When I found out that I would be getting a ticket to attend the presidential inauguration, I was ecstatic. Fully aware of Barack Obama’s eloquence, I expected that hearing his undoubtedly historic speech in-person would be the highlight of my trip, if not the highlight of my life. What ensued, however, was a journey that brought me from spotting snipers to buying action figures, from singing Bon Jovi with a girl I’d just met to contemplating the logistics of rebelling against the government. The entire trip, not just the speech, was what made the experience.
In order to get into Washington, D.C., I had to fly home to New Jersey and spend my Sunday morning on the Amtrak to D.C., Joe Biden-style. Both the flight and the train were filled with Obama supporters, and none could contain their excitement about the historic event. I felt a little bad for the few Republicans who must have been traveling with us, but to the winner go the spoils, and our spoils included obnoxiously-sized buttons and lots of chanting.
Arriving in the capitol, the first thing I noticed was that there were cops everywhere. The entire city had turned into N.W.A.’s worst nightmare: Many streets were closed to make room for the police cars, bomb squad trucks, F.B.I. vans and Humvees that were constantly patrolling the area. A pastime among many visitors was pointing out the security snipers that were strategically positioned on buildings all over the city. It was like a game of Where’s Waldo, if Waldo wore a black jumpsuit and was capable of blowing your brains out from 1,000 yards away.
I had arrived in time to see the We Are One concert, which kicked off the inaugural events. Anyone who had taken John McCain’s “Celebrity” ad to heart would have probably suffered a coronary at this show’s star-studded guest list. Performers from Bruce Springsteen to Garth Brooks to Shakira appeared, interspersed with readings by the likes of celebrities such as Steve Carell, Tiger Woods and Samuel L. Jackson.
It seemed to me that most of the musicians simply played their patriotic tune and left, which left it up to U2 to provide us with a personal message. After concluding “Pride (In the Name of Love),” which contained an awkward shout-out to Joe Biden of all people, Bono stared solemnly into the audience and told us that the American Dream is a dream shared by “Europe, Africa, Israel… and Palestine!”
Monday held no official events, so the Mall turned into a bizarre bazaar of Obama kitsch. Some items were standard: t-shirts, buttons and hats. Others were a little more out-of-the-ordinary: One could purchase Obama soap, sunglasses, and a lotion titled “O-Balm-a.” Some products were just inappropriate. Can we now sex up our lovers in Obama-themed lingerie? Yes we can!
Local shops and citizens selling shirts out of their vans weren’t the only ones who got to participate in the whimsy of unbridled capitalism. Several larger companies incorporated the inauguration’s imagery into their ads. Metro stations were plastered with posters with the tagline “Embrace change.” Pepsi handed out scarves and buttons that said “Hope,” but with the “O” replaced by the Pepsi logo. Given the Obama campaign’s success with taglines and branding, expect a lot of corporate piggybacking while his approval ratings are still high.
Generally, the entire event was a huge Obama lovefest. I had expected to see a lot of protesters or pamphleteers, but all I got was a few fundamentalist Christians with signs and a bullhorn. A crowd had gathered as one of them screamed about how God had turned his back on America. Their signs called attention to “baby killing women,” “porn freaks” and “sports nuts,” among others, to let them know that judgment is coming. A few college students eventually started to drown them out with an Obama cheer.
On the other side of the spectrum was a man who continuously waved around a huge sign that said “We have overcome.” This man, who was white, was very popular among those looking to take pictures. I asked myself inwardly whether or not a white man could really decide that “we have overcome,” but decided not to ruin his moment by voicing the question.
Even though I had a ticket, I still had to wake up early the next morning to get a good spot for the inauguration. My day started at 5:30 am, but it began even earlier for many other people. If you’ve ever seen one of those Animal Planet shows where they have clips of migrating wildebeests, you might have a sense of what it was like to crowd through the closed-to-traffic city onto the Mall. I then waited in line for two hours before I was able to pass through a security checkpoint and get my place about 150 yards from the Capitol. Many complained about the cold, but January’s subzero temperatures in Chicago had forever altered my perception of weather. Ten degrees in D.C. was balmy by comparison.
In line, I was surrounded by groups of friends and relatives. Being a lone ticket-holder, I was forced to live vicariously through their conversations; my most in-depth communication at the time was telling a family from New York that I was from New Jersey. This all changed when a woman behind me, upon seeing the security gates up ahead, cried that we were halfway there. The girl standing next to me and I broke out simultaneously into the chorus of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer,” and we bonded instantly. She and her friend were freshmen at UCLA, and they kept me sane through the grueling waiting process.
Once we got in, the buzz on the Mall was all about the president-elect, although no one called him by his name; Obama was simply referred to as He. “When is He going to take the oath?” strangers would whisper to one another. “Will He be walking out with Michelle?” “What do you think He’ll say in His speech?”
The crowd grew restless as His appearance was delayed by superfluous things like a classical music performance, the introduction of those on the inaugural planning committee and Joe Biden being sworn in as vice president. Looking backward at the millions of people assembled to watch, I began to think about what would happen if we were an angry mob instead of a hopeful one. We could have easily stormed the building and probably taken control of the federal government. Worried by my own line of thinking, I nearly panicked when I saw a man pull out a small briefcase and assemble what looked like a high-powered sniper rifle. It turned out to be some huge, ultra-slick camera –- he must have been able to capture every one of Obama’s shiny white teeth with a zoom like that.
Finally, it was time for the speech itself. I remember liking it, although nothing specific was all that memorable. There was no real standout moment, like FDR’s “fear itself” line or JFK asking us what we can do for our country. Obama said that the economy will improve with work, that he will change Bush’s general policy positions and that America can beat terrorists. Don’t get me wrong: All of these are good points to make. In the end, though, we know the reasons we voted for Obama and Obama knows what he was put in office to do. The speech served as nothing more than a reaffirmation of the new president’s purpose over the next four years.
Walking out into the densely packed streets of downtown D.C., I heard a number of people telling family and friends that they had “witnessed history.” I think this is selling the public a little short. The massive crowd, more so than the speech, is probably how this inauguration will be remembered. While Barack Obama achieved a great deal to get to where he is today, he couldn’t have done it without winning all of those votes. My point is that, for all those who watched this moment, either from the Mall, on a television, over the Internet, or across some other medium, you really didn’t witness history. You made it.