Inauguration

Well, the inauguration was the coolest experience of my life most likely. I arrived in D.C. Sunday night and the festivities were already under way. The U St. corridor, a historically black area I used to go to all the time while at GW for its bars and jazz, was filled with black couples in tuxedos and gowns going from one inauguration party to the next. I felt shabby in my jeans and t-shirt. Classically black clubs were all spruced up with red, white and blue ribbons and banners and with tents around the entrances so that the line of gussied up black folks waiting to get in wouldn't have to stand in the cold. Everyone, even younger black couples, was dressed up for the occasion with scarves and petticoats. As exciting as Obama is for all of us, it clearly means something special to black people and the sense I got from walking round U St. was that they finally felt like this was their country. About time.

The next day, I was at Old Ebbitt's Grill, a D.C. institution that's across the street from the White House. The place has got blue blood written all over it (there are mounted boar and deer heads and bronze bannisters) and when Bush was in office, the place would get really busy at happy hour and fill with young, almost entirely white, Republican staffers shooting the breeze over bourbon and cokes and martinis. When I walked in this time, the waiting area was filled with black families. I heard one black woman say, "I don't think they've ever seen so many of us up in here. They're not gonna know what to do."

At the bar, I began talking with a black guy who'd been a strategist with the Bush White House. The last couple inaugurations had been crazy for him; he was looking forward to being able to take it easy, especially since the candidate wasn't too objectionable. "I just feel bad for [Obama]," he said, "People are gonna give him six months then they're gonna turn on him." Anyway, it was fascinating to hear him reflect on the last four years. Red, white and blue banners hung over the bar and the brass lanterns came on as the sky darkened outside and inauguration day approached and hearing this strategist talk about what Air Force one was like (how when they were flying into Baghdad they turned off all the lights on the plane, inside and out, and made a, rapid swirling descent towards the green zone) and his personal opinions of Bush (that Bush, despite his aversion to seeming like an intellectual, was actually a pretty voracious reader of history) seemed a fitting way to experience the inauguration. The guy thought that Bush would go down in history as a much better President than his approval ratings reflected and said that the real reason we invaded Iraq was because, after Afghanistan, Iraq seemed the mostly likely new haven for terrorists; the WMD argument was pushed forward for Blair's benefit, to get his people on board. I wasn't convinced that this made it excusable.

The day of the inauguration, I woke up and walked down towards the mall from my friend's apartment, feeling a bit ridiculous and encumbered from the number of layers I was wearing. Sirens were a constant sound in the distance, as were drums from sidewalk musicians, but overall it was surprisingly quiet; you could hear the wind whipping down the streets. Tents and vending tables crowded several of the main streets near the capitol building, which were all closed off to traffic. They sold every Obama accessory imaginable from Obama-scented incense to Obama pins to gawdy Obama t-shirts with his face in rhinestones. Fried seafood was everywhere, making me feel like I was back in New Orleans.

Barricades were set up along E St. and access to the parade route was only allowed at one or two checkpoints so lines of people several blocks long filled the streets. I waited in one of these for awhile then when we didn't move for a good half hour and it seemed like we'd get to the parade route perhaps in time for Obama's next inauguration in four years, I cut off and went straight to the Washington monument, which is miles from the Capitol but where I figured I'd at least be able to see a jumbo-tron and wouldn't have to hassle with lines quite as much as there were no security checkpoints. As I got a little farther from the Parade route and walked towards the White House along H St., the streets thinned a bit and everyone was in a more relaxed, jovial mood than those struggling to get the best spots. It was a bit surreal: here we were in the midst of this momentous day, for which the streets of D.C. were emptied of traffic, and a lot of people here didn't seem particularly swept up in it; instead they (myself included) wandered around looking for donuts or muffins or coffee.

Eventually I did make it to GW then headed down 18th towards Virginia Ave. and the World War II memorial, joining a thickening stream of people, all walking towards the Washington monument. We got to Constitution Ave, the street bordering the Mall to the North, and real excitement began to set in. Hundreds of clusters of bundled people walked around the frozen Constitution Gardens Lake and across the frost-covered grass separating it and the Reflecting Pool. The jumbo-tron by the WWII monument showed Obama leaving breakfast with the Bushes.

I headed straight to the top of the mound that the Washington monument sits on. A migration of people did the same all across that big field. I squeezed to the Capitol-side of the Washington monument. Down below, a sea of people - each with their little American flag - stretched down the Mall towards the Capitol. There was a jumbo-tron every block, receding towards the Capitol. Despite the mass of people, it was quiet. I could hear the flags that surround the monument flapping in the wind.

I didn't see any protesters, nor did anyone seem overcome with excitement. Most everyone I was standing near seemed content and curious to hear what Obama had to say. The only exceptions were those who'd chosen fashion over warmth and were now shivering uncontrollably. The musical performances of Aretha and Yo Yo were incredible: it was so quiet and the music echoed across the mall and the music, combined with the rustling of the flags, sweeping over such a content, calm crowd was an almost Zen-like experience.

When Obama came on and began speaking, there were occasional cheers but for the most part everyone just perpetually nodded. Unlike Bush's inauguration, it seemed that no matter who you were (there were plenty of Repubs in the crowd, including the couple next to me), everyone was at least listening.

I'd been in some big crowds before, but as Obama spoke and articulated such a transcendent vision for the country, I felt a commonality with everyone that I'd never really felt before. Looking over the crowds of people on the Mall, I felt like everyone one of them was fundamentally a good person. I had this intense feeling that everyone had been drawn there for the best of reasons, a deep-rooted hope and belief in a way of life more in tune with our humanity, and that this somehow bound us all together. Obama seemed to recast so much of ordinary political distinctions as petty, it seemed everyone was seeing each other in a way that everyone wants to see other people, with magnanimity. Unless, of course, that person inched in front, trying to get a better view.

When Obama's speech ended, another mass migration filled the big field by the Washington monument, heading towards the Foggy Bottom metro stops. Being part of such a massive group of people, combined with the drums and colorful uniforms of a military marching band playing on the Elipse, made me feel like I was in the movie Brave Heart. Bush's helicopter glided over the crowd and a couple people flipped a middle finger at its green underbelly or yelled "Bye, bye Bush" or something with more profanities but most people seemed more immersed in the future than the past, or were too cold by that point to care. Despite wanting to beat traffic, I couldn't bring myself to leave and so I lingered around by the monument, watching the streams of people fill 17th st. and the avenues by the reflecting pool below and watching the marching bands preparing for the parade on the Ellipse. A Haitian steel-drum band began playing Amazing Grace and a very diverse crowd gathered around. The Haitians went mobile and, as we all stepped to the beat, again I felt like I was back in New Orleans, following a second line parade (which are awesome by the way).

Eventually, I dragged myself away and drove home, ridiculously excited about the potential for the next four years.

Otherwise, life in New Orleans is good. The Sunday before last I ran the Mardi Gras marathon and finished in 3:30, which was my goal. Work on the Paul's house is coming along well - we are nearing the end of drywall and it's finally starting to look like a house! Also, our weekly training runs and meetings for the Anchorage marathon to raise money for LLS are always a highpoint: people of every age are in the group and watching some of the survivors or family members really push themselves for a cause that has touched them so close to home is incredibly inspiring.


Well hope all is well and I look forward to hearing from you all. Love,

Phil