January 19th, 2009, 6:01 p.m.
I have never experienced such enjoyment being in such a high concentration of people.
Strangers shaking strangers hands after they trade-off taking pictures for each other. People are saying “sorry” when they bump into you. People are talking about politics and interacting with the inescapable presence of history surrounding them.
After walking around all day, I have parked myself on the floor of a Borders book in search of relief and some internet. I find both. I pay my $5.99 for 24 hours of internet. Looks like I will be returning to Borders.
The atmosphere in here (and everywhere else) is hard to describe, but I’ll try anyway.
It’s like when you have a good hand in poker, and you’re just waiting to play it.
There is a palpable sense of anticipation and enthusiasm. I haven’t seen one person snap at another, which is rare in such a city.
I’m not the only one sitting on the floor of a bookstore. Many other kids, mostly my age more or less, are in the same boat as me—just waiting for the big day tomorrow.
And let me remind you, I voted for McCain.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Not that kind of mall
January 19th, 2009, 11:41 a.m.
Just walked the presidential parade route up Pennsylvania Avenue. Grandstands are being set up on either side at various points. Bar the seating directly outside the White House, I believe the rest of the grandstands are open to the public beginning at 7 a.m.
(For more information go to http://www.crashtheinauguration.com/)
A few blocks from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, a banner hangs off the balconies “WELCOME MR. PRESIDENT! THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT.”
Finally made my way to the National Mall and park myself under the Washington Monument.
I take in my surroundings.
Thousands of people have already littered the 1.9-mile stretch from the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial. Yesterday’s star-studded celebration on the Lincoln Memorial is being replayed on the big-screens and sound system lining the perimeter of the mall.
(This is how most people will watch the actual inauguration since they will be too far to see with the naked eye and un-aided ear).
To my right: the White House
To the front: the Lincoln Memorial
To my back: the Washington Monument and then the Capitol
To my left: a Filipino woman struggling to find the words to ask for a picture.
I take a picture of her with her arms spread out parallel to the grass. You can barely make out Lincoln’s face above hers.
She then asks me to point out where we are on the map. I’m not from D.C., but coupled with my grasp on basic American knowledge and from watching Forrest Gump a few times, I point to the frozen water and tell her it is called the Reflecting Pool and so forth.
She thought the Washington Monument was going to be a statue of Washington himself.
I quickly learn not to sit in one place for an extended period of time. I averaged about one photograph per three people that walked by. One was a group of high school girls from Virginia (they’re school must have started with a “W” because they all made a “W” with their hands. And I’m assuming they weren’t George W. fans.)
I take another picture of a New Hampshire woman and her adolescent son. Instead of telling him to say “Cheese,” she says, “say Obama.”
I overhear a man still ranting about Sarah Palin and John McCain. “Those two in the office,” he said. “Now there’s the end of days. Thank God she lost.”
I take another picture, but hear the man a minute later. “If this was McCain, I wouldn’t be here.”
Also in the background, a replay of Jamie Foxx imitating Barack Obama.
Just walked the presidential parade route up Pennsylvania Avenue. Grandstands are being set up on either side at various points. Bar the seating directly outside the White House, I believe the rest of the grandstands are open to the public beginning at 7 a.m.
(For more information go to http://www.crashtheinauguration.com/)
A few blocks from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, a banner hangs off the balconies “WELCOME MR. PRESIDENT! THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT.”
Finally made my way to the National Mall and park myself under the Washington Monument.
I take in my surroundings.
Thousands of people have already littered the 1.9-mile stretch from the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial. Yesterday’s star-studded celebration on the Lincoln Memorial is being replayed on the big-screens and sound system lining the perimeter of the mall.
(This is how most people will watch the actual inauguration since they will be too far to see with the naked eye and un-aided ear).
To my right: the White House
To the front: the Lincoln Memorial
To my back: the Washington Monument and then the Capitol
To my left: a Filipino woman struggling to find the words to ask for a picture.
I take a picture of her with her arms spread out parallel to the grass. You can barely make out Lincoln’s face above hers.
She then asks me to point out where we are on the map. I’m not from D.C., but coupled with my grasp on basic American knowledge and from watching Forrest Gump a few times, I point to the frozen water and tell her it is called the Reflecting Pool and so forth.
She thought the Washington Monument was going to be a statue of Washington himself.
I quickly learn not to sit in one place for an extended period of time. I averaged about one photograph per three people that walked by. One was a group of high school girls from Virginia (they’re school must have started with a “W” because they all made a “W” with their hands. And I’m assuming they weren’t George W. fans.)
I take another picture of a New Hampshire woman and her adolescent son. Instead of telling him to say “Cheese,” she says, “say Obama.”
I overhear a man still ranting about Sarah Palin and John McCain. “Those two in the office,” he said. “Now there’s the end of days. Thank God she lost.”
