Inauguration Week Day Three - Tue 1/20

'tis finally here. The big day. A restless night's sleep ends with me waking up by myself with no alarm needed at 3:00am; the 3:15 alarm is turned off without even using it. James offers to drive me to the end-of-the-yellow-line Huntington station so I won't have to park the Jeep there. "Naw," I say, "it won't be bad that early." Oh but it was. We pass the line of cars to get into the parking deck and I leap out at the Metro entrance. I am on the train at 4:05am and the train departs at 4:10am. Damn! Missed the first train of the day, but got on the 2nd. Getting dropped off was indeed a good idea.

My destination: the L'Enfant Plaza stop. I arrive at 4:45am. We are corralled through just one of the station exits onto 7th street. We make our way towards the Mall as one mass of humanity. It is COLD. The Mall entrance is gated off and cops are all around. For such an enormous crowd, patience rules the day. No one is bitter, no one is swearing, we're all just excited to witness history in a few (well, many) hours. Around 5:15am the gates open. Standing in the crowd awaiting this moment, we are all shoulder-to-shoulder and front-to-back; we are all touching. Once that gate opens, we move as one flowing blob onto the Mall; we shuffle our feet, but at no time did I stop touching those around me! No ricocheting off shoulders. No space in between the person in front of you. We moved as one gigantic mass of flesh. Surreal.



So now we're on the Mall. It's cold. It's 5:30am. The oath will occur at noon. There is some time to kill. So basically, me and 2 million of my closest friends shiver and hug and stay close and tell stories and share Obama sightings. One big kumbaya fest.

The sun begins to rise. The chance of possible warmth is exhiliarating. Flags are passed out to the crowd by volunteers. A couple next to me peeters out and actually leaves by 7:00am; they did not dress appropriately and were icicles in short order. Cardboard from recycle bins is comandeered and flattened so we can stand on it; standing on the ground itself begins to feel like standing on a block of ice. We begin to feel terrible. Standing for hours in the cold with no hope of an end for hours and hours.

The previous Sunday was a concert at the Lincoln Memorial. U2, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, etc. all performed. As we approach 9:00am, the Jumbotrons warm up and we are entertained by the taped HBO broadcast of the concert. At least now we have something to look at besides each other; we're starting to lose steam and almost run out of things to say to each other. The concert allows us to wave our flags and dance the morning away. The dancing was great to get the blood flowing and feeling back to our legs!



Then, once the concert is over, military bands begin to play to entertain us. The official program has begun. On the huge Jumbotrons, cameras cut away to motorcades and tinted windows making their way to the Capitol. We have no idea who is in these vehicles, but once the screens show sunglassed Secret Service agents and black tinted windows, the crowd goes wild. Eventually, the announcer states the arrival on the dais of various legislators. Senators, Representatives, dignitaries, and finally....former Presidents. Then, once and for all, a particular attendee arrives on the Capitol steps....


Wow.

Now things move quickly. Introductory remarks, a prayer, and then, the big moment....


In my video , if you can actually hear over the roar of the crowd, you can hear me babble like a baby with joy as I cry. Instant tears stream down my face. It hurts. My face is virtually frozen and the tears plow tracks through the icy cheeks. Joy that words cannot entirely express. "Congratulations, Mr. President." Unbelievable.


Then about 12:30pm, there is a reading by a poet, and a concluding prayer. Then, it's over. It's all over. The Inauguration proceedings are over. By 1:00pm, I begin to make my way to the Metro to try to get to the north side of the Mall where most of the restaurants are. I've been up for 9 hours now and haven't had anything to eat or drink for fear of having to go to the bathroom. I switched my brain over to "Pharmacy Retail" and hypnotized my bladder into a zen-like state. But now, it would really be good to grab a bite to eat.

There are people everywhere. 2 million leaving the Mall at the same time. With no exit information or signs to guide us. The line to the ONE Metro stop near us (L'Enfant) is enormous. It would be suicidal to try to get to the Federal Center SW stop closer to the Capitol. So, I make my way on foot to try to find a spot to cross Pennsylvania to the north side of the Mall.

The parade will be down Pennsylvania from the Capitol to the White House. 2 miles. 1st Street to about 17th Street. Follow the black line I drew on the Mall map from my viewing spot at 4th Street to see my impossible path to a possible lunch and a beer. Click on the image to make it larger and just see the route I had to take.
My circuitous route finally gets me to the L'Enfant Metro stop at 3:00pm. Two hours of meandering and wandering. Another mob of humanity shuffling their feet as one mass down to the trains. By 5:30pm I am back at Huntington station and James and the boys pick me up. Frozen and hungry, they take me to Old Town to an open (this time) Bilbo Baggins for soup, dinner, and bottles of Delirium Tremens Belgian beer.

Satiated and relatively warmer, we make our way back to the Brannons to split three nightcaps of celebratory 18% ABV (or sometimes 20%) Dogfish Head 120-Minute IPA. Two bottles aged in the Gordonian "cellar" from 2003 that were thick and malty like a barleywine, and a "fresher" bottle from 2006 that still kept plenty of its hoppy bite. 120-Minute. Get it? 120. 1/20. January 20. Far too clever for my own good sometimes.

Exhausted. Full. Buzzed. It's bedtime. A long day, but truly an AWESOME day. One I may never forget. "May" never? Hell, I WILL never forget!

President Barack Obama.

Wow.