Inauguration postscript: waiting, watching, swearing in and getting out
After getting some much-deserved sleep last night, I’m back with my second Inauguration journal entry. After hearing about internet users’ trouble with the live webcast and a fellow Duke Chronicler’s unfortunate lockout, I’m increasingly grateful for my relatively smooth, yet tiring, January 20.
After our disappointing failed attempt to attend the free concert on Saturday, we decided to set our alarms for 5am for Inauguration Day. We weren’t alone. In fact, the inhabitants of the opposing apartment had similar plans—both parties slammed their doors at 6:10am, armed with a few snacks, four to seven (not kidding!) layers and a noticeable hop in their steps, especially for a pre-sunrise 3.5-mile stroll to the National Mall.
We speed-walked through Georgetown, braved the long, blustery stretch of road next to the iced-over Potomac, picked a route around a florescent building and headed toward the reflecting pool. At 7am, we could officially lay claim to a spot at the Lincoln Memorial if we wanted, but chose instead to venture past the Washington Monument and onward to the Capitol. We ended up finding a spot in front of the third jumbotron and were right near the Museum of Natural History. Let the waiting begin.
We sat till 8am, when we decided that we’d rather not get kicked every 44 seconds by passers-by. So for the next five hours, it was standing room only for us. Some of our neighbors included a group of 20 high schoolers from San Francisco; several African American ladies (who were way into Bill Clinton); and a group of four Yale Daily News reporters. In fact, those very Yale reporters wrote a story that included one of the students from San Francisco. An excerpt:
But while the cold weather seemed to be a unanimous point of complaint on the Mall, in a crowd of millions, there were bound to be some who saw things another way. One of them was 16-year-old Dylan Smock of San Francisco.
For five minutes, while hoisted in the air on a friend’s shoulders, Smock proudly wore nothing more than a pair of khakis.
He said afterward he was satisfied by his wardrobe choice. In fact, he swore he was not even cold.
“I just wanted to take my shirt off to get 10 seconds of fame,” he explained. “I’m just happy to be here.”
The Yale Daily News writers were the only media I saw that day, or at least were the only ones who had clearly marked press passes. I suspect the great majority of them were up in the ticketed section or in a press section. (Be sure to read a bit about the unique camera angle that took months to approve.) In general, the media coverage was, as I expected, very audience-centric.
For hours we watched re-runs of Saturday’s concert, but finally, after our toes had lost all feeling, a booming voice came through the many speakers, letting us know the official ceremony was to begin shortly. At 11:30am, the foot parade of senators, representatives, cabinet members, family members, foreign guests and other important people began. Who got the biggest boos and claps?
Not too popular: George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, and, entering to the loudest boos of the day was … Joe Lieberman
Crowd-pleasers: Bill Clinton, Oprah, Colin Powell and the Obama kids
My personal favorite: Barney Frank (spend hours with these videos)
Biden’s swearing in went well, as expected. And then it was noon. We expected Diane Feinstein to introduce the chief justice and Mr. Obama, but were instead introduced to a musical foursome that included the legendary Yo-Yo Ma. The crowd groaned, almost unanimously and in unison, when we learned of this brief delay. But then came the now-famous swearing in of Mr. Obama, the new President to the United States.
Or is it President of the United States? Chief Justice Roberts had trouble reading the right words and there were a few hiccups on Obama’s side, too. Let’s just say the crowd could tell, but only cared for about four seconds. The mass, pent up with unexplored anticipation, exploded—with claps, shrieks, gasps and tears—as Obama became this nation’s 44th.
The speech was magnificent in my view. Obama slipped up only once, briefly, and we were able to hear the speech crisply. What struck me about the whole moment was Bush and Cheney’s proximity to Obama, who was implicitly blaming them for a great deal of problems ranging from war to global warming, the drowning economy to failed foreign policy decisions. I will forever remember the speech and the intensity with which his words reverberated off the sacred buildings lining the National Mall. “They will be MET!-met!-met.” And I’ll also remember the many snipers perched atop each building, who, while waiting for the command to shoot, were surely sneaking a listen on this special day.
The reading of the poem gave everyone the cue they needed—the cue to leave! As quickly as one could! We got stuck in several intense logjams, partially due to disjointed advice from National Guard troops and policemen, but got out in only 30 minutes. Joining us on our multi-mile walk back to Georgetown were hundreds of G-Town students, smiling, skipping and enjoying their day off.
Me? I tried to fix my badly-messed-up hair and reflected on the day of school I’d missed. And, boy, did I not care. Statistics 101 could wait. This was history in the making, and my vote and frozen toes helped make it.
UPDATE - 2:10am: The Boston Globe’s Big Picture series of Inauguration-related photos reminded me just how lucky I am to be one of the relatively few people who saw this happen in person. There are many more millions who watched from naval bases, hotel rooms, classrooms and hundreds of countries, and many of those moments are captured in this 48-photo collection.
What are they talking about? Mostly upcoming school projects, actually. These D.C. college kids have been given Tuesday off (and some even Wednesday) in honor of the Inauguration, but for some reason they still pack their libraries to work on schoolwork. Perhaps they’re getting it out of the way in anticipation of a very long Tuesday—in a way, I am, too.
Everyone here has a camera. I have my iPhone, others in my group have their small pocket PowerShots, and many, many people have big ol’ lenses strapped to their expensive Nikon cameras. Press people abound, but not all are “official.” They ride around on what appear to be scooter/rickshaw combination vehicles, snapping photos as they roll by. And of course, there are so many videographers. There are hippies, there are network TV wannabes, there are men and women from the streets of D.C. and L.A, and they are nearly all amateurs with no press credentials. We’ll see if these sorts of people will be allowed full access to the main event.
