Frozen with Hope, Part II

A lovely, crazy, confusing, and FRIGID trip to the national capital to see the inauguration of the 44th president.

I am greeted in Washington by a giant inflatable Bush presiding over a pile of old shoes in Dupont Circle. I and others are invited to pelt the effigy with said shoes. I do so with enthusiasm.


I then meet various groupings of friends/acquaintances/randos in various places: a Southern pool hall, a Stevie Wonder dance party, Ben's Chili Bowl. It is very nice to see them. I drink, inevitably, an Obamatini. Or several.

Then two good things happen. Crystal let's me sleep on her couch in Dupont, saving me a trip to the 'burbs. Oriana offers me a much-sought ticket to the inauguration ceremony, and even comes across town to deliver it. I know such nice people. Must remember to bring them luxe chocolates from Switzerland.

Today, awake at 6. Out the door by 6:30. No one I know has the same color ticket as me so I am a lone wolf, quick and ruthless. Acquire coffee, selection of unsalted nuts, yogurt parfait, newspapers. Decide to take metro to the Mall. One train comes, full, no one gets on. Another comes, full, no one gets on--except me. There's always room for one more.

Arrive at Judiciary Square to this:

Information is sparse, contradictory. No one seems to be in charge. I know I must pass through a gate, but cannot locate gate nor path to gate. Despite confusion, a happy, expectant mood prevails. Coffee warms, energizes.

A hour passes. Rumors that the gate has been closed sweep through the crowd. I follow streaming masses through tunnel to opposite side of the mall. A similar situation prevails. Coffee now warming only my bladder.

Eventually the Silver Gate is located. The line twists around the block. Then another. Then another. Then a few more. Then it goes under some train tracks. Then into a large square. Then into a parking lot. Eventually placing me here.


The capital is now in sight! Morale remains high. Bladder sealed by superego.

Time passes. Line begins inching forward. I proceed one block before the line is split in two under questionable authority of volunteer organizers. I choose the more rebellious line. The organizers want us to go one way--we go another. Somehow this works. We are at the Silver Gate. My bag of papers and nuts is searched, but no one asks for a ticket.

This is ironic. Apparently many ticket holders never actually got onto the Mall because of confusion over where to go and how to get there. The purple ticket holders, of which Haylee was one, were particulary screwed, spending four hours in a fetid tunnel and never actually seeing the ceremony! People are not happy.

Finally make it onto the Mall. Begin inching forward through the crowd, a process that will culminate at the Reflecting Pool.

Wait. Wait a lot. Loose feeling in toes. Eat nuts. Befriend others, only to then inch past them and befriend other others. Endless musical prelude. Then it begins!



Rick Warren: Lame. Next book should be called "the purposeless speech".
Aretha: AWESOME
Roberts: Can't read, apparently

Obama: Adequate speech, ticked all the boxes but not one of his best. Sounded good, though. Presidential.
Poem: Embarassing for all involved.
Benediction: Funny and left-leaning!


Back to Dupont on foot. All of DC packed with enthusiasts. Begin to hate humanity. Hot toddies all around. Schnitzel. Chillax.