Final Musings

Well, it looks like our tale, hence our blog, has come to an end. We’ve purchased the requisite photo album, scrapbook, and memory box for pictures and mementos, although this blog has served a similar function, acting as an electronic scrapbook of our adventures.

Our shadowbox, pictured above, is hanging on the wall, displaying our inauguration invitation, our champagne glasses from the Illinois Ball, and the shattered souvenir Obama wristwatch from our crush in the crowds.

Quickly scribbled notes on our trip to the cabin on 1/18 indicate we picked up Trevor at his home at 6:06 AM, the men began singing Irish drinking songs 6:35 AM, Lil unsuccessfully tried to piggyback on a wireless network in New Jersey at 10:45 AM, and we got gas at the Walt Whitman Gas Station. The chaos of all that happened after we arrived is perhaps indicated in that there are only two other quickly scribbled reflections from our trip to add: on 1/19 (9:45 AM) Trevor declared that “Fritos are vegan,” and on the drive back home we stopped at the James Fennimore Cooper Rest Area (we obviously favor literary stops).

None of the above, or quite frankly, none of our entries below, can truly capture the anticipation, the excitement, the struggle, the joy, the pride, or the satisfaction of what we experienced those few days. Thank you for sharing some of that with us by reading our blog.

Thus, with a bittersweet goodbye,
Lillian, Dane, and Davenport The Pug
3/1/09

P.S: One final thank you from Lil to Dane, for always believing we could pull this all off.

Inauguration Day: Part VIII (Endings & Goodbyes)

And so our adventure ended as our Metro train sped us away from Washington, DC, after the inauguration and back to Fairfax, Virginia, and our waiting cabin, hot tub, and pug. The five of us had a wonderful time relaxing by the wood fire, drinking celebratory champagne, and talking over the events we had been so fortunate to have witnessed in that unprecedented crowd of nearly 2 million spectators; by all accounts, the single largest event ever to be held on the Washington Mall. Still, there was a sense that things were winding down, and the only big task ahead of us was saying goodbye and traveling back to our normal lives.

Even now, over a month after the inauguration has ended, thinking back and looking at the photos, videos, and souvenirs illicit a powerful set of emotions in me. Although I can’t speak for anyone other than myself and Lil, I feel that this is the same for all of us who made the trip to the capital and took part in an event that one day, I feel, will be judged by historians as one of the greatest watershed moments in American politics and society. The man we were here today to see sworn in as our 44th President said it so succinctly and elegantly in his November 2008 acceptance speech in Grant Park:

“If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.”

The bitter cold; the long, long wait in the pre-dawn darkness; the challenges of getting out of there after it ended – none of that mattered, and I’d do it all over again. All two million of us would, I suspect. Millions and millions of our fellow citizens and many millions more watched this moment on television sets and listened on radios on every continent and in every nation, and perhaps those of us who were physically present were acting as their counterparts, or perhaps segregates is a better word. The entire time I was there, I felt a palpable sense of history that helped to color every moment, every syllable of every speech, and each note of music played by the exceptional United States Marine Corps band that sat in their beautiful uniforms and provided a big part of the pomp to this circumstance.

Wednesday morning, our departure day, was as sunny and beautiful as you could hope for, and was spent talking, laughing, drinking coffee, and packing. It didn’t take much time to get our belongings secured in the car, and then, with a last bittersweet glance back at our wonderful cabin, we nosed our Saab for home. An hour after leaving Hot Tub Heaven, we parked at the Fairfax Station and said our final goodbyes to Cesia, who was going to spend a few more days in DC on the business part of her trip. Davenport, excited to be out on the road again for new adventures, was having a wonderful time exploring the parking lot and sidewalks in front of the Metro station. Hugs were exchanged, last photos were taken, and with a last wave, Trevor's sister Cesia disappeared down the tunnel leading to the trains.

