Attending the 2009 Presidential Inauguration

“I was one lucky bastard.”

The Ticket
What was the inauguration like with a ticket? Well, it was an amazing experience of course. Specifically with a Silver Ticket it meant that you had a better view than at least 90% of the attendees. All two hundred thousand ticket holders were extremely lucky to have the honor in the first place, but unfortunately some people didn’t get to their gates early enough to use their tickets—which was a problem nobody expected. Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels was one of the ticket holders who had to return to his hotel to watch the Inauguration on TV.

Capitol at Sunrise

To be one of the lucky among the lucky, you had to be awake not much later than 3:30 a.m. to get on the DC Metro—which opened at 4:00 a.m. You had to make sure you got off at the correct Metro station for your ticket gate, otherwise you’d probably miss your chance to get in your designated line (the entire Mall was sectioned off with fences and concrete for security and crowd control). But in being there early, you were able to see the sunrise over the Capitol once in the line at the gate. I won’t forget that.

Into Position

After waiting several hours at the gate line (with constant weird-sounding sirens blaring all around us), you were finally prompted to proceed into the Mall. Heading towards the security check, you had to hold your tickets above your head while walking through a fenced-in area of security guards—each armed with M-16 assault rifles. Finally after a good pat-down from security, you were in your fenced ticket area. I settled on a location where I could see both the Capitol and a large viewing screen. A friendly family from Charleston, SC had the same strategy, so we got to know each other pretty well for the next several hours before things started.

Screen at the Capitol

What Could I See?
Good thing I just got new glasses, but at best I could only generally make out what was happening on the Capitol steps—I couldn’t make out any specific figures. I imagined I’d be closer, but behind the VIP seating section was a long reflection pool that set us Silver Ticket holders a stretch back. I discovered this on Sunday, so I didn’t rush things Tuesday morning. That’s a good thing because…

The Temperature
25 degrees. I’m originally an Ohioan; I can handle that and much colder. But I’ve never stood in one place at 25 degrees for seven hours. No complaints; I tried to put my mind in Yogi mode to adjust. My mind was

Cold Out There

fine, but my feet were frozen along with everyone else’s. I jogged in place for close to three hours. Mothers were rubbing their children’s feet for warming friction. The father of the family I was standing next to must have once been a boxer, as he shadow boxed, dodged, and danced his time away. All of my faux yogi mind-over-matter attempts of the past have flopped—but I’ve since learned my limits. I knew I had to keep my circulation going, and it wasn’t going to happen by concentrating on warm thoughts alone.

Behind Me

With a hundred thousand people in front of me, I felt like I was pretty far back. But then I’d look behind me–

Crowd Behind

-another 1.8 million people in the non-ticketed areas appeared as speckles of color. Even though I had spent the better part of the last two days walking the National Mall (which took hours each time), I couldn’t comprehend the size of the crowd that was now extending all the way back to the Lincoln Memorial. With the camera on wide angle, I extended my arm to get the most expansive crowd shot I could. While taking these shots I suddenly noticed the nearly surreal crispness of the day. The weekend had been overcast, but inauguration day had the clearest visibility in memory.

The Ceremony Begins

The loudspeakers kicked in with a Sousa march when the screens lit with a small group of Marines conducting a curious angular ritual. Whatever it was, it looked ancient and suggestively sacred enough that I was surprised we were seeing it. I don’t think this procession made it to network.

Ali Bomaye!

The freeze and fatigue started to clear with the appearance of each VIP on the screen. First were some crowd-pleasers. Magic Johnson. Stevie Wonder. Sandra Day O’Conner. I recognized the chant “Ali Bomyea” before I recognized the man. The Parkinson’s had settled on his face like stone, but charisma was clearly beaming through his single expression.

The Unloved

Next were some unloved. Clarence Thomas, Newt Gingrich, Dick Cheney (in a wheelchair?). I promised myself I wouldn’t boo Bush or anyone else, but I wasn’t expecting to see Joe Lieberman (the instant he appeared on screen, I issued a rally of ogreish boos I couldn’t hold in).

The Chant
We finally got to that moment when there were only two obvious unseen people—Bush and Obama. The announcer went silent long enough to know that W. was now in cue. Na na na na, na na na na, Hey Hey Hey, goodbye. The chant echoed in the distance at first, but it quickly overtook our section. It wasn’t exactly a boo, so I went with it. Bush appeared on the screen looking like he was in bad trouble. I admit feeling a bit sorry for him, but… hey hey hey.

The Oath

After Oath

Obama’s appearance, oath, and speech seemed to go by too quickly. After waiting seven hours, the crowd felt like it was needing some more Obama time. The screens and audio had at least a two second delay, so we couldn’t make out Justice Robert’s mistakes. No biggie, they’ll get it right next time.

The energy in my section after the Benediction was initially cheerful, but surprising in its soberness. It was almost like, wow, we got this far, now what? I was honestly expecting to see some tears, hugs, and celebration. Was it the seriousness of his speech that had us so solemn?

Our Feet

Realistically, you can’t rule out exhaustion. Most of the Silver Ticket holders hadn’t slept much the previous night, and by this point their toes were numb. I was so exhausted that I barely got out a few decent goodbyes to the family I had been standing next to. Two guys asked me to take their picture in front of the Capitol, and they barely thanked me with a strained “Obama” in return (which was more engaging than the stiff nod I gave back). Just after that, I saw a woman in her 50′s collapse while conscious—likely from the lack of feeling in her feet. I later heard that some people were becoming hypothermic.

Much of the crowd was now heading for the gates, but I began shuffling around for circulation. I was glad I waited because the screens switched back on with the Obama’s and the Biden’s joined with the Bush’s at a green military helicopter. I was disoriented enough to think they were already a good distance from the Capitol. The big screen showed the helicopter take off as the Mall’s speakers blasted some Disney-esque adventure music. Then blamo! The copter lifted right off the roof of the Capitol in front of us and flew overhead. The chant of the remaining crowd began again but now with a wave, na na na na, na na, na na, Hey Hey Hey, goodbye—like something between an important foul-out at an NBA game and the end of a very strange Fantasy Island episode.

Hot Chocolate
Jim McDermott had invited his ticket awardees to hot chocolate up at his House office. This would be a good way to give thanks for the ticket and avoid a long Metro line. After another security clearance, I rested on a bench to warm up. When I finally got to Jim’s lobby, I saw an awkward crowd of networking insiders and a few of us frozen fools who were simply looking for a warm drink. Jim appeared and told us we could continue past the reception area back into the larger room of his office. He had a charming but scornful smile when mentioning to someone his disappointment that some bigwigs asked for tickets but were no-shows. Just how many proletariat like me made it in? I was one lucky bastard.

Afterwards I met my aunt and uncle in another line—for a Thai restaurant. We watched the parade and I mostly zoned out, high and exhausted from the day.