After the brunch with Jason Collins yesterday, I knew Hillary herself was going to be in town to meet with supporters who have already contributed the max of $2700. I couldn't attend, but still decided to drive over there. Since the bulk of my #Hillary2016 project is about documenting the whole campaign from Seattle's vantage point, I figured it was worthwhile to get whatever photos I could of this part of the campaign's culture, even if that meant having to feel a little awkward while standing by outside. It was absolutely worthwhile, but I ended up being mistaken about feeling awkward - the Secret Service was very adept at making me feel more than unwelcome and uncomfortable. It's their job, and it worked. Right when I arrived, the man in the photo, who was very tall, stands over me and asks if I know who he is. "You're Secret Service." "Yeah. What are you doing here?" "Hoping to get a picture of Hillary when she arrives." "That's not gonna happen." "No?" "No." Definitely set the tone for me. A friend said that it looked like I was in "timeout" while waiting under the shade of a nearby tree, after the Secret Service had already inquired about me several times to staffers. Normally the energy in my photos of people is positive, warm and intimate, and I think the image at top is a good one to reflect my one-hour experience as the SS's sole person of suspicion; it's a very strange and debilitating feeling to not only be already acutely aware of your outsider status but to be singled out for it repeatedly, particularly in an environment that's overwhelmingly positive for everyone else, many of whom you recognize. I wish I could've been inside. Driving home, I felt very off and tried to sleep it off the rest of the day. I'm not sure I've ever felt so small while holding a camera, but actually probably should've expected it. So it goes, c'est la vie! And if this is the worst it gets in my life right now, life is pretty damn good.