It took about 9 hours to make the trip back to Greenfield. We got a bit lost around the outskirts of Wilmington, Delaware, which was noteworthy for passing a barbeque joint that had a hand lettered sign proclaiming “Muskrat - N - Coons” near Minquadale, Delaware. In spite of my best efforts, stopping here was vetoed by my traveling companions. Unlike our trip going to Virginia, there was no snow, and no snowstorm, and so we were able to see the outskirts of Baltimore, Maryland, and the usual highway sights. We saw a Carvel truck (no doubt full of Fudgy the Whale cakes), a very peculiar-looking defense contractor's corporate headquarters that looked like a US Navy warship, and I wrote the odd phrase "Hell Maggot" on a scrap of paper, although I have no idea what this means now. Trevor nicely drove the entire trip home, which I appreciated greatly. Probably the single negative happening was when a ghastly cold sore struck with a vengeance on Lil’s lower lip, already tender from exposure to the Washington cold. Happily, as prepared as a Boy Scout, Lil had the proper medication on hand, and it was kept in check as a nuisance instead of precipitating a trip to the ER.

At the risk of making this late entry into our blog sound like an Oscar acceptance speech, I want to thank first of all Cesia and Trevor for being part of it with us, fighting off the bitter cold, and making even the most challenging situations fun and exciting. Robin, Trevor’s wife, needs to be thanked for so graciously watching their young son back in Greenfield and lending us her husband in the first place. My boss John also deserves a standing ovation for helping to schedule the resources and personnel that allowed me to miss three days of work despite a heavy client list. Steve, a fellow English professor, covered Lil's intersession public speaking class while she was gone, and Jan, another colleague, lent us her camera to supplement our own. Finally, Lil was the catalyst that made all this possible, from taking a leap of faith in the middle of the primary race that Barack Obama would become our next president, to finding Hot Tub Heaven, securing tickets to the Illinois State Ball and the inauguration, and so much more. Without her, none of it would have been possible.

Of course, our deepest thanks goes to Davenport T. Pug for, as always, being the fantastic little traveling companion that she is.

Dane

Inauguration Day: Part VII (Victorious Return)

So, the tale of our journey is coming to a close. Davenport was thrilled to see us upon our return to the cabin, although she was a bit mystified why we stood outside in the cold to see this historic inauguration while she watched it all indoors, lying on a warm and cozy couch, in front of a large flat screen TV (Trevor and Cesia turned the TV on for Davenport before they left to pick us up at the subway station early that morning).

Dane opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and as we all sipped we watched some of the day’s footage on TV. Interestingly, the first station we watched showed footage of Bush entering the inauguration minus the audience boos; another station left the booing in the footage (later we read that the brass band played louder to try to drown out the boos). We saw that during the parade the new president and first lady walked part of the route on foot, and I briefly wished I had been there to see it in person, but I knew I didn't have the physical stamina to add a parade to our adventures (at this point, I could barely stand, let alone wait for a parade in the cold).

Obviously, the hot tub was next for all of us, not only for relaxation, but for its value as physical therapy. After a wonderful soak (our hair actually formed into ice crystals while we were in the tub) we went to bed, relieved and happy. I don’t think I moved once the entire night, as I woke up the next day in the same position in which I had fallen asleep.

Lillian

Inauguration Day: Part VI (ESCAPE FROM DC)

Okay, we were warned by the media:

"Street closures throughout Washington, D.C., will make traveling by car or taxi very difficult. Bridges from Virginia crossing the Potomac River into Washington, D.C., as well as major roadways from Maryland into Washington, D.C., may be closed to all but bus traffic.

About 3.5 square miles of downtown Washington will be closed to traffic starting midafternoon on Jan. 19, the day before the inauguration. Streets will remain closed to most traffic until morning rush hour on Jan. 21. Road closures on Capitol Hill will be instituted by the U.S. Capitol Police in cooperation with the Metropolitan Police Department. Access to the perimeter will be restricted to properly authorized and credentialed personnel ONLY. Street closures will go into effect starting at 5 a.m. on Tuesday, Jan. 20. Streets will reopen once the parade concludes after 5 pm.



D.C.’s subway system will be running 'rush-hour' service all day, but is expecting 'crush-level' crowds. Be prepared to wait for space on a train for long periods of time, during which you will have to stand in close proximity to several thousand people. Many Metro escalators will be closed due to crowding and individuals will need to climb Metro stairs or wait to utilize the small number of elevators at Metro stations.

