Over the course of five days, I covered 12 different states and meet a countless number of people; whether they were best friends, new friends, or just fellow travelers, we all united under the banner of Obama's inauguration and the wonder of an American promise.
The fact that I could cover so much ground in so little time is beyond fascinating, and surely indicative of not only my adventurous spirit, but also of this country as a whole. States have borders, and there are differences between citizens, but everywhere I went, people were mostly warm and welcoming. And, when they weren't, the fact that we have a new president was great consolation, and not because of politics, but because of hope.
Before I dig into some of the details of Inauguration Day wonderment and the general East Coast adventures, I will say: my week for Obama wasn't for politics. Something that I'm recognizing is that I, as an American voter, really cling to the idea that brighter days are coming, and that we can persevere. I remember hearing from a former aid to Ronald Reagan in a class a few years ago. That class did not focus on Reagan's policies or accomplishments, but his personality and his connection to the American people. For the first time in my life, I bought into the idea of Reagan being a "Great Communicator," and uniting people in places where it didn't seem that common ground could ever exist. Reagan is still not my favorite president, but his words about unity, about freedom, about purpose, were incredible. And the abilities he had, I think, are well extended by the new president, and just as required, if not more, in these times of great strife.
Making it to the Inauguration was a journey in and of itself: I was up at 2 a.m. on Sunday the 18th, getting ready to pick up Zoee at 3, so that we could catch our airport shuttle by 3:15. We were at the airport by 4:30, where we parted ways and went off on our own airline adventures. This, my friends, was not the best experience; for the first time in my travel life, airport personel, airline employees, and crew were so rude! I had two layovers, also a first, the second of which was extended because the layover time (already short) went extinct due to a plane delay. It was the first time I ever saw my plane leave, without me on it, from the gate. I was rebooked, and ended up in Rhode Island later than scheduled; but still, I made it! Seeing Grandma was wonderful, even though it was only for a short time.
I was up on MLK day at 6:00 a.m., ready to meet Zoee and her mom about 7. We navigated the snowy, icy cowpaths of Rhode Island roads from West Warwick to Providence to pick up our rental car. We named the Mazda 5, a cute compact, "Barry," after Barack's childhood nickname. Funny story -- the first leg of our journey was on Hope Street in Providence. Seriously, just by coincidence.
Zoee had an appointment to be interviewed on R.I.'s Latin Public Radio (in Spanish!) at 9am; we were there on time, and she ended up being on the show for the full hour! I was able to include some of my new Spanish experience, which amounted to, "Hola, me amo Mary Jean." Hahaha.
We then embarked on our epic drive to DC, which included the wonderful gridlock traffic of 1-95 through Connecticut! 3 hours to get through that sliver of a state! We stopped for gas just shy of the George Washington bridge into New York City, which was also packed. Instead, I hopped behind the wheel while Zoee played navigator with her iPhone. This new plan put me driving through the streets of Manhattan in the snow! I never thought I would ever drive in that city, nor do I enjoy driving in any kind of percipitation -- BUT, it was wonderful! I made it, without any problems, and we were able to see a lot some downtown and a lot of midtown before heading into the Lincoln tunnel to enter New Jersey.
It's not called the armpit of the nation for nothing.
Geographically, that makes so much sense -- but even its turnpike was smelly! And, it was snowing like mad as I trekked through about 2/3 of the state on the turnpike. The good news is, that was the last time we saw any snow the entire trip. Our next days were filled with sunshine, both figuratively and literally!
Because of the weather, that took slightly longer than anticipated; by the time Zoee was behind the wheel after our second gas break of the trip, it was already 6pm, the time we had expected to be entering DC.
Still, we pushed forward, and soon enough, we went through Delaware, along Pennsylvania, into Maryland...and finally, there she was: the Capitol lay glowing at the end of the street we were traveling down to get to C-SPAN. It was also slightly gridlocked, but we made it to the parking garage within 15 minutes of being in the District, and on our way up stairs to meet, wonder of all wonders, Mike!
He, of course, is my great friend from my time at C-SPAN, and my DNC buddy. To see him is always a treat, and it totally was special. We were supposed to go out to eat, but as he had to work early in the morning, he opted to stay in while we figured out how to leave C-SPAN, still be able to get back in, but enjoy some DC nightlife.
Then there was Jake. I didn't know him from my internship, but his desire to go out met ours and we ended up at an Irish pub around the corner from the Hall of the States (C-SPAN's building). KJ, another old C-SPAN friend, joined us on his way back to the office. A few hours and more than a few drinks later, it was time to pass out on the mattress-laden cots in "Hotel C-SPAN." I woke up about four hours later, at 6a.m., fully clothed and wondering where to get breakfast and what the morning would look like.
We got dressed in our "room," which was half of a big conference room lined with cots; it also had a 42" tv screen that we could use to watch...well, whatever! We made it downstairs for breakfast and we were out of the office by 8a.m., entering a world right next to the capitol and in the middle of a sea of people.
The rest of this story involves a lot of cold, happy people; crowds of mass confusion but ultimate friendliness; and the surrender to the idea that "well, we are some of the four million people who can't make it on to the mall - what next?"
We ended up in the Spy Cafe, attached to, you guessed it, the Spy Museum. We shared a booth in the crowded restaurant with two older black women and one of their daughters. We talked about our journeys to this table, the remarkable crowds, and the momentous occasion before us. The restaurant grew steadily more crowded; by the time "-Elect" was removed from Obama's title, it was standing room only. People cried tears of joy, listened intently to the words of his important address, and hugged and cheered as "Hail to the Chief" played.
