Days of Joy in DC

Millions of happy people gathered from across the nation to witness the first African-American president being sworn in.

Having traveled all night, I arrive in Ronald Reagan International Airport a quarter after 9AM on the historic day. On my way to the metro, I grabbe a generously sized cup of coffee, a steaming pretzel and a sandwich to store up my batteries for the day.

Jumping into the first metro, that arrives, I couldn’t help noticing that a sound proportion of the passengers are heavily dressed black wearing some kind of Obama gear, e.g. the popular knitted hat or buttons.

Wanting to be time efficient, I get off at l’Enfant metro stop, since it is the closest one to the National Mall coming from the airport. I’m not sure whether that is a particularly bad idea or if the outcome would have been the same of worse if I had gone off at a later stop. Anyway, it seems that a good part of the people heading for the Mall had gotten the same idea as me—at the same time as me. So we are thousands—THOUSANDS—crammed onto the platform and all floor ground inside the metro stop.

“We’re from Tennessee, are you from Tennessee?”, shouts a black guy smilingly to another group of black guys 10 meters away. “No, we’re from Michigan”, he replies returning the smile. General laughter around me follows. As we slowly mount the stairs to the upper floor of the metro station, people in front of me dare to turn around to take pictures of the crowd behind them. The metro guards fortunately soon give up following the rules of ticket checking and open all gates so the crowd can disperse faster. Despite the tightness and the time, now 9.40, no one is pushing. Everyone is having a kind face on, crowds ahead of us are cheering as they see daylight, a sign that the exit of the metro station is near. Crammed on the steep escalators from the metro station, people again turn a round to take pictures of the cheering crowd.

View Spot Hunting
10:00 AM: On the surface, I follow the crowd heading left on Constitution Avenue, i.e. away from the Capitol, along the National Mall. Police and military guard the closed areas to the right of Constitution Ave, which are already full. I don’t mind too much, I’m just grateful to be here on this immense day in history, surrounded by happy people in the frost clear blue skied sunshine. So the crowd and I walk on slowly along the Mall, hoping to see an entrance. We pass the beautiful castle-like Smithsonian Museum and the North Building on the Mall side before some of us see our luck of no guards being around a fenced area. So we jump the fence. Some lending a supporting hand the each other.

10:30 AM: So I’m behind the fence! But where do I find a good spot so I can see something? At least get a tolerable view of one of the jumbo screens? My first idea is to follow the stream again. That lead me closer to the center of the Mall, but completely deprives me of seeing anything but knitted Obama hats, furry uchankas and the like. So I find a small stream of people I can follow to gently move backwards again and further down the Mall, away from the Capitol. While doing that another stream is heading in the opposite direction. All smiles, despite the rock concert tightness of people. The ones happy with their spot, politely give space to small streams passing them back and forth. No one is pushing or irritated. I have never—NEVER—seen so much happiness, politeness and patience gathered in such a tight and plentiful crowd!!!

11:30 AM: Just as the ceremonyy started, I find a spot from which I got a fair view of a jumbo screen: right by the temporary toilets. Fewer people show interest in staying there (I guess they expected it to smell, but miraculously it didn’t) The ground is a bit higher here too, raising me above the crowd right in front of me. I look around me: Next to me is a girl, about 8 years old standing on a backpack in order to see better. Next to her, her Caucasian father, and next again her black mother. Everyone else around me are African-American people of all ages, though mostly young. Some agile young people (some with children) have climbed the toilets to get a free view. Others have climbed the slim trees spread around the Mall, standing in more or less comfortable positions throughout the whole ceremony.

When an older black woman is getting dizzy, people from the crowd help her out, despite their risk of losing their spot to see the start of the Inauguration.

11:50 AM: People cheer politely as Joe Biden is sworn in as VP, but that cheer is silent compared to the thundering roar for Obama when he is sworn in – a few minutes late (after noon) and by a Supreme Court President who manages to mess up the swearing in words as old as the Constitution--twice. Fortunately, that doesn’t destroy the mood of the crowd. Thousands of waving paper flags from the hands of the crowd. Tears of happiness, smiles, hugs and kisses when Obama gives one of his best speeches yet. One that tears up eyes not just in this crowd, but all over the world.

As soon as Obama had finished his speech, the crowd slowly leaves the Mall, even though the Inauguration Day is far from over. I fear it is because everyone is trying to get a good watch spot at the Inaugural Parade that is supposed to start at 2PM after the President Obama, VP Biden and their wives have had lunch with the senators and their wives in the Capitol.