Please think carefully about whether you can stand outside in cold weather in a large crowd for up to six hours, and whether you are ready for long delays getting home afterwards."

-----------------------------------


“Plissken….!”
“Call me Snake.”

We could have used the sneering Snake Plissken, anti-hero of the 1981 John Carpenter film, Escape from New York, as we tried to make a hasty retreat from the Capital area. Our escape routes were limited, and time and the cold were our own ticking clock. The cold seemed to intensify as the wind picked up, and became our constant companion and our enemy.

To interject a bit more bad Grade-B cinema into this story, Conan the Barbarian, had he been there to help us out, would have grunted “Crush your enemies…see them driven before you….hear the lamentations of their women.” Ice princesses, of course, by Crom.

Come to think of it, Snake would have chosen to use the sewer system, mutant troglodytes not withstanding, but alas, there was just us, elated, bedraggled, exhausted, and ready to head back to the cabin, the pug, and the hot tub. Recall that over 2,000,000 people were packed into the Mall. Well, 2,000,000 people were then trying to leave all at once, and it seemed DC had no coherent exit plan in place. We saw no cops and only one National Guard unit, and they had no idea what was going on themselves.

Going back a bit, Lil, Trevor, Cesia, and I decided that going into the Museum of Natural History after the inauguration to pick up a toy dinosaur for his son was a good idea. Museum management decided that plan was not to be, as the doors were locked. In fact, all the museums along the Mall were locked.

Thus, it was time to shuffle to the nearest subway stop and get back to Fairfax Station. We had no real options about which station to choose, as the police had used chain link fences to block off any alternative routes, so we followed the same street back to the station. As we approached the station, though, we saw that something was amiss. The station was closed and a massive crowd was growing by the minute. Rumors swirled in the air like the tendrils of smoke from some village Conan and Snake Plissken had just decimated, and the consensus of the crowd was the station was going to be closed until 5 PM. The reason, we were told, was that someone had been hit by a train and they had closed down the station for the investigation.

There was nothing to do but to keep shuffling on, despite our fatigue. Another twist to this mini-saga was that sanctuary waited only two blocks from the Capital building, had we been thinking straight. Cesia’s company’s DC headquarters would have been the perfect place to seek shelter. They were open for business, and only ten minutes away from the Mall. I plead the fifth in this case.

At this point, exhaustion was really settling in, and we just wanted to get home. We tried veering off to a nearby Metro station, but abandoned that idea after about 20 minutes when it became clear that station was closed as well. Lil thought perhaps we could find a local college campus and hang out in the student union, grab some coffee, and stay warm until Metro sorted out the service issues. We at one point passed a church, and one of us pondered out loud that maybe getting religious was a good idea, but I watched someone who also had the same idea try in vain to open the huge, chained double doors to the house of worship.

We passed a few eateries, but they too were all closed for business, as was a hotel we also passed. Literally all the buildings we passed were locked, and the only places to sit and rest were on the door stoops, the ground, or the occasional planter. DC seemed almost a ghost town full of millions of wandering refugees, in the streets, on the sidewalks, down alleys, and yes, even shuffling along the intestate that is the famous beltway. Even as cold and tired as I was, it was a cool sight to see all those folks walking along the temporarily-closed through fare, and looking back, I wish we had taken a foot-powered spin ourselves.

Finally, after four shuttered stations, we finally found one open and operating. We lined up, and the wait, while long, was not as bad as I expected. Once again our party, Trevor, Cesia, Lil, and I formed a human chain so we wouldn't lose one another. The dicey part was when we found ourselves halfway down the non-operating escalator into the station, and with such a crush of people all trying to get out of there, one panicking person could have started a tragic stampede.

But!, as on the Mall grounds, the crowd was happy and cooperative, and I saw nothing but smiles and grins, as if we were all in this together to the end. That is exactly how I felt, despite the challenges and uncertainties of getting there in the bitter cold.

