What it’s really like to attend a Trump rally

I went with an open mind.

For more than a year, the mainstream media had been broadcasting Trump rallies all across the nation, showcasing multiple instances of violence, racism, xenophobia and flat-out insanity.

When I heard that Trump would be making an appearance at Germain Arena, just one mile from my house, I knew I had to go just to quench my sheer curiosity.

I figured that if I want to have a legitimate reason to be against him and his “movement,” I needed to experience it all for myself, up close and in person.

So with my ticket in hand, I embarked down to Germain Arena in what would be an arduous and uncomfortable three-and-a-half hour wait in a tightly-coiled line.

When I first arrived, I trudged my way past slews of white, middle-aged men and women, all adorned in the red “Make America Great Again” trucker hats and “Proud to be a Deplorable” t-shirts.

One gentleman was handing out “Hillary for Prison” posters, while another, standing off to the side of the line, held a large sign that read ‘Trump vs. Tramp.’

Yep, this was a Trump rally alright.

At first glance, I saw no people of color. Aside from the black men and women who were selling novelty merchandise to supporters.

I can say that I counted on one hand how many non-white supporters there were. However, I was amazed at the amount of women that had showed up in support.

Hillary Clinton shouldn’t underestimate the power of conservative women. These ladies were fired up and angry, and they were wholeheartedly supporting the Trump.

Aside from the brutal heat and having to stand while the line barely moved, all seemed to be going just fine for the first hour. No fights, no racist outbursts, and no offensive language.

I even became friendly with the elderly couple standing behind me. I thought, for just a split second, that the media had it all wrong (as usual). These people were actually quite friendly.

And then, of course, that slowly started to deteriorate as time – and emotions – intensified.

During the last two hours I was in line, I heard the n-word said three times, twice from a group adjacent to me and once among a group of what looked like college-aged frat boys.

They were upset that Clinton dared to refer to them as deplorables, but not the you-know-what’s of the Black Lives Matter movement.

In another part of the line were three Asian women, wearing shirts that read “Chinese for Trump.”

They were a hit. But there was one person in particular, who was standing right next to me, that disagreed. “Ugh,” this woman scoffed. “I bet they are Hillary supporters. There’s no way Chinese people support Trump.” There’s a reason for that, and this woman proved why.

When I finally got into the arena and took my seat (with two friends by my side, thank god), and after an hour of waiting, Trump finally made his entrance. The crowd went nuts.

And, like he always does, Trump delivered, playing on his audience’s fears and weaknesses. Blaming immigrants, refugees and Muslims for all the woes in the world (he read an eerie and downright propaganda-laced poem). Trump incited an anger and hatred I have never seen before.

Screams of ‘F- Obama’, and ‘Hillary is a B-’ from the audience around me seemed to follow every word Trump said, with chants of “Lock her up,” being screamed in full frenzy.

After waiting three-and-a-half hours in line, I listened to Trump speak for only 25 minutes. I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, and promptly left, filled with regret that I subjected myself to that torment.

Luckily, I escaped the hectic traffic rush.