Inauguration Special: In Which We Invade The Obama Nation
After cutting numerous lines, trampling countless fences, and getting “on the nerves” of one testy middle-aged lady with multiple Obama pins (I think we were mock-bewailing Bush’s departure or something), my colleague John-David Brown and I have returned to our friend’s place of residence after an exhausting firsthand view of what actually goes down at a Presidential Inauguration. I capitalize (italics for punniness) the P and the I incorrectly because we are now inescapably into the Age of Obama, as you obviously are aware. And there was no moment more indicative of this new era than at the end of Aretha Franklin’s rendition of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” As I anxiously stood on my tippytoes to get a glimpse of the zaftig goddess on the Jumbotron, I was struck by the words she kept on repeating: “Let it rain. Let it rain. Let. It. Rain.”
What I was struck by was a mixture of confusion and, as I later determined, idiocy. As it turns out, Aretha was refraining “Let it ring,” which I suppose should’ve been painfully obvious to any decent patriot. Why I choose to highlight this moment: among all the hubbub, my mishearing mirrored the general ludicrous clusterfuckery of the day: We were pissed off with the some 240,000 ticket holders that Congress meted out (but luckily weren’t turned away). We were among the record numbers of cattle-to-the-slaughter metro riders. And yet it was all worth it to witness, in the frostbitten flesh, a historic moment so I can count myself as a primary source.
We made our way over to the Inauguration around 9:30, crossing over carless highways and swigging the last remaints of last night’s Cap’n Morgs in public. We were “silver” ticket holders, which meant that we would’ve been able to nuzzle up with the Reflecting Pool and see the black speck of Obama’s semblance, had we managed not to stay up until 6 in the morning. By the time we arrived (12:04, to be exact), fellow silvers had managed to pack all the way up to the Pool — so we were left to squint at massive TV screens.
The ceremony was typical at times, and Obama’s speech fell under that specter, unfortunately. Aretha sang. Yo-Yo Ma and Ithzhak Perlman played. Elizabeth Alexander poemed. Leaving the place before the parade proved difficult, as many other participants had the exact same idea. We ended up wandering to the opposite side of town we wanted, laboring under misconceptions about the DC grid system. Apparently, M St. SW does not turn into M St. NW. Who knew?
Right before I got back to my trusty MacBook to sit down and write this, I remarked that I was confused about what Aretha was saying at the end of her song. John-David corrected me, as he is one of those clever patriots who attends College Dems meetings. But I still want to believe that she said “Let it rain.” Obama is replacing an administration that might be handily compared to a drought: arid desert wars, an illiquid economy, and the complete lack of a presidential sex scandal. (Thanks for sowing your seeds in the barren sands, Clinton.) Maybe a young, hip Obama-ministration can wash away the stodgy second chapter of the Bush era… If not, let’s hope Michelle finds her own little intern manservant to make it with. How’s that for change?
UPDATE: Even more pictures!
Tags: barack obama, inauguration 2009, politics