Finally, the Metro folks announced that we would not need to use our metro tickets, and to just pass through the turnstyles in an orderly fashion to move the crowd along more quickly. Cheers rang out, and before long, a train arrived and we were on our way home, dinosaur-less but feeling very good. As difficult as it was, it was all part of the greater experience, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Hours after the inauguration ceremony ended, we rolled into the Fairfax Station. A slow slog to the car and we were on our way home. Food was in order and we stopped at an IHOP in Virginia. Lil finally got to use the bathroom, and on her way out of the restaurant she noticed a disheveled, rumpled, happy group at an adjacent table. Ah, more inauguration folks looking for sustenance, hot coffee, a warm place to sit, and a bathroom. Folks just like us. IHOP would be busy that night.

Davenport was thrilled to see us, and we were thrilled to have a warm, soft pug to squeeze.

Dane

Inauguration Day: Part V (4-Way Vinyl Poncho)

So, what do I say that hasn’t already been said about the inauguration. Yes, it was cold, numbingly cold, and I dearly wished I had hand warmers with me (silly me, I thought Security wouldn’t allow them). And yes, Aretha’s hat was fabulous, and I want one just like it.

The music, the oaths, Obama’s speech - it was all worth the wait. The air was electric with excitement and anticipation, and exploded when Justice Roberts congratulated Obama as “Mr President.” Individuals in the crowd jumped into the air, cheering, laughing, crying, celebrating what such a short time ago in our history had seemed impossible. Others hugged and danced. Everyone smiled. I get goosebumps just remembering it all.

My story, however, is about a tarp - a cheap, plastic, yellow tarp. If you will remember from my entry Inauguration Day: Part III, I had squeezed this tarp/raincoat in my coat pocket in the event of inclement weather. Since it wasn’t raining, we used it as a floor covering to sit on during our long wait before the ceremony. Now, this thin piece of plastic was never meant for this kind of abuse, and was already starting to show its wear by developing small rips, although it was still serviceable.



Right before the ceremony started, a woman asked if she could borrow the tarp, as she was feeling a bit unwell and wanted to sit on it. We said, “of course,” and handed her the tarp; at this point we were standing, waiting for the ceremony to begin. As the crowd shifted and swelled we lost sight of the woman, and I assumed we would never see that tarp again. I was wrong. Somehow she later found us, and made sure she returned it to us, with the appropriate thank you. Now, that tarp, as a tarp, was worthless, but her gesture was priceless. She so wanted to make sure she returned our property and thanked us.

That’s what that crowd was like that day, something I don’t think television could catch. Everyone felt so privileged and honored to be there, and I have never seen such joy and good will toward others as I did that day. Everyone was cold and uncomfortable, and it didn’t matter. I didn’t worry about pickpockets or stampedes, and I don’t think anyone else did either. Somehow we all sensed that this crowd, this moment, was unlike anything we had ever experienced, or would experience, and for those hours we were friends who would watch out for one another. Corny? Yes. But also true. Later I learned that there wasn’t a single arrest made that day. Two million people were on their very best behavior in extremely challenging physical conditions. And why not? We had waited hours - no, for some it was generations, for this moment.

We threw away the tarp; it had served its purpose admirably and had seen better days. What I will never throw away is the memory of a woman who didn’t want us to think she would steal from us. Instead, she gave us a gift - a memory I will always treasure.

Lillian

Inaugural Program: http://inaugural.senate.gov/media/releases/release-12172008-inauguralwebsite.cfm

Inauguration Day: Part IV (Choppers, Snipers, and CNN, Oh My [aka Soylent Green is PEOPLE!])

There we were, shivery but happy, and with a bit of breathing room before the crowd continued to flow into our little section of the Mall I will think of as Silver Ticket Land. The sun had barely risen, and the dusky, early-morning glow reflecting from the marble of the Capital building was unquestionably beautiful. To me, morning has always been a favorite time of day, one of quite reflection on what the day may bring, and as I stood next to Lil and the gang, I knew that, whatever the ceremony might hold in store for us, it was going to be a quite a show.

As Lil had indicated in Part III, I did a quick recon, and the restroom situation was quite ugly, and that is all I have to say about that.

