A peon's-eye view of the Obama inauguration. I am not a VIP, and I did not have any tickets.
Early Tuesday morning, before dawn, I walked to the local Metro station, the second on the line. I had my SmarTrip card with me, with plenty of value on it, so I didn't have to wait in the long lines at the farecard machines.
Two inbound six-car trains passed, ten minutes apart, both utterly packed. I don't just mean standing-room only, I mean no room, period. The sign showing the next arrival was blank, meaning that the next train had not yet been dispatched from the end of the line. So I caught the next outbound train, which had a few empty seats. It inexplicably paused for several minutes short of the final station. Finally it pulled in, and people poured in, packing it as tightly as the other trains. Almost nobody got off -- they were all doubling back as I was, most of them from closer-in stations. It too only had six cars. I didn't see any eight-car trains all day.
As I had a window seat, I could see that no inbound train passed us on our way out.
The train proceeded very slowly toward downtown, often pausing between stations. The driver made repeated, inconsistent, announcements about which downtown stations were closed. Eventually he said the whole Red Line was shut down because a train struck a passenger. Fortunately, I had no intention of going anywhere near the Red Line. (I later saw in the news that a passenger did fall on the tracks, but wasn't actually struck, electrocuted, or otherwise harmed. So the resulting Red Line delay lasted “only” one hour.)
At each station, the doors would open, and people on the platform would make noises of dismay. A few would try to force their way on board. The driver would then spend several minutes cycling the doors open and shut, but apparently not getting the signal that the doors were securely shut, without which the train will refuse to move. He would then admonish people to please stand clear of the doors, and threaten that if he can't get the doors shut, he'd have to offload the train and go out of service. He also announced to the people on the platform, falsely, that another train was directly behind. In fact, the next-arrival signs made clear that trains were about ten minutes apart. I think drivers must all be instructed to use that lie whenever a train is overcrowded, as I've heard it so many times.
By the time the train reached Rosslyn, the last station on the line in Virginia, it was clearly averaging less than walking speed, so I forced my way off, and transferred from the inbound Orange Line to the outbound Blue Line. The next Blue Line station after Rosslyn is the Arlington Cemetery station, adjacent to Arlington Memorial Bridge, which leads directly to the Mall, and which I had read would be open for pedestrians only.
The outbound Blue Line train was not at all crowded, and I soon disembarked and crossed the bridge. There were plenty of pedestrians on it, but it's wide enough that it was not at all crowded, even though pedestrians were restricted to only one side. I looked down on the Potomac and saw that it was completely frozen over. At least there was absolutely no snow or ice on the ground. I was dressed very warmly, the sun was shining, and there was little wind, so I wasn't too terribly cold as long as I kept briskly walking.
Halfway across the bridge, I started hearing the Mall's sound system, installed for the event. It was playing Sousa marches.
The bridge took me directly to the Lincoln Memorial. I circled around it, and continued east on the Mall. I noticed that the Memorial's steps were crowded, but that that part of the Mall mostly wasn't. It became crowded as I passed the Washington Monument, a mile further east. There were police everywhere, most of them dressed in camouflage uniform, which struck me as an odd choice. Aren't they supposed to be seen?
People were continuing to head east, toward the Capitol building where the inauguration would take place. I had read that the public would be allowed as close as 4th Street. (The Capitol itself would be at Zeroth Street, if there were such a street, as that domed building is the base of the numbering system.) The crowd came to a halt short of 15th Street, which was blocked by movable metal barriers manned by police. I couldn't really see what was going on, but word filtered back that the police were letting people through during gaps in traffic. Sure enough, we were eventually allowed through, though not for perhaps a quarter hour. At least several hundred people started crossing, and a similar number started crossing the other way, which struck me as odd. Why were large numbers of people heading away from the Capitol?
When I was about halfway across, I head sirens approaching, and the police started shouting at us to clear a path. The crowd suddenly became enormously denser, and people pressed so forcefully against me, front and back, that I would certainly have been knocked down if the forces weren't roughly equal. I didn't see anyone knocked down, but I did see people lifted off their feet, and heard children crying. The police shouted even more vociferously. I was afraid they were going to mace us. I had no idea on which side of the street I was closer to, not that I could have moved in any case. I also had no idea why we weren't free to move in some direction. Why were people pressing both ways? Were two teams of policemen inadvertently forcing people in opposite directions? I had no idea, as I couldn't see anything more than an arm's length away. Eventually, sirens passed behind me, after which I was free to move again, and finished crossing 15th Street.
