So nice you can read it twice over at Sandra's place

 Part I: In Which We Check Out The Pre-Inaugural Scene

 Sandra: Everything about this trip was special. Even being at the airport.  The Man and I took the red-eye, and it was a full flight, every single seat taken.  People were nodding and smiling at one another - we all knew we were headed to the same place, for the same reason.  Even when a woman started acting all bitchy and entitled about her right to store her ginormous bags in the overhead compartment, and blocking the aisle so that no passengers could get past her until her bags and her winter coats were stored * just so *, no one got irritated, but spoke to her calmly and in soothing tones until she finally settled into her seat and we were on our way.  

This is us on the plane – we thought making an O would seem, I dunno, patriotic or something, but it looks unsettlingly porntastic, doesn’t it?  

 Liz: Sunday morning at the airport waiting for Sandra and the Man to arrive was eerily quiet.  I knew that people were readying themselves to descend like locusts upon our nation’s capital, but quite frankly, I didn’t see many of them at the airport that morning. I parked myself next to a souvenir shop near where the secured area ended.  It was wall-to-wall Obama gear – hats, t-shirts, magnets, books, shot glasses. If you could print “Obama” or “Inauguration” or “44” on it, it was here.  I knew that if Sandra was coming out of her plane, sooner or later she would pass by here.  This was a lucky thing, since I had forgotten my cell phone at home and therefore had no way of contacting Sandra if I missed her at any point.  I was now thanking my lucky stars I had thought to make a little sign that read “Sandra No Longer Miller” just like the ones the limo drivers standing near me were sporting for their charges.

Sandra:  We arrived at the airport and I was just getting ready to call Liz when I spotted a smiling woman holding a sign that read Sandra No Longer Miller, reinforcing my firm belief that 1) that getting picked up at the airport is one of life’s great little luxuries.and 2) Liz really wasn’t just virtually great but actually great (a quality, I might add, that she has passed on to her little boy who is  sweetness personified with his enormous eyes and lobster print pajamas.)

After settling in the Man and I headed to D.C. to pick up our tickets at the office of her Speakerness, Nancy Pelosi (P-Lo, I call her).  Here is me in the Halls of Congress.  Corny as it may sound, it was really neat to walk past the Representative’s offices, one after the other, the plaques announcing the name and state, the flags flanking the doors, US on the left, the state flag (and sometimes others) on the right.  I felt the power of government, democracy and citizenship.  It felt good.

We walked around the Mall, and the number of people milling around having their picture taken with the famous monuments in the background was simply astonishing.  Everyone you looked, there were three things: 

1)      People:  Everywhere you looked there was a crowd, and every crowd was a great melting pot of colors, ages and accents. And I kept remembering how when I was a teenager in a high school of more than two thousand people, there was only one black face. I still remember his name- I bet everyone I went to school with remembers his name. I often wondered what it was like to stand out like that in the crowd.  I kept comparing that memory to what I was seeing on the Mall, and it made me smile – because everywhere I looked, I saw black families, sometimes three generations strong. 

And while  I knew that the hundreds of thousands of people milling around the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol Building and the Viet Nam Memorial were conscious of the history being made, I could see how much deeper that consciousness went, how much more significant it was to the black community.  I felt proud of and for all of us.  And though we have a long way to go in this country on many fronts, and the fight for true racial equality features important battles that are won but a war that is not yet over, I felt hopeful, and hope felt good.

2)      Vendors. The vendors were out in full force, and they were selling everything: t-shirts and buttons, of course.  Hats were a big seller given the chilly temperature (note: in the interest of space and politeness, chilly will be used as shorthand for “really unbelievably fucking freezing ass cold”) .  There were posters, magnets, coffee mugs, pennants, flags, and my personal favorite, the First Family Tote.  At the airport it became out and out madness – Obama themed golf balls, candy bars, bobble-headed dolls, even baby bibs.

 

 3)      Fur. PETA would have had a field day – one in ten women were dressed in fur, and not merely because of the cold. People were dressed up – I could count the number of people in sweat pants or track suits or ratty jeans on just one hand.  There was a powerful sense of occasion in the crowds, and people dressed in their finery.  It’s as if they were saying, we’re ready to face what comes, and we’re putting our best face forward.

Here is a picture of the set-up:

At one point, I was too cold to remain outside and so the Man and I looked for a place to have coffee, or something.  But there was nothing! There is no food or retail establishment for a five mile radius around the Mall. The Man spotted an awning and we ran towards it – turns out it was the Mandarin Oriental. We ducked in and boy oh boy, Fitzgerald was right – the rich are different than you and I. Hemingway was right too – they have more money.

We saw the rich (Alfred Taubman – a 2 decade member of the Forbes Richest list) and the famous (Jamie Foxx) and everyone in between.  I noticed a lovely blonde woman and commented “Look, she looks like a supermodel.” And a few minutes later, found out she was none other than the supermodel wife of John Mellencamp.  And her pictures do not do her justice.

Liz: Thankfully, Sunday morning for me after I dropped Sandra and the Man off at the Metro passed peacefully with our other houseguests, my friend Kathleen, her husband Michael and their four kids (all under age 8).  Babysitters arrived for the kids in the afternoon, and the adults toddled off to Alexandria for a party….

Part II: In Which Open Salonistas Gather in Virginia

 Sandra: At the end of a day that was now going on 24 hours, the Man and I met Liz at Flying Fish for a combination Open Salon/Inauguration/Liz’s 40^th birthday celebration.  I met many  friends of Liz, we drank much Newcastle Ale, and ate some sushi.  The OSers gathered for a group picture, shown below are: AJ Calhoun, Artsfish, Liz, lpsrocks, Pat, and myself, also posing separately with Tony Wang.  