1:00 PM: Optimist as I am, I stride through the crowds heading for Pennsylvania Ave right by the Capitol, hoping to get a good spot to watch the Obama family start the Inaugural Parade. My optimism paiys off: I get a first row spot right by the security fence and start chatting with some of the police officers standing guard along the fence together with the other armed services in their uniforms.

Waiting for the Parade
When I was standing at the Mall I felt just perfectly dressed for the weather, protected from the wind gusts by the row of temporary toilets and the tight crowd. Now, standing here in open space, I realize my former luck. The wind gusts make me drag up my warm, furry collar as high as possible while I try to keep out the cold by jumping and stepping.

“Are you cold?”, Tiesha asks me. She’s a black police officer in her 30’s guarding the inside of the fence. “Yes, the wind gusts are rough, but besides that I’m fine”, I reply. The weather leads us into talking about Seattle and Denmark. Tiesha is impressed I came from so far away to be at the Inauguration.

“How long have you been standing here?”, I ask Tiesha.

“Since 2 AM”, she says.

“2 AM!!, Wow, you must be tired then!”, I say. She replies with a smile that shows some sign of fatigue.

Taking care of a president’s security is more than a full time job: Tiesha’s gonna have to stay here till 6 AM, AND go to work again next morning. She doesn’t know what paid time off is. I’m glad I’m not a police officer.

2:00 PM: Two black women in their 40’s have arrived and are now standing next to mee, waiting to see the Obama family. Parade-wise, nothing is happening, so we start chatting, asking where we’re from.

“I flew all night to be here. I landed twenty past nine this morning”, I said.

“We got up at 2 AM to be on the Amtrak from Maryland”, said Darlene wrapped in a blanket outside her winter coat.

If that’s the general story of people arriving to the Mall in DC, then I’m less surprised why the vast majority of the crowd hurried home/inside after Obama’s speech.

Police on Wheels
3:00 PM: Something is finally happening. A band of sporty policemen come biking up the hill towards us, in the opposite direction of the parade.

“Ah, here comes the fit parade”, I say to a tough New York type policeman standing next to me. He smiles broadly. Some of the other guards smile too. Maybe by the thought that at least they all look pretty bad-ass in their uniforms, but they don’t look stupid. These guards clearly had to suffer the cold temperatures for their vanity. I was surprised to see that the army uniforms don’t even come with a scarf. So the closely shaved heads and necks were completely unprotected against the wind. Brrrrrr!

Shortly after we hear the smooth humming of Harley’s in the right direction of the parade. That’s a gang of policemen on motorbikes starting the parade. Finally! I try to wiggle my fingers, hoping to get the blood moving, so I can hold still the video camera I borrowed from a kind friend. Beautiful machines, these Harley Davidsons. I really like the sound too.

Right after them came some boring open trucks carrying camera men and journalists from the big networks. And then…the first black security cars surrounds a limousine…can that be the one?, I wonder? Nope, that’s Biden and his wife. Then it must be the one right after, I think, looking at the next limousine surrounded by walking guards slowly approaching.

A Sight Tatooed in My Mind
As the second limousine is right in front of me, just about 5 meters away, I see the Obama fail my through the slightly tainted windows, all waving to me and the few others lined up to see them. The guards kept their stone faces on as they must, but I and the few people around me cheered, waved and took pictures with their iPhones, digi-cams and video cams.

I must admit I shed a little tear of exaltation being so close to these two amazing grown-ups who hold so much promise for the future in their hands. So close to me, looking at me, waving to me. That was worth freezing my fingers half off for, having the start of the parade almost to myself. Even if it was an hour late.

As soon as they had passed, I get the email addresses for Tiesha and Darlene so I can send them my video of the moment, and I walk off, bubbling with joy like a shaken bottle of champagne. I sigh with happiness, spread out my arms to the sky, Hello World – here we come!!!!

Walking off turned out to be easier said than done. Since there’s still 3 hours to go before the endless row of high school bands dressed up for the occasion have finished, most roads are still closed off—also for pedestrians. So it takes me another few hours of circling around the city before I manage to find a way out that leads me in the right direction: to the charming area around P Street where Pete’s friend Larissa lives. She’s been so kind to let me sleep at her place while I’m in town.

