Current mood:

contemplative

Memories 5 Days Old
So Obama’s been president for 5 days. I’ve heard good things about funding to family planning clinics and stem cell research. That’s not really what I want to write about though.
In a certain way I want to forget Tuesday January 20th. It certainly didn’t go as planned. I still squirm a little in embarrassment when I think about it. Still, it was a moment and perhaps in a year I’ll want to remember it. So here it is.
I got up at 12:30 am, dressed and went down to the lobby to meet Melissa from Michigan. I’d known her for all of 2 days, but I rather liked her. I wore the new blue turtleneck, the turquoise Zuni jewelry I’d bout and the little stretch Obama bracelet. Not to mention 2 pr socks and various other articles of warmth. I grabbed the green silk bag, already packed, and took off. I was in the Marriot Wardman Park, 5054 with Keri from Missouri.
Melissa was already downstairs in her red wool coat – my best way of picking her out in a crowd. We headed off at 1:00, intending to walk into downtown Washington (if such a place exists), eat on the way and be plenty early for the mall to open at 4 am.
First we walked the wrong way for about ten minutes. After consulting a map, we turned around, found the bridge we should have crossed and followed Connecticut right down to the mall area. On our way we stopped at a strange little diner-type joint with bright weird walls and good food. I had an omelet with spinach, swiss and tomatoes and she had some kind of chicken wrap and a little bowl of fruit. I also got to have chocolate milk, a big treat. After breakfast we continued on, finally reaching the end of Connecticut and beginning the walk down from 19 to 3. Around 6 things began to look sketchy, and one theme of the walk had been the very few people around as we did it – a fact which both made us nervous and elated us. On the one hand we worried we’d fucked up somehow, on the other it looked like we’d get a choice spot on the mall.
We were turned back at 3 and the impression was given that it was a ticketed entrance only. We walked back to 6 and waited there a while. I sat on a concrete traffic block and we talked to a man who’d left home three days ago and slept on the streets since then just to be there that morning. As we had both cooled down a lot while not walking, we had a great deal of respect for his resilience. We were finally shooed off to 7, where we waited in a like about ¾ of a block long for about an hour. It was cold. I cannot stress the unbearable cold that was beginning to drive me out of my mind, along with the knowledge that I couldn’t get out of it for at least 8 hours and might be trapped longer. We alternately shivered, bounced on our feet and went tiredly still. Though we’d chattered like magpies for most of our acquaintance, Melissa and I began to talk less and later there would be hours where we barely said anything to each other.
Past four, the line began to move at a much faster clip, till we were practically running down the street and around the corner. We went down to the intersection past which the check point was set up and stalled. At first we were at the edge of the crowd, but as people milled we edged in further. Shortly it became impossible to tell just where we were in the mass of people, the only references being the buildings.
Dawn. The crowd had moved little and was agitated, though only vocally. Occasionally someone would begin a chant, the subjects ranging from ‘let us through’ to ‘Obama!’. Melissa and I got talking to a pair of girls in front of us who tried to pass the time singing. I functioned as teleprompter for the 60’s songs. We warmed from the body heat of the crowd, but our feet froze into hard, aching little lumps. The sky reddened then blued out and became lighter.
To our left a group of policemen had gathered at a window overlooking the intersection n in which over a thousand of us were packed. At first we shouted at them and waved, smiling while they took pictures. As the crowd remained immobile feelings turned and I, among many, flipped the gawpers off. The remained there for the rest of the morning, eventually joined by soldiers who also took out cameras and chattered to each other.
At some point, perhaps just after twilight, a chopped took to circling us and a rumor began that a policeman was missing. The truth of that I can not verify, but multiple times chains of cops on foot or on bikes would wend their way through the crowd.
The mall, as far as we had known, was to open at 4. By dawn we were all wondering what had happened. There was no one to ask and a sense of helpless frustration was in everyone. Around 8 I called first Lauren then Ralph, hoping that they had some information from the news. Neither did, though it was suggested that the mall was full. I attempted to find information online but could get nothing.
Long after the two girls (Texas and Jersey) had stopped singing, an older black woman who we’d been next to for hours began to sing We Shall Overcome. I joined, as did a few others, though I doubt many knew the words. After the song I spoke to the woman. She was a schoolteacher and had been in the Carolinas (Birmingham, presumably )for the bus boycott. She was intensely emotional, though I might have been as well. I tanked her for Birmingham, she thanked me for electing Obama. I think, of all the things that haunt me, the greatest is her. I hope she made it to the mall.
Lots of people had given up and made their way out of the crowd. I had even wished to early on after a few quiet panic attacks from the press of the crowds. One girl near us had left, and just after 9 we heard form the companion she’d left behind that she was on the mall. There was a hurried discussion. Our ‘line’ had begun to move at 8, but security was letting them through just four stations one at a time and there was no guarantee we’d make it through in time to see anything. Added to that, we had found out that this was the entrance for the parade, not the inauguration. There was supposed to be a way through but I was skeptical. Finally, cold, tired, frustrated and still hopeful, we left. There were many of us, the singing girls, the boy who’s girl had started it, others that had stood nearby. We pressed uncomfortably through the crowd, apologizing the whole way. Once free we broke into half-runs practically frolicking.
It got both warmer and colder. Walking, our feet warmed, but our faces and general body temps froze. We were headed for 19, back where Melissa and I had come from. The streets looked apocalyptic. There were no cars, just scores of people walking and blown pieces of abandoned trash. At times there would be other lines for checkpoints which we skirted. There were sometimes vendors as well, selling food and the ubiquitous Obama merchandise.
There was a quick discussion of whether to stop at the Hard Rock Café that the conference had supposedly rented for us, but we decided to go on and try to get to the mall in person. We were all punchy and weaving, our feet feeling swollen and teetery, as if the soles were rounded. There was no way in at 19, but an officer directed us up 19 to I. It was about 10:00 am. We got to I and began down it. We hit a dip from which we could see the street in front of us.
There were thousands. Like a holy day at Mecca, the pilgrims were thousands strong. I turned around. I badly wanted to see the inauguration live and couldn’t bear the thought of waiting in that crowd and missing it entirely. I walked away and no one came with me.
I put on Rent and walked on anger back to the Hard Rock. Arriving to find out that it had not been properly booked I was barely surprised. It was par for the course for the conference. I walked 10 blocks back to the press building. The middle schoolers were on their way out, debunking the rumor that they had gotten ticket when we hadn’t. I was directed to the 13th floor where I was told there was hot chocolate.
In the ladies’ I broke my necklace (only a link thank God, and easily fixed after some sleep) and discovered that after having my hair down for hours, I looked like a homeless woman. I did what I could, put it up in a ponytail and went back out. There was no hot chocolate, but now that I didn’t have to worry about holding it for hours I had a sweet, milky coffee. I sat on the floor with my back to the wall facing a huge flat screen and waited.
I slept through some guests, Aretha and Biden’s swearing in. I woke up for Yo-yo Ma and stood for Obama’s inauguration and speech, afraid that if I sat I’d be asleep again.
Was I moved? Yes, but perhaps not as much as I’d have been in my own home and semi-sane. Was I grateful? Then? No. Now? Maybe.
They served us tiny croissant sandwiches and chips which I ate while watching the benediction. I was pleasantly unangered by it. I stood for the Star Spangled Banner and left as soon as it was done. I took the metro to the hotel, cried in my bathroom, took a hot bath then fell asleep as if drugged. I did not attend the ball, choosing instead to commiserate with an equally depressed Melissa over incredibly good Japanese. The worst part? They had made it to the mall.