There was what looked like a similar delay at 14th Street. Thousands of people patiently waited to cross. It was perhaps a half hour before a policeman happened by close enough to inform us that nobody was allowed from cross 14th Street, and that no, you couldn't go around, unless you wanted to go many miles out of your way. I then realized why many people were crossing 15th Street westbound -- they were trying to find a way around. I soon satisfied myself that fences precluded any exit from that section of the Mall except directly west, back across 15th Street. And it was unclear just how far one would have to backtrack. This new maze of fences made my hard-won decades of knowledge of DC geography all but completely worthless.
Another approach would have been to try Metro again. But the only stations close to the Mall, on either side of 14th Street, were closed for the duration. And I didn't particularly want to spend half the day in a stopped packed train being repeatedly thanked for my patience, while they either remove a broken train from the line, remove a sick customer from some train on the line, or remove a suspicious package. Each of these processes usually takes several hours. Also, they were charging rush hour fares all day, and I had already spent quite enough for lousy service.
From one point on that part of the Mall I had a view of a JumboTron (a giant TV screen), and could also see the Capitol building, or at least the top half of its dome. And there was even a tree to lean on. Judging by the sun angle, it was getting close to noon, so I decided to stay put. I was only a little more than a mile away.
After I got home I learned that without prior announcement, the police had sealed off the entire Mall east of 14th Street at 9 am, and that nobody was allowed in from any direction after that, for fear of overcrowding. Satellite photos of the Mall, however, show that that portion of the Mall was more than half empty, to the great puzzlement of reporters who weren't aware of this police decision.
There are news reports that thousands of ticket holders who had spent years of their meager savings to travel thousands of miles, and had followed directions, and waited more than five hours in line were not allowed in and not able to see or hear anything, and were given no explanation and no apology. Many thousands had been directed into dead ends. Large sections of the seating and standing areas near the Capitol were thus completely empty. The people refused entry report that the police's responses to their polite questions varied from indifferent to hostile and threatening, and that they were told that anyone who left their place in line to try to find a bathroom somewhere would not be allowed to return to their place in line. See the comments in http://voices.washingtonpost.com/inauguration-watch/2009/01/inaugural_committe_apologizes.html
It occurred to me that if terrorists were to set off a nuke near the Capitol, I was far enough back that I would probably survive. What wind there was was out of the north, so I wouldn't inhale any fallout from the east, and the Washington Monument would fall away from me.
Nobody set off any nuke. Instead, various people were introduced, one at a time, interminably, including every living past president and vice president, and their wives, all of whom were present. I idly estimated how long it would take if they introduced everyone on the Mall, one at a time. I think they could have done it in time for the next inauguration, four years from now.
Bush and Cheney got lots of boos when introduced, at least from the people in the area where I was. I joined it, glad that for once I could whole-heartedly participate in the spirit of the occasion.
I was actually somewhat pleased that they were there, as it means they weren't going to arrange for a convenient terrorist incident moments before Obama was sworn in as a pretext to maintain and increase their powers. (I didn't think it was likely that they would even if they weren't present, but even one percent odds are pretty dismal if it's my own neck at risk.)
I saw on the JumboTron that Cheney and Ted Kennedy were in wheelchairs. Those were the only wheelchairs I saw all day -- the event was not at all handicapped-friendly.
Eventually, the controversial minister gave a not-very-controversial invocation, several pieces of music were played, including an original piece John Williams composed for the occasion, the Vice President was sworn in, more music, then the President was sworn in. I had the impression he flubbed his lines. On reading about it in the news after I got home, apparently it was the Chief Justice who flubbed the lines, and the President corrected them. Or something.
And yes, the President did use his middle name.
I was quite cold by this time despite the sun, as I was standing still for a long time, and as the wind had gradually increased.