I take another picture, but hear the man a minute later. “If this was McCain, I wouldn’t be here.”
Also in the background, a replay of Jamie Foxx imitating Barack Obama.
Kinko's & Coffee
January 19, 2009, 8:28 a.m.
Arrive into D.C. and head to the taxi stand. A man greets me and asks if I need a cab. I say "Yes," and he walks me to a pickup truck. This is no usual taxi, nor a taxi at all. No city markings, no fare meter above the dashboard. I'm either going to be kidnapped or have a pleasant, informative ride to my destination. Pause. It was the latter.
He said there is such a high demand for taxis with all the visitors to the city that they are using any cars they can get their hands on. He then points to a row of ten unassuming cars parked facing the wrong way down the one way street. "Secret Service," he said.
I paid him the ten bucks that he may or may not have arbitrarily set as the price of admission to a ride with a strange man.
I duck into the Starbucks on Pennsylvania Ave. in Market Square. Their latte was garbage, and no outlets were to be seen for my laptop.
I walk down the street and head into a FedEx Kinko's.
Using their internet at 25c per minute. Going to head out to the National Mall now and see the face of it all. Going to meet up later with my friend John who is covering the festivities for his DePaul University newspaper. Right now he is meeting Lonnie Bunch.
Check in with me later...
Arrive into D.C. and head to the taxi stand. A man greets me and asks if I need a cab. I say "Yes," and he walks me to a pickup truck. This is no usual taxi, nor a taxi at all. No city markings, no fare meter above the dashboard. I'm either going to be kidnapped or have a pleasant, informative ride to my destination. Pause. It was the latter.
He said there is such a high demand for taxis with all the visitors to the city that they are using any cars they can get their hands on. He then points to a row of ten unassuming cars parked facing the wrong way down the one way street. "Secret Service," he said.
I paid him the ten bucks that he may or may not have arbitrarily set as the price of admission to a ride with a strange man.
I duck into the Starbucks on Pennsylvania Ave. in Market Square. Their latte was garbage, and no outlets were to be seen for my laptop.
I walk down the street and head into a FedEx Kinko's.
Using their internet at 25c per minute. Going to head out to the National Mall now and see the face of it all. Going to meet up later with my friend John who is covering the festivities for his DePaul University newspaper. Right now he is meeting Lonnie Bunch.
Check in with me later...
I do solemnly swear...
I do solemnly swear to be an Independent who voted for McCain. I never wore an Obama pin on my backpack around campus. I never took cheap shots at Bush in my political science classes. I believed hope to be hype. I believed Democrats held double standards in a vacuum devoid of any historical perspective. I believed Republicans were stuck in a time warp, still viewing the America as the “Leave it to Beaver” suburban middle-class. I believed a plumber had a point. I watch equal amounts of CNN and Fox News. I believe in Iraq. I also just arrived in Washington, D.C. after a 10-hour Greyhound bus ride a day before the inauguration of my President.
This is why…
I do solemnly swear to always be a participant, not a spectator. I have never been one to settle for third person accounts, tangled up in perceived (and real) network agendas.
This zest of mine is usually limited to sporting events, not political milestones, thus adding to the obvious and not-so-obvious allure of the 20th day of this year.
With no prior intention on coming to Washington D.C., I grabbed the first mode of transportation I could get, a 30-row bus with a dog painted on either side. I decided all this 16 hours ago. My fascination of the inauguration first hit me a few nights ago.
C-SPAN was airing the inauguration day of Bill Clinton’s first term, succeeding George H.W. Bush. According to tradition, the outgoing presidential family receives the incoming family at the White House. Inaudible but visible, watching this interaction fascinated me so intensely that I muttered “wow” under my breath, repeatedly.
The concept of what this one man has seen and done, and what the other will see and do, is the very essence of what dragged me out to the nation’s capital to be a firsthand witness of this transition.
This is my account of the inaugural days…
This is why…
I do solemnly swear to always be a participant, not a spectator. I have never been one to settle for third person accounts, tangled up in perceived (and real) network agendas.
This zest of mine is usually limited to sporting events, not political milestones, thus adding to the obvious and not-so-obvious allure of the 20th day of this year.
With no prior intention on coming to Washington D.C., I grabbed the first mode of transportation I could get, a 30-row bus with a dog painted on either side. I decided all this 16 hours ago. My fascination of the inauguration first hit me a few nights ago.
C-SPAN was airing the inauguration day of Bill Clinton’s first term, succeeding George H.W. Bush. According to tradition, the outgoing presidential family receives the incoming family at the White House. Inaudible but visible, watching this interaction fascinated me so intensely that I muttered “wow” under my breath, repeatedly.
The concept of what this one man has seen and done, and what the other will see and do, is the very essence of what dragged me out to the nation’s capital to be a firsthand witness of this transition.
This is my account of the inaugural days…
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