'She Made It Clear That One Person Could Make a Difference'

But when a man wandered through the restaurant at about 6 p.m. and informed everyone that Rosa Parks's coffin would pass right outside in a motorcade, Wellmon and Saunders decided dinner could wait.

After stowing the food inside their car, they took their place with about 10 other people on an overpass on M Street looking out on South Capitol. The night was cold, but not enough to make anyone shiver. Helicopters buzzed overhead, while the glow of convenience stores and a Domino's Pizza illuminated the streets.

It was not the ambience of the Capitol Rotunda, but the chance to see Parks pass by was no less solemn for Wellmon, who is Hispanic, and her daughter, who is Hispanic and black.

You think about what it would be like if she hadn't done what she did. People nowadays take so much for granted," said Wellmon, 56. "I'll probably say a little prayer when she passes."

Minutes passed by, and the two kept wondering aloud whether she'd ever come.

"It's now 6:40 . . ." Wellmon said, raising her wrist up high to look at her watch.

Finally, a police cruiser could be seen blocking off the traffic, and suddenly, the normally busy thoroughfare was empty. Straightening their backs and staring straight out, they saw the flashing blue and red lights of the motorcade coming their way.

"I've never seen a highway this clear," said Jannine, 11.

As it passed, Wellmon made the sign of the cross across her chest and clutched her daughter tightly.

"Well, you've seen a little piece of history," she said. "Now, home to my cold food."

* * *

At 7:20 p.m., as the procession drove solemnly down First Street, Rana Silver clapped as hard as she could. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her fiance, Chris Meehan, put his hand on her back.