If you can imagine, we were standing surrounded on both sides by the great museums of the Smithsonian Institution. On our right was the American Indian Museum. To our left was the towering National Gallery of Art. The Air and Space Museum and the Natural History Museum were also nearby. And on top of each of the roofs of these repositories of culture were teams of camouflaged military snipers.

It was actually kind of cool to see them up there, but at the same time, a sobering reminder that perhaps not everyone here today was in a celebratory mood. I could imagine the eyes of the snipers staring through their variable-magnification scopes at any one of us. And of course, common sense will tell you that for each sniper we could see, there were many that were hidden from view.

Helicopters.

Yes, there were birds in the air that day, despite nonsense spouted by the fine anchors of Fox News (you don’t really want to know, but if you do, look up the Fox claims that there must have been UFOs over Washington, as no aircraft were anywhere nearby).

Most were civilian helicopters, probably news choppers, but a few military models were hovering in the cold, clear air on one errand or another. The best chopper to see, it turns out, was the one taking George W. Bush away from the levers of power forever. This was Marine One, a VH-71 Kestrel. Everyone I saw was cheering and waving at the low flying bird as it traveled over the Mall, and no one knew at the time that we were screaming and shouting for the outgoing president. However, it still is nice to think back to the moment I waved at Bush as he left town for good. Was he squinting and giggling? I doubt it.

CNN

It stands for Cable News Network, not Communist News Network, and yes, they were there. I only point them out in particular as about 100 feet from us was a CNN camera on the tallest boom ever, to get, no doubt, some long shots of the many, many people packed into the Mall. Which brings me to…

Soylent Green

Fooled you, didn’t I? There were no bulldozers, and no Charleton Heston as a riot policeman unwittingly helping to make the masses of the angry future into nutritious and delicious staple foods. But the people! I have never before, and never again expect to see such a sea of humanity in one single space as I did that day. It “blew the mind.”

Our Spot

Looking back, it still amazes me that all of us were bonded in unity to see Obama and Biden become sworn in as leaders we could finally look up to as Americans. And that alone was worth a few shivers.

Dane

Inauguration Day: Part III (Sans Security)

Well, to continue the entry from Inauguration Day: Part II, THE STRANGE, MANY HEADED AND LEGGED THING (which I call The Walking Amoeba) finally arrived at the security checkpoint. Now, this was the point I was dreading. My purse fit the maximum allowed size for bags (8x6x4) but was filled with 12 Obama watches I had ordered weeks earlier. My plan was to take the watches to the inauguration ceremony, and then give them away as souvenirs to family and friends. My fear was that security would somehow determine the watches to be security risks, and confiscate all of them. Now, to fit them in that teeny, tiny purse (at least by my standards) required some sacrifice on my part. Basically, nothing was in the purse except for the essentials (phone, camera, credit card, cash, driver's license, health insurance card, inaugural ticket, subway pass, subway map, and cabin and car key (if you have ever seen my keychain, you know how little I carried with just two keys). Tissues and, of all things, a small plastic raincoat/tarp were in my coat pockets (no umbrellas allowed - security hazards).

I needn't have bothered. The silver ticket security check was minimal at best, and I saw my fellow attendees walk in with large bags, blankets, food, coolers, signs, placards - you name it. (I think Security was overwhelmed by the ever-swelling crowd and just let us through as quickly as possible.) In my anxiety at the checkpoint I left a glove behind, which I later deeply regretted because of the numbing cold. Luckily, Cesia had an extra pair of gloves with her, which I gratefully wore, although a size too large for me.

Once inside, we staked our place in front of a large television screen (at our spot we could see the stage and figures on the stage with the naked eye; the screen was for viewing faces) and then most of our party visited the porta-potty. I deliberately stayed behind, fearing the worst, and I was right, even though it was just early morning and the crowds had yet to fill the area. My last bathroom visit had been at the Illinois Ball at approximately 1AM, but I was a former elementary Catholic school student, which meant I could forego the bathroom for a day if necessary (especially if I avoided food or drink), which is exactly what I did. My next bathroom trip was several hours after the inauguration ended at an IHOP in Virginia on our way home. (Little did I know my Catholic school training would come in so handy.)