After his speech, I headed for the parade route. I figured the south side of Pennsylvania Avenue would be the crowded side, since it's closest to the Mall, so I had previously decided to circle around the White House and approach Pennsylvania Avenue from the north. As it turns out, I was pretty much forced to do exactly that by the fences. There was no exit from the Mall to the north until 17th Street, which passes west of the White House. Nor could we then turn east until H street, which is to its north.
There was a large section north of Pennsylvania Avenue where the roads were almost pedestrian-only. (There were a few pedicabs, a few cyclists, and the occasional official car.) Numerous people were selling Obama souvenirs -- hats, buttons, t-shirts, bumper stickers, postcards, and more. Other things were for sale, from flags to food. Some were elaborate setups in tents, including a complete propane-powered kitchen in the middle of one street. Most were much more informal, using whatever was around. I was amused to see jerseys for sale lined up for display on a jersey barrier.
Many of the regular stores and restaurants were open, unlike office buildings. They appeared to be doing excellent business, despite -- or perhaps because of -- no cars being allowed in the neighborhood.
This neighborhood was far from the only place to buy Obama merchandise. I had been at the Tysons shopping mall the previous day, and saw that what last month had been he Christmas store was now the Obama store, full of Obama-themed goods. Plenty of people were wearing it on the way to the inauguration. I was not wearing anything with Obama's name or likeness on it, or with any other message, as I was there to observe, not to celebrate.
There were plenty of people, but it wasn't especially crowded, even though some streets were more than half full of vendors. I even saw one family having a sit-down picnic in the middle of one street.
There were also protesters and others with various messages, including vegetarians, Christians, pacifists, advocates for free health care, and communists. One Christian was apparently annoyed by what he saw as Obama-worship, as he was loudly saying, “Obama didn't die for your sins! Obama wasn't resurrected!”
I accepted any free literature handed to me, except for outright ads. I also picked up anything from the street that looked interesting. The streets were covered with trash, partly because the few trash barrels were full to overflowing.
The communist newspaper I was handed spent most of its pages denouncing prisons and war, which was odd since communist countries were and still are notorious for prisons and war.
I continued east, figuring that most people would head for the closest part of the parade route they could get to, and that the seeing should thus be better further east. Also, there was still plenty of time before the parade was scheduled to start, and I might as well spend it moving and moderately cold rather than standing still and very cold. Also, even when I'm not cold, I'm more comfortable walking than standing still.
I saw a line for the security checkpoint on 10th Street that extended several blocks and didn't seem to be moving at all. I continued east. 9th street and 8th streets didn't seem to have entrances. At 7th Street, next to the barrier blocking the street as it continued south towards Pennsylvania Avenue, there was no line, but there was a small dense crowd -- about a thousand people in an area no bigger than my apartment. I joined it. At the front was a sign directing ticket holders to one side of a barrier parallel to the street, and everyone else to the other side. The ticket-holder side was empty. There was no indication of any express line for people without bags. I had come empty-handed in hopes of such an express line.
It was at least a half hour before I was sure that the crowd was moving forward, not just becoming denser or milling about. I began to doubt again as I saw how many people were giving up in disgust and walking away. I was quite cold despite being in a dense crowd. A woman from Ohio expressed dismay that she wouldn't get to see her son in the parade. A hatless man with a radio gave us the good news that the parade had been delayed by an hour. Obama had not, however, delayed it for the likes of us, but because Senator Kennedy had had a seizure. It's already clear where the new President's priorities lie.
The guy with the radio also said that the parade route wasn't very crowded. Several people immediately retorted that that's because we were all out here waiting to get in.
After perhaps two hours, I reached the front of the line and was allowed through, and was momentarily surprised that I was let through with no security check. But only for a moment, as I saw that there was another line just ahead. At least this was a proper line, not just a jumble. It went considerably faster -- I've been in slower lines in grocery stores. There were just four metal detectors, and most people had to go through more than once, as they were set to such extreme sensitivity that zippers and tooth fillings would set them off. Also, people told they couldn't carry various things through usually stopped to argue with the authorities.
Since there was considerable acreage inside the security cordon, if I had wanted to smuggle something through I could have simply hidden it somewhere inside a few days earlier, so I can't see that the security accomplished anything.
