It was bitter cold, but Kirsten and I bundled up and headed down to the Mall. I wore my long underwear and my thickest wool socks. The Metro looked busy, so we caught a bus downtown that dropped us off at K Street. Then was joined the growing crowds moving down 18th Street. Eulynn had a plan to situate ourselves near the Washington Monument, and we found a reasonably good view of a jumbotron on which to watch all the proceedings. Unfortunately, as the crowds grew the view afforded to the shorter members of our group disappeared. It was very cold, and the winds picked up every now and then, but it was bearable. Rev. Warren's inaugural prayer was as douchey as I expected, but it was pretty funny the way he said the names of Obama's daughters. "Sasha!!!" But the oath and address were great to hear firsthand, and everybody cheered.We overheard later that there were no "crazies" there. Not true for us. In front there were loud, obnoxious, atheist liberals and behind us were loud, obnoxious republicans who cheered every time Chief Justice Roberts was mentioned, as though his nomination to head of the Supreme Court was a big "take that!" in response to Obama's election.
On the way out, we became lodged in a human logjam between the barrier fences, a line of porta-potties, and blockading tour buses. We finally made it through and scooted around a second line of porta-potties to escape the crushing crowds. There was a bit of mayhem and people were stymied on how to get out of the Mall. My legs were stiff from standing in the cold, and it was nice to begin walking again. We walked up 19th Street to Connecticut Ave. all the way to Woodley Park. By then we were so cold, exhausted, and hungry that we stopped in at Open City. It had been so long since I last ate breakfast, I think my stomach didn't know what to do with a dose of hot food. After eating, Kirsten and I hobbled the rest of the way home, opened up some wine, took a bath, and slobbed around for the rest of the day. We left the apartment that morning just after 8 AM and didn't return until about 4:45 PM. Yes, it was a long day in the cold, but it was worth it.
Kirsten and I were talking about it, and we agree that we are glad to be living in DC during this historic time, and that we have the chance to experience it and partake in it firsthand. She wonders if this is our version of Woodstock or the 1963 March on Washington... if this is our touchstone event defining the cultural politics of our generation.
