NObama

Jan 20th: The 5:45 alarm didn’t have its usual pang of annoyance, because today was Inauguration day and you could tell the city was already alive. We made it relatively quickly on the metro regardless of news reports of two hour waits, although it filled up very quickly short after. I could have sworn we were in Tokyo as we stood smashed into a subway car, but the air was filled with anticipation and excitement. The car seemed to bond together as we yelled “hello no!” to the poor people trying to thrust themselves into the already brimming metro. Obama buttons, hats, sweatshirts, and scarves were everywhere and we finally exited the metro and walked the rest of the way. It was truly amazing to see the sheer mass of people here for this one event and also inspiring to see the thousands of African Americans ready to see Obama sworn in as 44th president. We were all here together, as the American population, and I have never felt so connected to my country, as I did then. That patriotism soon faded as we fell upon the “line” designated for those of us purple ticket holders. It was more of a mass free-for-all, then anything resembling a line. No police men directing us, no signs, no organization whatsoever. After about an hour we funneled into an intersection where things were getting even more crowded. We were literally smashed together leaving us barely enough room to breath. People’s elbows were in each others backs, hair in mouths, and arms unable to move except for my hands clutching to my dad hoping to avoid separation. Things got even more heated when an ambulance attempted at getting through the madness. A man was screaming for us to back up, yet there was absolutely no where to back up to. I felt pretty bad for whoever was suffering from some type of medical emergency, because it took about 10 minutes for the ambulance to make it through the intersection. Shortly after, I heard a whistle and saw the crowd parting down the middle. Looking behind me, I saw Samuel L. Jackson escorted by a police man. We were all a little jealous seeing that life would be a lot easier being a celebrity. After a few snakes on a plane comments, the crowd went back to it’s normal claustrophobic chaos. Following about an hour and a half of confinement, there was a breakthrough. People started running, and we bounded after them. Hope filled the air as we thought the gates had opened again and we would make it onto the mall. The spark of hope soon fizzled out as we reached yet another massive horde of people, all of which were thoroughly confused as to what was going on. Time ticked by and we kept nervously checking our watches hoping to be let in on time. Patience was running low and the crowd was getting restless. Everyone would chime in chants such as “Let us in, let us in” or “PURPLE-PURPLE” as they thrust their tickets in the air. We all knew we weren’t being proactive, but it made us feel a little better about the situation. Yelling can do that. I looked back and an elderly African American woman stood behind me bracing her walker and clutching a small radio. A man yelled that Biden had now taken his oath and that Cheney was out. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. It quieted down, and we all stood either on phones, hand held radios, or conversing to those next to us. A few minutes later, thundering sounds went off and everyone panicked. We all feared the worse and ducked, swore, and eye’s widened in horror. Was it gunshots? A bomb? A second later, we realized it was only the cannons marking Obama as 44th President of the United States. The mass silenced. The woman in her walker looked down, deeply saddened that the moment had passed without the chance to see it, but also a sense of joy that it had happened. The crowd dispersed and disappointment flooded the streets. We wandered to find a place to attempt at hearing the speech. In a few minutes, all was quiet. People from all walks of life clustered around phones, peered into windows to watch TV screens, and attempted to make out the speech through the gates separating us from the festivities. It was 18 minutes of peaceful, tranquil, silence. Okay, so I didn’t get to see it happen, but honestly, it was a feeling I can’t even explain in words. I felt like a chapter had ended and a brand new one had just begun. Not only on my own new life adventure, but in our nation as a whole. It is a new day, and a better one at that.