After I got through, I walked up and down the Pennsylvania Avenue sidewalk looking for a good place. It wasn't all that crowded, but it was hard to get a good view. There were about five layers of people up against the waist-high movable metal barriers at the edge of the roadway, and there were additional people standing on every bit of elevated terrain or brickwork. But most of the very wide sidewalk was empty enough that it was easy to walk along, as were the lawns of the adjacent buildings that weren't right next to the sidewalk. I searched from close to 4th Street, where there was a tall fence blocking the sidewalk, to 9th Street, where the barrier turned to follow 9th Street, making it impossible to cross.
Near 9th Street I saw a portable diesel generator with some people standing on it, and room for at least one more, so I climbed on it, and had an excellent view. The exhaust made a convenient hand warmer. Unfortunately, before the parade began a policeman came by and ordered all of us down. Also unfortunately, my gloves now smell of diesel fumes.
I saw that there were bleachers on the steps of the National Archives, across the street, and they were only about half full. Of course it was impossible to cross the avenue. I would have had to have walked several miles along an unknown route, then gone through security again, assuming I could even find a security checkpoint, and that it was still open. And that those bleachers weren't reserved for ticket holders, as they almost certainly were. Bleachers on our side of the avenue were reserved for ticket holders -- and were full.
I headed back to the 4th Street barrier. There was speculation in the crowd about what the barrier was for. A rumor spread that it was the edge of the secure area, which made little sense since people on the other side of it were just as close to the parade route as we were. Another rumor was that that was a ticket-holder area.
In addition to the police patrolling the crowd, there was a policeman every ten feet or so on the far side of the barriers, all standing still, all facing away from the parade toward the crowd.
Finally the parade began. I could only catch glimpses, and my eyesight isn't good enough to recognize individuals at that distance, even when the sun isn't in my eyes, which it was. Obama was neither at the start or at the end of the parade, but was fairly near the beginning. He was in a car, but he apparently got out shortly after he passed us, and the crowd surged and ran towards him.
There were cars, people on foot, marching bands, a Metrobus that looked like it was from the 1950s (which didn't make much sense, as Metro isn't nearly that old), motorcycles, odd looking tall vehicles with people on top that everyone could see -- these were apparently all press vehicles -- and horses. (I didn't see any elephants, though. Who ever heard of a parade without elephants?)
I noticed that the national anthem was not played, unlike at Bush's first inaugural, eight years ago, the only other inaugural I attended. This is just as well, as I didn't care to remove my hat in such cold. Another difference is that umbrellas were not allowed. I recall that I had, and needed, an umbrella eight years ago. Umbrellas weren't needed this time, but the authorities didn't know that when they banned them.
One of the crowd-facing policeman in front of me yelled in a chilling command voice, “Close that window!” I turned around and saw that the building behind me did indeed have windows that could open. I wondered how security dealt with such buildings. Obviously they weren't required to be empty, as there were people in every window. Presumably, the SS isn't allowed to do warrantless searches before the parade. Maybe they figure nobody can shoot accurately through a closed window? I don't know. Anyhow, some buildings had outdoor balconies, and those were filled with people who didn't appear to be police.
I noticed police snipers on numerous rooftops.
The parade went on and on and on, with various military groups, city departments, marching bands from what seemed like every high school in the nation, etc. Gradually the crowd thinned out. It got colder as the sun sank behind the buildings opposite. I decided it was time to head home.
First, I chatted with the people on the other side of the 4th Street barrier. They confirmed that they too had to go through security, and no, they didn't have tickets. A rumor had gone around on their side that we hadn't gone through security, or that we had tickets! Nobody could figure out what the barrier was for.
I knew that Metro would be crowded, and would be charging rush hour fares. I decided to walk back to Arlington Cemetery, both to give the crowds time to thin out and to reduce my fare. And also to give the Mall one more look. I had heard it suggested that people hang out in the museums on the Mall to warm up and to give time for Metro crowds to thin out, but I figured it was close to their 5:30 pm closing time, or would be by the time I could get to the Mall, especially considering the only direct route to the Mall would cross Pennsylvania Avenue, which I couldn't do.
