I'll be blogging about my experience throughout inauguration week. Stay tuned.
My inauguration week started Sunday at the airport bar at in Fort Lauderdale International Airport - yes, international, they have flights to Jamaica - killing time and watching a woman a few years younger than me throw back tequila shots with the kind of speed that would make Usain Bolt jealous. It's Sunday, January 18th and I'm about to fly home to DC for a day I've waited a very long time for, the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama.
I turn to my libationionally-gifted neighbor and say "nervous flier, huh?"
"Not particularly," she answers.
"Like tequila?" I query.
"It tastes awful."
I won't be defeated, and reply "burgeoning alcoholic?"
Exasperated, she turns to me to says "this week is going to be a shit show with all you Obama people everywhere in DC, I hate that I have to be there for class and I would give anything to be anywhere else."
An auspicious start to my inauguration week.
Baggage claim at Reagan National Airport in Virginia was surprisingly calm, like being in the eye of a hurricane, with a glance to the taxi stand revealing the chaos and destruction ahead.
The "We Are One" with everyone from Bono to Beyonce, happened while I was in the air, but I got home in time to watch the re-broadcast on HBO.
At the end of the concert, Pete Seeger and Bruce Springsteen sang "This Land Is Your Land." I grew up in Upstate NY, a short drive from where Pete Seeger lives. He's the man who looked at an impossibly polluted Hudson River and said, yes we can...clean it up, more than 40 years ago, and started the Clearwater movement. He heard Bob Dylan go electric and took an ax to the sound system - okay, nobody's perfect. Still, hearing Pete singing this progressive ode to America - "In the squares of the city, in the shadow of the steeple, near the relief office, I see my people" - moved me to song and tears.
And I wasn't the only one loving my country with the kind of passion usually reserved for bad reality television. A friend assures me that at the exclusive hotel The Hay Adams, where Obama stayed last week, the entire bar sang along. It took a diverse group of the fabulously wealthy - every rich color of the rich rainbow - and 400,000 people in front of the Lincoln Memorial joining in song to get me in the proper state of mind to celebrate this moment in history, the inauguration of Barack Obama and the end of the reign of error, 8 years of Bush/Cheney.
My next stop was the Florida Obama Campaign staff party. I worked on the Obama campaign in Orlando, Florida for a month and stepping into that party was like being back on election night. The collective exuberance was still there. As progressives, we want to change out country for the better. But as campaigners, we want to win and there is no feeling like winning. We won in Florida, so Katherine Harris, consider it recounted.
The last stop of the night was a friend's Hawaiian-themed inauguration house party. There is one iron-clad rule of house parties: when the booze runs out the party is over. I showed up, posse in tow, at 1am and you could hear the party down the street. We soon ended up on the packed dance floor, with TI pumping and the whole room dancing and shouting along. The most amazing part, it was 1 in the morning and the alcohol had run out an hour ago. But everyone in the room was dancing, laughing and calling their friends to tell them to come over. A complete stranger turned to me and said "this is awesome," and I don't know if he was talking about the party or the inauguration, but I couldn't agree more.
What keeps a party going when the tap runs dry: hope. Now I'm ready to celebrate this inauguration.
There's more...