The poem was beautiful, expressing the moments we all experience in life and the umbrella question, "what if the mightiest word was love?"
In my first-hand experience, that was the mightiest word on Inauguration Day in DC. Six million people apparently showed up, and in an already crowded city, one can usually expect problems. While we heard of some medical emergencies, we never heard harsh words, ill-hearted comments, or about any arrests, protests, or riots. We encountered smiles from passing strangers, peace signs from people incidentally in photographs, general murmers of "Obama!" and warm hugs from even strangers.
As we left the Spy Cafe and headed back to North Capitol street, it seemed that six million people were also making their own journeys across town. Six million people aren't quiet, but there was something in that noise that expressed a silence; it wasn't rowdy or rambunctious, there was a moment when it seemed nobody was using their "outside voices." With the streets emptied of cars and the sounds of muted voices and shuffling footsteps, the feeling was of a collective sigh of relief; that something great has happened, that progress has been made, that we can move forward, together, and find brighter days.
And nobody was pointing any fingers about why the world the way it is; only pointing ahead to where the world should go, and now can go.
It was absolutely beautiful.
And, as usual, the city gripped my senses and made me stay an extra day. It excites me so much I couldn't just pick up and leave. We were interviewed by Adam and 9NEWS (shocker!) outside of C-SPAN (small world: the NBC bureau was in the C-SPAN building). At dinner in DuPont Circle, at the spectacular Kramer's Books, we were interviewed by new friend Jorge Rivera, a man of many adventures and talents, for his homemade documentary about the Inauguration.
We left Hotel C-SPAN that evening and enjoyed KJ's house for the night, leaving early the next morning to go South.
Traveling through Virginia was an experience. It's a beautiful state of rolling hills and, on that day, snowy pastures. The sun was bright and no clouds appeared in the sky. We made it to Roanoke on one and half tanks of gas by 1pm, enjoyed lunch with the wonderful Elizabeth at Blues BBQ downtown, and then embarked on a tour of her campus, Hollins Uni, until 3pm.
This was the first I saw of Elizabeth since our time in Ireland. We've talked so much since then that it was like we never left, but seeing her reminded me how far we are from Study Abroad, but how close our friendship really is. Parting was such sweet sorrow; we were able to bask in our memories, laugh about a few inside jokes, exchange a few telepathic moments, and then, we had to leave.
But every minute was worthwhile.
As we reached James Madison University (a place of great interest and excitement for me, in all of my geekiness), we stopped for gas and did encounter a Virginian who was not so nice. His large truck, with an exhaust pipe with the circumference of a tire (and I'm only slightly exaggerating) sticking out of the truck's bed, were simply gross. But, we didn't do anything about that; in fact, we didn't cut him off, although the way he flipped us the bird as we drove past in the lane next to his to get on the highway, you might think we offended him. How? I'm still not sure, except that maybe he heard us cringe at the gust of smoke that burst out of his exhaust pipe as he cut us off. Who knows? Regardless, we're living in a new day and that kind of behavior just doesn't upset me like it used to.
We made it to our final pitstop, Hershey, PA by 8pm. Zoee grew up in this small town, not just named after the famous chocolate bar, but still owned by the famous chocolatier, Milton Hershey. It's an amazing place I never thought I would be so struck by! We stayed with friends of Zoee's family; their house felt like a five-star hotel, and not just because we had stayed in C-SPAN or on KJ's floor.
They cooked us an amazing dinner and an equally amazing breakfast; two hot meals that felt rare to us on this adventure. We decided to stop by the Hershey Chocolate World because we were in the neighborhood; a stop that took at least three hours. We took the free tour three times, enjoyed all-too-thoroughly the big gift shop, and then hopped on the trolley tour with one of Zoee's former middle school teachers as our guide. We toured the four corners of Hershey and learned about the man, myth, and legend: Milt. It was slightly ridiculous, but incredibly enjoyable!
We drove through Zoee's old neighborhood and then finally embarked on our last leg back to Rhode Island. We didn't encounter much traffic, not even in New Jersey or Connecticut; we did get slightly lost trying to navigate New York without going through Manhattan, an adventure that does not need great retelling. I will say, my favorite quote from this moment was from Zoee, "Vice Lombardi rest stop? That's blatantly the mafia!"
Oh man.
Well, we got back into Lil' Rhody at 8pm, a full 96ish hours after we left.
Gram made us a warm macaroni supper and made us eat more than we could hold.
I had to be up and out by 6:15 the next morning; Zoee was back at her parents, I left my grandma all too soon. That was sad. And, while I will say the TSA team at TF Green Airport is among the most vigilant I have seen, and certainly on top of our homeland's security, the hour I spent going through that system was slightly ridiculous.
Nevertheless, I made my flights...every last one of them...and was back in Denver by the early evening on Friday.
What a journey.
I'm spent: I can't imagine ever finding another experience quite like this. Missing a week of class: totally worth it.
Obviously, the details of the experience flow freely to my fingertips; but the real meaning of it all is still slightly out of my grasp.
All I know is that this could only be possible in this place, at this time.
And maybe that's all that really needs to be said, to be understood.
And at least, for that, I'll have something to tell my kids, my grandkids.
Six million people. Six million stories. I think mine's pretty remarkable.
At least for me.
~MJ
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