On Monday, I think I was waiting for there to be tumbleweeds rolling here in Queens. A "28 Days" sort-of thing. But no. Typical Monday. Cars to and fro on the Queens Blvd into Manjatan and out.

At home, I combed my apartment for a white shirt. Boy, was it difficult. I'm a New Yorker and plump Latina, who loves her colors. I ended up settling for sunglasses with white plastic frames for "peaceful visions," I told myself.

It was a little after four when I arrived at the rally. The corrals of protesters seemed like a carnaval. Flags, cheers, chants, costumes. Jesus, Mary, and the Romans. The Passion of the Inmigrantes. By this time the police were more permissive with pedestrian traffic than earlier, I learned. Yet at times, it seemed as if they were involved in a great, big game of human Tetris or Pacman: poring protesters of one corral into available space in another.

The morale of my protesting brethren was surprisingly pleasant considering it was almost hour three of the rally. Enthusiasm was channeled into shouting chants of "Bush escucha, la gente esta en la lucha." Maybe it was the Jesus with the cardboard cross or the constant standing, or simply the call-and-response but the march reminded me of a Catholic mass.

I left shortly after my hero Roger Toussaint spoke. I thought it was great that he still delivered a warm speech after having been sentenced to 10 days in jail earlier in the day.

That night and the morning after I realized that I took a souvenir with me from the march. I developed a cold! But it was worth it. I can only imagine the astonishment in Washington. Two million individuals coalesced to send lawmakers one huge check. A reality check, that is.