Donald Trump called me the “lowest form of humanity” — sort of.

Approximately thirty minutes into his speech in Erie, PA on Friday, August 13th, Donald Trump arrived at the topic of the media. The media, according to Trump, is keeping his message from getting through to people by twisting his words. While the crowd on the floor turned their attention to the media pen, he labeled the media “the lowest form of humanity.” I was one of the people in that media pen, and I was wearing a lanyard with a press pass, but I’m not a member of the press.

I am a photographer, and I’ve been taking photos of political events this summer. I was in Cleveland during the Republican National Convention and in Philadelphia the next week as the Democratic National Convention. In Philadelphia, I also went to Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine’s first post-convention rally. When I returned home to Toledo, Ohio, I decided to follow the rest of the election by taking photos. Two weeks ago, I launched a Kickstarter project, Political Views, to publish a book of my election photos, which are taken from an average citizen’s perspective.

I also want photos of Trump for the project, so when he scheduled a rally in Erie, four hours away from me, I signed up online for a ticket. As I read the confirmation, one point stood out to me: “No professional cameras with a detachable lens are permitted.” Taking my camera was the point of going, so this was a problem. I considered options like showing up with my camera and its smallest lens and hoping I was allowed in. My camera wasn’t a problem at the Hillary rally. I searched online and found other people looking for a solution to the same issue. I thought about borrowing a good point-and-shoot and getting as close to the stage as possible, but I didn’t have enough time to do that. Finally, I completed an online request form for media credentials. With low expectations of success, I matter-of-factly completed each field. They asked for an organization email address and I used the email from my photography portfolio website. I put myself down as a photographer — freelance. Two days later, I received an email that read, “If you have received this email, your request for credentials has been approved.” I reread it a few times to make sure I was reading it correctly.

Erie is approximately 3 1/2 hours east of Toledo, but rush hour traffic along the way (Cleveland is in between) can make it 4 1/2 hours. The rally was scheduled for 2 PM, with doors opening at 11 for media set-up, and early set-up between 8:00 and 9:00 AM. I went to bed with plans to wake up at 4:30 in order to get to Erie with extra time to eat breakfast, scout the floor during pre-setup, and casually record the early arrivals at the Erie Insurance Arena. Instead, I woke up at 7:00 AM, rushed to shower and throw my camera bag together, and hit the road. I arrived in Erie at 11:30 AM. I drove by the arena looking for parking and saw a line that circled the square in front of the building and continued down the block. If there is a parking lot for the arena, I missed it. I found a street parking spot a few blocks away in a residential neighborhood.

The press entrance was not yet open, so I went to look at the line. There were several hundred people in it. They were in good spirits, and I thought it was a quiet line. Most people had on Trump related shirts or the Make America Great Again baseball cap. I walked up and down looking for interesting outfits, but was disappointed that it was mostly t-shirts. People don’t dress up for rallies the way they at the conventions. One man jumped out of line to pose in an NRA t-shirt. I took photos to show how long the line was. It was certainly long, but that was because the doors were not open yet. Once the doors opened, it moved quickly.

People continued to arrive and enter up to 1/2 an hour before the start. Although Donald would make a comment about filling up the arena, there were a noticeable amount of empty seats and there was open space on the floor, although that might have been limited for safety reasons. It was easy to get in and out, and to move around the arena.

I was nervous reporting to the credentials desk. I still thought that my name might not be on the list, or that they would ask to confirm my news organization. When I returned to the media entrance, it was still not open. Before getting in line, I decided to ask someone who was waiting if I was in the right place. As I asked if the line was for media, I was sure that the woman I was asking knew that I was not a journalist. She was waiting with her laptop bag and accompanied by a camera man.

The door opened and we filed in. My name was on the list, and I was given a lanyard with a press pass. I emptied my pockets for screening, spread my legs and arms for the metal detecting wand, and a dog checked my camera bag for explosives. I don’t remember them looking in the bag.

While the public was free to buy nachos and sodas on the concourse, I was pointed down a stairwell and through a tunnel which led to the arena floor, where I was pointed to the press pen. There was a staff person checking credentials, and I was surprised again when she let me walk right in. The press pen was anchored by a raised stage on which the tv news cameras stand on tripods. Long folding tables flanked two sides along the edges of the floor. I recognized people from the press line already sitting at the tables. I claimed an open seat. The stage where Trump would stand was approximately 20 yards away. Trump supporters would fill the area between the press pen and the stage. I wasn’t sure that I would have a clear line of sight for Trump photos. I also wasn’t sure how close of a shot I could get with my 200mm telephoto lens.

I was not comfortable in the press pen, where I felt exposed. The arena was filling up and 9,000 people would eventually be able to see me on the floor. I felt a harsher spotlight, however, from the other people inside the press pen, the actual members of the media. Did I look unsure? What did they think of my 6 year old camera and my mid-level lenses? Is that other photographer shooting with the $9000 500mm, the $11,500 600mm, or the $13,000 800mm telephoto lens? I started taking photos of the crowd. I felt stiff, but it helped to be active. I needed to fill 2 hours until the show started.

Of course, the other press didn’t care about me. They were busy doing their jobs. One friendly photographer, Andy Colwell from the Erie Times-News, introduced himself and asked who I was with. He complimented me when I said I was working on a personal project. Another photographer patted me on the back as he passed. I kept taking photos and grew more comfortable. When various local politicians started speaking on stage, I felt attention shift, the noise level increased in the arena, and I became excited to take photos. I moved around the press pen. I followed the lead of others and walked up the steps of the camera stand for a clear and level shot of the stage. “I’m doing it,” I started to think. I put myself in the press pen, faked it and maybe made it, and it was fun.

But when Trump started to criticize the media, including directing the crowd’s attention to the press pen, I didn’t feel like I had earned the privilege of being a subject of his criticism. I’m not a journalist. I had the badge, but I’m not the media. The people in the pen with me had worked hard for years, been dedicated to their careers, and they depend on their work for their livelihood. Trump was criticizing a very important part of their lives, while I was just having an adventurous afternoon.

Also, I was about to be exposed as a non-press member. Trump was nearing the end of his speech when I overheard the woman who had been the gatekeeper in the press pen ask another photographer who he was with. He told her the name of his newspaper and she nodded. I looked to see her walk away from me and thought I was in the clear, but a few minutes later she approached me with the same question. “I’m on my own,” I told her. “On your own?” she repeated for confirmation, and I thought I saw her frown. She walked away without further comment -maybe because it was loud and she was busy- and I saw her lead the other photographers onto the floor for photos of Trump’s exit. I missed the chance for those photos, but I was comfortable about the fact that I never claimed to work for any news organization.

Trump finished his speech and left the arena floor, and I didn’t know what to do, whether or not I could even leave the press pen yet, so I waited on the camera stand steps as the crowd cleared out. One man from the audience came over and started saying something. I motioned to him that I couldn’t hear, and he repeated it. “You guys are not the lowest form of humanity,” he said.

I smiled and laughed, and I followed the crowd out of the arena.