Inauguration Part IV to soon follow, with stories of helicopters, snipers, CNN, and of course, the ceremony.

Lillian


Map: http://inaugural.senate.gov/documents/doc-2009-map.pdf

Inauguration Day: Part II (The STRANGE, MANY HEADED AND LEGGED THING)

As you have found out by reading Part I (and this is a good time to go do that, if you haven’t already), we met our friends at the Fairfax Station, and caught the first Metro train into Washington, DC (which, remarkably, was full of passengers). We got off at the Federal Triangle Station, not far from the Silver Gate, where we would enter to watch the ceremony.

As dark and as bitterly cold as it was about 4 AM, there was already a party mood among the pedestrians making their way toward the Mall. No maps needed, as we just followed the crowd. Most of us were walking in the street, until the police shouted through megaphones to get out of the street.

Not a problem at all, and finally, after a few minutes of walking, we found….the GIGANTIC CROWD.

This crowd, one of the subsets of the REALLY, REALLY GIGANTIC CROWD, consisted of our fellow Silver Gate ticket holders. Off to our right, brilliantly illuminated by floods, was the capital building. As many times as I saw it on TV or in the newspaper, it was very impressive, and in spite of wanting to be jaded and cynical about such a familiar landmark, I was very impressed by the beauty of the architecture and the way it was displayed.

Finding a place in the line adjacent to the new Smithsonian American Indian Museum, myself and my party had to just wait. We were quickly engulfed by the GIGANTIC CROWD, which grew and grew as the morning progressed from full darkness to the rosy hues of the pre-sunrise. You have to understand that this was such a large crowd, moving was impossible aside from jigging up and down a bit to stay warm and stomping your feet.

I, like all of us, were elbow to elbow, chest to back, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. The party atmosphere I had mentioned earlier never left, and although all of us were not very comfortable, it was a lot of fun talking to fellow inauguration goers and finding out more about our temporary neighbors. I was talking to one African-American guy, and the song Kumbaya came up (the joke being we should sing campfire songs to pass the time), and I, a Caucasian, told him the word came from an African spiritual and means “come by here.”

“Really?” he asked with smile.

“Really” I replied, and he shook his head and said, “Only in America.”

Finally, with the light growing in the eastern sky and all of us more shivery and cold, THE GIGANTIC CROWD began to move. Our party, Trevor, Cesia, Lil, and I formed a human chain so we wouldn't lose one another. Slowly, ever so slowly, the crowd began to move as one toward the actual gate that would let us into the Mall. How far away that was, we had no idea, as visibility was nil. But, we were moving, and that is all that counted. Smiles broke out, and you could feel the energy rising as we shuffled along.

For about 50 feet.

Then we, the happy and yet now mystified GIGANTIC CROWD, stopped, having now morphed into THE STRANGE, MANY HEADED AND LEGGED THING. After a while, we began to move again. Remarkably, with so many heads, we were blind. The situation was not exactly safe; if someone had panicked, injuries or death may have easily resulted, but the group of us looked out for each other.

“Curb coming!” came one cry. “Tree root, careful!” came another voice from the mass of people shuffling along toward what we hoped really was the gate. This thing had many vocal cords.

I began making jokes to those around me, making up what I thought the cries and calls of this creature we had become would sound like – “MWAAAAAAA, MWAAAAA!” – and laughter rippled through the happy-if-still-chilly creature lumbering along.

Finally, after a time, we broke free from the STRANGE, MANY HEADED AND LEGGED THING and made it to the gate. A brisk frisking was followed by euphoria at actually making it into the Mall.

We had time to stretch and walk around a bit, but that wouldn’t last long, as this new crowd began to swell as more and more people got through the security check point and joined us on the grassy area. The crowd would eventually swell to two million.

We had been warned by the media of "crush-level crowds," and that's exactly what we got. While, thankfully, no one in the crowd was injured, one soveneir watch Lil had in her purse (one watch of twelve: see blog entry Inauguration Day: Part III) did not fare so well:



Dane