I headed west on Pennsylvania Avenue, then north on 9th Street, directly away from the Mall. I followed the barrier between the sidewalk and the roadway a quarter mile up the uncrossable empty 9th Street to E Street, whereupon the barrier-defined walkway crossed the street and headed back down to Pennsylvania Avenue on the other sidewalk without allowing any outlet to E Street or beyond -- a senseless half-mile detour. I continued west on Pennsylvania Avenue to 10th Street, where the barrier once again turned. I followed it, and this time there was a narrow gate at the top, where the security checkpoint was. The checkpoint was shut down, but the police were still present, presumably to keep anyone from entering the still secure zone. At least they allowed people to exit it.
I continued west. Most of the vendors were still there, though some were starting to pack up. The streets were littered with trash, including abandoned hand-sized flags. Since Pennsylvania Avenue heads west by northwest, I had to occasionally head further north, not just directly west, to keep from heading back into the secure zone. I passed to the north of the White House on H Street, which was as close as possible. I saw tall wooden stands in that direction, tall enough to block all view of the White House. They were still full of people.
I headed south on 18th Street. I passed what looked like another closed security checkpoint, which struck me as odd, as I thought I was beyond the parade route. I asked the police, and yes it was a security checkpoint, and yes security was still in effect. But I noticed that the barrier didn't block the far sidewalk. Maybe it only went down a little ways, to allow insecure people access to businesses on that street? But no, it went all the way back to Pennsylvania Avenue, which does, after all, go not just from the Capitol building to the White House, but extends way beyond both. There was still a waist-high movable barrier between the sidewalk and the roadway, and it was still manned by police, and the parade was still going on. I was surprised, as I had thought the parade was only from the Capitol to the White House. It seemed to be all high school marching bands. There was still an audience, but it averaged only about one person deep on each side. I was dismayed, as how was I to ever get across?
But during a gap in the parade, the police briefly opened the barriers and let people cross in both directions, which hundreds did. So I continued south on 18th Street, heading back to the Mall.
On 18th Street I was passed by a couple dozen Indians on horseback, wearing war bonnets. When I reached the Mall, I headed west on Constitution Avenue. I soon caught up to the Indians, who were loading their horses into trailers parked on that avenue. I chatted with them briefly. They were Crow from Montana, and they had been in the parade.
I continued west. The crowds thinned out and vanished as night fell. Arlington Memorial Bridge was still pedestrian-only. There were only about 100 pedestrians on the whole bridge as I crossed it. At the Arlington Cemetery Station, I soon caught a half-empty inbound Blue Line train. It sat in the station for several minutes before moving. I got off at the next station, Rosslyn, intending to transfer to an outbound Orange Line train.
One train came and went, six cars, absolutely packed. I saw on the signs that the next one was ten minutes away, and was also just six cars. I waited patiently. When it came, it was empty -- out of service -- and the next train was scheduled for 12 minutes later. (Actually, there were a few people on it, and they sure didn't look like police or Metro employees, but since the train didn't stop, I couldn't very well argue with the driver.) So I bowed to the inevitable, caught the next inbound train, and rode seven stations east to L'Enfant Plaza. That was very close to where I had watched the parade. The train kept pausing in or between stations, even though it wasn't at all crowded, and only a normal number of people got on or off. The driver said it was because there was a train immediately ahead of us. So it took me about as long to ride east as it took me to walk the same distance west.
At L'Enfant Plaza, I caught the next westbound Orange Line train. I was able to get a seat. As it continued west, it became standing room only, but only just barely, and there were only a few delays, so I got home at about the same time as I would have had I kept walking west from Arlington Cemetery. At least I wan only charged a (rush hour) fare from Arlington Cemetery, not from downtown, as the system only knows where you got on and off, not where you went in between.
When I got home, I realized I had eaten nothing since the previous evening, and had had nothing to drink since early that morning. (At least that kept me from needing to use a bathroom all day.) But the first thing I did wasn't eat or drink, it was crank the furnace all the way up, light all the stove burners, and take a very long, very hot shower.
Surprisingly, I didn't meet anyone I knew all day. I usually do. Probably most locals had sense enough to stay far away, and it was mostly people from out of town whom I encountered. At least I got to chat with lots of people from all over the US.
Page created and last updated January 21, 2009. Keith Lynch.