us to stop reading. I didn't ask why we couldn't. We're used to signs that say "No public restroom," "No shirt, no shoes, no service," "Walgreens is not liable for your car being broken into and peed on while you bought milk." Stated rules like this allow people to be unkind and inflexible. They encourage it. It becomes easy to say, "Sorry, it's not my decision. It's company policy."

"Sorry sir, your insurance does cover axe wounds, but not that brand."

   This apathy and rigidness when it comes to basic human courtesy means that you can't be given treatment if you don't have insurance. You can't get that refund if you don't have the receipt. No one will help you unless they are given specific instruction to do so in their employee handbook.

That doesn't seem like the ideal this country was founded on, but then again, I'm not allowed to check. There's no reading in the House.