I check e-mails in my room (she has a guest room, how great is that!), and go downstairs to meet Larissa’s friends that are in town for the Inauguration. Larissa takes us to this charming restaurant on P Street a few minutes walk from her house. Everyone is tired but my day is still far from over.

Looking for a Party
After dinner I walk back downtown to try my luck getting in at the Youth Inaugural Ball, guessing that that’s where most of the fun (and good reportage pix) will be. No luck. Not only do the bouncers outside claim that the party’s over. It’s 11:30 PM. The party is supposed to go on till 2:30AM.

People in full dress (galla) waving their tickets are also told to go home! People are furious. They don’t believe that the party’s over so they refuse to leave. A couple in full dress and with tickets tell me that they came earlier in the evening, and were still told the party was over, and that they should go home. Back home, they had turned on the tv, and seen MVT still sending live from the party. Knowing the party was still happening, they hurried back, now standing here still being refused. All these heels, gowns and tuxedos in the tearing cold for nothing. Not ok.

After a while, a representative from the party comes out and tells everyone, “yes, the party’s over, go home. Your tickets will be refunded”. Still not ok. You just don’t do that to people who had been spending a ton of dollars on outfits, looking so much forward to the event. Obama and Michelle showed up at all the 10 official Inaugural Balls. And then fob people off with “Your tickets will be refunded”. It turned out that the people arranging the party had sold 1000 too many tickets, so they stopped letting people in shortly after the party started.

Well, I thought, I’m not in full dress anyway, so even if the others could get in, I might not have been able to, even if I waived my press card. So I leave the angry crowd and head for the unofficial Obama Girl Filibuster Party that I had received a few emails from during the day, thinking that many of the people turned down at the Youth Inaugural Ball might try their luck here.

Not so. The bouncer at the entrance happens to be a journalist himself (when not a bouncer on Inauguration Day) so he takes pity on me and let me in for free, even though my clothes is not anywhere close to full dress. There are about 20 people inside, most of them pretty black women in their 30’s, and a few white men. The two women I interview are both politically active, volunteers in their states (Chicago, IL, and LA, California), so taking a quick look at the rest of the crowd I figured that they all were. “Filibuster party”, I think to myself, yea, I should have guessed it would be for a politically active crowd, but the “Obama Girl” in the title made me hope it would attract a lot of young, party people. Guess not.

I head back to my room, write the reportage and press the ‘send’-button at 3 AM.

The Day After
Set the alarm for 8:15 AM. I have a coffee appointment with my senator Patty Murray of Washington State in the Dirkson Senate Office Building. Hoping I could get some good quotes and see the inside of the magnificent Capitol was just enough to drag me out of bed, even though I could definitely use a few more hours of sleep after a night of barely no sleep at all (shifting air planes heading to DC) and 5 hours this past night.

The weather is still gorgeous and cold. I’m still high on happiness from the day before, as I head to the nearest metro stop. Man, I miss descent public, fast transport! A pity, that Pete and I will be long gone before they finally finish the metro in Seattle, I think, as I sit in the underground tube.

Coffee with my senator turned out to be coffee with a lot of Washingtonians who had hoped to have coffee with Patty Murray. She had already left for meetings. Which is fair, I guess, since it’s her job after all. But still a bit disappointing when you get an invitation from her saying from 8-11, feel free to drop in at any time in that time span.

Ah well, I chap up two teenage girls wondering why they are here. It turns out they are active in Seattle! Wow! I was somewhat more selfish and interested in more mundane things like boys and pop music when I was that age.

Chatting with a black woman that I approach because I thought she was a journalist I met at the Obama rally in Seattle a year ago, she tells me that she’s sure her high school mate working for Patty Murray will give me a admittance ticket for the Capitol. Thus reinvigorated, I approach the girl, head for the Murray office, get a blue ticket for the Senate Floor signed by Senator Murray herself, and stride out of the Dirkson Senate Office Building, heading the few hundred meters for the Capitol.

Inside the Capitol
11:20 AM: There’s next to no security check line so once I’m inside the building, a guard tells me to hurry to the Senate floor because a session is about to start at 11:30, and the doors will be closed thereafter. Feeling really lucky, I head for the audience seats in the Senate Floor. Wow. I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here, in this historic room, listening to John Kerry and John McCain debate whether Hillary Clinton should be accepted as the next Secretary of State! What a pity I had to leave all my gear at the wardrobe—no pictures allowed.

