Mr. Seth Goes to Washington, Part 3: Inauguration Day
Mr. Seth Goes to Washington, Part 3: Inauguration Day (Written January 21, 2009)
Dear Friends,
I woke this morning with the throbbing pain of heel splints. The physical exhaustion of the marathon walking, standing, waiting, and herding for 14 hours-a-day over this freezing concrete city has finally taken it’s toll. The Messiah may arrive today, and I’d watch on television. (grin).
I tried to write something last night, but my brain and body were in utter retreat. I jotted down a few notes, had two classes of champagne, fumbled with the video camera, and passed out. I actually slept 7-hours for the first time in who knows how long.
So I apologize for not being able to fire off some commentary last night. Again, I was overwhelmed with having too much to say and not knowing where to start or having the strength to figure it out.
I can say for starters that part of the reason for the physical exhaustion is the impossibility of travel across the city. As I understand it, DC has never been in such a lock-down state. Numerous roads were closed to motor and civilian traffic. Metro stations were closed. Some buses were canceled (the one’s I wanted) and others were rerouted.
You were frankly expected to walk. And we did. Walk. and walk. and walk. Mile after mile. In the freezing cold, and without the benefit of a prohibited backpacks to store extra provisions. Argh. Of course to lock-down all these streets requires an army of police officers. According to one officer I spoke to there were police here from 96 departments in 13 states - all bundled to the extreme with face warmers and large mittens, looking calm and being helpful if inquired with, but constantly making those foot shuffle and hand slap gestures of someone who is trying to fend off the biting cold.
I made the mistake of thinking Inauguration Day would be like the day before, which was in the mid to high 30s, and actually pleasant. But no, it was more like the days prior - bitter cold. Sunny at times. Sinister at others.
The officer I spoke to ask for travel help with my rerouted bus said he was North Carolina. Why should I be surprised? The theme of being from somewhere else to come here for this event is central to the experience, and ultimately part of the joy, discovery, and of course, at times, frustration. No one, it seems, actually lives in DC or
knows much about how to get around it…except, I guess, the Secret Police, and they’re not telling! 
I chatted with him for a second and he asked if there was anything he could help me with. I said, “Well, I was going to ask you about a bus route, but seeing as you’re from North Carolina (and I assume here just for security purposes), I don’t suppose you’d know that”. It occurs now, that this statement may sound flippant, but that I assure
the tone was in playful nature - I’m smart enough to know not to be flippant to police in DC on Inauguration Day.
“Try me”, he said with a smile. “Ok”, I said, and asked about the Circular Bus line. You must understand that I had already asked several Metro employees the same question, and they had no idea, so why should I assume a police officer from North Carolina would have the foggiest.
To my surprise, he not only knew about the line, but he knew that it wasn’t running and suggested where I should go to catch an alternate. Wow. I then asked if I could interview him and he said, with a grin, “Probably not now. But thanks for asking.”
Such was a snippet of one of a hundreds of experiences of people just trying to do a mundane thing, on an historic day.
Of course I have the proverbial ten thousand more stories to share, but again, no time. I still need to figure out how to get back to Boston.
Let me quickly convey the emotional highlight of yesterday.
It stems from seeing The Capital for the first time at about 8:30 AM - after standing in line for 100 minutes with thousands of others, freezing my keester off. We had gotten off at station (Capital South) that was further away than we were originally told to get off (Federal Center), because apparently the Federal Center platforms were so crowded with people, the train kept going to the next one. You can’t imaging the mop scene on the Capital South platform where I did manage to exit. It was edge to edge with people and a lady was barking over the loud speaker, “Please keep moving. Exit through the gates. Please keep moving. Quickly and calmly. Please keep moving. Please keep moving. Exit through the gates. Exit through the gates. Quickly and calmly. Please keep moving”.
We were of course, a herd. Baaaa.
But we were a happy herd. I suppose all herds are, absent of wolves.
And that brings up another theme: the happiness and calmness of the crowds. Even the large presence of police and National Guard was in no way a psychological deterrent. The large numbers of National Guard men and who I saw actually looked happy. They were often joking around. They posed for pictures. They held up Obama signs. Of course, most of the National Guard weren’t actually doing anything. There were on hard for precaution, in case it was needed, and even though I describe the city in a “lock-down” regarding traffic, and it was a traffic nightmare beyond belief, there was never a psychic lock-down nor sense of intimidation. In spite of logistic issues
beyond belief, the system worked.
So, back to the platform, despite the crowds and the wrenching loudspeaker lady, the crowd was still ecstatic. They were going to see the Inauguration of *their* president. What else could matter? So, in the midst of all this, the platform crowd started chanting, “Yes we can. Yes we can”, and then, in the transformative moment of a lifetime, the loudspeaker lady started chanting with the crowd, “Yes we can. Yes we can”. The crowd had altered the course of the loudspeaker lady. Indeed, it seems, that anything is possible.
Back outside now, in the bitter breeze, me and the hundred thousand others, who were in my section, who had traveled, and waited, and herded, saw the Capital, and suddenly we knew it was real, and worth it. At that moment I became emotional, because it wasn’t just about a dream, or an event, or crowds, or media, or parades, or history. It was about a man having the right to swear an oath to office, to serve the people who had elected him. And at that moment, when I turned the corner at Third Street and saw the Capital, like a snow capped Mount Olympus, I knew, as did all of us in that crowd, that the day had come.
- s