We are only a few in the audience at this moment, so I take advantage of sitting close to the guard by the door, asking him all kinds of questions about what I’m looking at: “All these young people in dark blue suits down there on the floor, who are they? Are they interns?”, I ask. The guard (black, like almost all staff I notice) tells me they are high school A-students who had won the possibility to work for the Senate. “Wow”, I whisper back, I’d have loved such a job in high school!

Not true, that the doors would be closed at 11:30, sadly. Until the session break at noon people keep on pouring in, filling up all seats in the audience. I have go give up my good seat next to the guard to make space for the incoming crowd. No matter, I think, as I lean forwards to get a better look of what’s going on down on the Senate floor.

Getting a House Floor Ticket
As everyone has to leave their seat during the session break, I head for the elevator, wondering how I can get my hands on a ticket for the House Floor. My memory of the names of the Washington House members is more shady, and finding the right person in the right building and office would cost me precious time.

Again, luck strikes me. In the elevator a staff woman in a yellow suit is holding a bunch of unsigned yellow House Floor tickets. I put on my most charming innocence asking her “Do you know where I can get such a ticket?” She’s in a good mood: “Yes, here you are”, she replies and hands me one of her tickets. I thank her and smiles broadly, remembering to silently thank my god of good fortune.

So I head for the opposite side of the Capitol, for the House Floor, seeing wonderful wall decorations on my way. The House Floor is much bigger, of course, but the debate much less spectacular, so I only stay for a moment. The sudden dense audience also makes it less interesting.

13:40 PM: Exiting the elevator again, I ask this guard standing right outside if there’s any way I can get or buy pictures of “this beautiful building”. He looks at his watch: “If you come back at 3 o’clock, I’ll give you a personal tour myself, and then you can take all the pictures you want”. I get so happily surprised that I catch myself making a crazy happy face before I could control myself: “Deal! I’ll be back at three then”, I said.

Now I really noticed that I hadn’t eaten anything since the evening before, so I head down to the public canteen in the public entrance area.

A Personal Tour
3:00 PM: Sharp, I stand in front of the kind guard whose shift is just happening, he’s off for the day. Larry Gould is 55 years old, a former marine that has worked in the Capitol for 16 years. “I’m starting to get bored. Nothing never happens here”, he said. I stared at him in shock: “YOU are spoiled talking like that! Sometimes it’s a luxury to be bored. I would LOVE to work here!”, he smiles admittedly.

He starts by taking me to the stairs Obama walked down to get to the West Balcony where he gave his speech. “Obama walked these stairs before he gave his speech”, Larry said. Ok, but that didn’t beat my amazement when he leads me to the actual spot where Obama was inaugurated and gave his speech. “Right here”, I thought to myself. “He was standing right here. This is what he saw. All these people filled with happiness because of his words.” I get chills, not sure whether it’s because of the brisk temperatures of emotion.

We walk on to the Capitol Dome, the Statuary Hall where Obama had lunch just yesterday with the senators, the Crypt, down amazingly richly decorated halls—they made me think of the Russian Winter Palace even though I haven’t been there—and down a tiny winding staircase—with a sign saying “staff only”—I felt lucky again, always loved to explore all corners of interesting buildings—especially the forbidden ones. It turns out this staircase is the only original part left of the Capitol since a big fire burned it to the ground in the Independence War. Along the tour, he greeted the other guards making sure I didn’t have to go through any security so I could take all my gear with me: video cam, digi cam and mobile phone (with built-in camera). I will never forget his kindness!

















As we depart he promises me he will give me and my husband a tour next time we’re in town. He makes me write down his name so I get it right. “But then you’ll have to promise me not to retire in any near future”, I said, “because it will be a while before I can be back here”. He smiles and promises me he won’t.

Just before it gets too dark for outdoor pictures, I make it to the White House, which is closed for the day, Obama’s first day in office. So we are a bunch of people standing outside taking pictures.

After twilight I walk back towards the cozy P Street to shop at Wholefoods there. I’m going to cook for Larissa tonight to thank her for hosting me. She has an exam tomorrow morning and is crazy busy, in need of power-food.

Walking in this city knowing it will be the last time in a long while, I make sure to take a deep breath of it, savouring it’s beauty. As I didn’t expect at all to fall in love with New York, I have been happily surprised to feel so at home and so happy here. I hope this will be the next stop on our home hopping list, if not Paris or New York come first.