For me, the high point was the Swan Balloon Head battle, which Liz won, having the home field advantage.  Plus, I let her.   

Liz: Many of you might remember Flying Fish as the place from which sushi comes when I do the “Iron Pundit” liveblogging series. When it became clear we needed a place to host OSers who were coming to the Inauguration, I knew that there was one place – the basement of the Flying Fish. 

As some of you also know, I had a birthday recently (including virtual birthday cake).  But never one to let an opportunity to party be wasted, I gathered not only the OSers, but a bunch of my other friends with the excuse that it was not only the Inauguration of the Big O, but my birthday.  Some may call it brave to allow all of your friends to mix like that, a “crossing of the streams” that many fear will be cataclysmic. 

It all turned out okay in the end….nothing exploded, and much fun was had by all.  The alcohol and the sushi flowed freely.  The conversations were animated and fun.  OSers began showing up slowly….Artfish and her wonderful family came first, and soon Pat and lpsrocks arrived.  A J Calhoun and Tony Wang made the scene too, and it was interesting to put faces with names.  Some people look JUST like their pictures – I could have picked them out of a crowd. Others were more stealthy.  It was fantastic to meet people in person and talk about how we feel about this new obsession of ours, the OS.  Other of my friends enjoyed meeting the OSers too.

 Towards the end of the night, my friend Karen began whipping balloons out of her pockets and making balloon animals. I don’t know where Karen gets this talent from, nor do I know what possessed her to shove the balloons into her pocket as she was leaving the house that afternoon. I also don’t understand how that little penis thingie on the bottom of the balloon bird-hat is really part of a bird, but having a balloon hat war with Sandra was fun.  I have come to the conclusion that everyone should have a friend who can produce balloon animals on a whim. And no matter what she says, I won fair and square!

Sandra: Liz was not only hosting me and the Man and planning the OS/birthday bash, but also hosting friends from out of town – a lovely couple with 4 children all under the age of 8.  Through it all she was the hostess with the mostest, even, one evening, serving us a lovely dinner of rack of lamb. We sat around the table drinking wine and talking politics until late in the evening, and I was struck with amazement at how people who have such differing views could find a way to talk with such civility, courtesy and respect.  The people around the table were a mix of religious and agnostic, pro-life and pro-choice, Democrats and Republicans. But there were no harsh words or tense moments – because there doesn’t have to be when people who disagree are still interested in understanding and connection.  This sense of humility and inclusiveness, of understanding that the willing to listen and learn are as great or greater signs of strength than autocratic didactism, is something our President has restored to the country, something that was sorely lacking under the Previous Occupant.

Liz: Kathleen has been one of my oldest friends, my best friend for about 30 years.  The dinner party was something I’d hoped I’d be able to do over the weekend, but really had no idea if we’d be able to with the crazy schedule we were all operating under.  Honestly, rack of lamb is one of those things that looks really impressive when you make it, but in reality it’s fantastically simple. It took maybe a half hour to throw together a few racks of lamb, some orzo and a salad.

The discussion we had afterwards was far-ranging and civil.  I have to say that one of my favorite things in this life is gathering people around a dinner table, cooking them food, pouring them wine and letting them talk.  Growing up some of the happiest times in my family were the holiday meals where long after the plates had been cleared, family members still sat around the table, gossiping, talking, opining, arguing.  To be able to put friends at a table together and have the conversation go on for hours, to the point where you forget the clock, forget how many bottles you’ve really had, and forget your differences is a kind of heaven.

I don’t know if our President has changed the tone of our country permanently.  It’s hard to know such things here, at the beginning of things.  But it certainly is true that people in recent weeks, in all walks of life, want to get along in a way they haven’t for the past eight years.

Part III: In Which We Attend The Inauguration with 1.8 Million of Our Closest Friends

Everything is Obama-themed, including Metro station advertising

 Sandra:  We were at the Metro station by 7:00a, and already there were 500 people in line.  It was quite  * chilly * as I have already mentioned, and as you can see for yourself by the way everyone is bundled up.

 Liz lives at the end of the orange line, which was very lucky for us – we got seats on the train. Within 2 stops, we were packed in like sardines, and the train was at capacity.  The ride to the Mall, normally 20 minutes, took a good hour and a half.  Despite the overcrowding and stopping and waiting, everyone was cheerful and chatty. The conductor apologized frequently for the delays and stops, and you could hear the smile and shrug in his voice when he said to us “I appreciate your patience, after all we are all in this together.”  Which, of course, we are.

Liz: The preparations on the morning of the Inauguration were not quite as intensive as planning an assault on the beach at Normandy, but it came close.  We were leaving at 7 a.m., and it was arguable, looking at the crowds growing on the mall on CNN, that we were already too late in leaving.  We knew three things after the reconnaissance from our advance teams – we would likely be gone a total of at least 8 hours, there would not be any opportunities to eat, and while there were port-a-potties, there weren’t likely to be enough, nor would you want to use them.  In addition, all the preparatory materials provided with our tickets indicated that we would be restricted as to what or how much we could carry.  Backpacks and thermoses, we were told, were verboten.

 We all put together food packs as we thought necessary – Mike and I had tickets to the “silver” section – the furthest away tickets you could get that included an area near the reflecting pool across from the Capitol.  Kathleen and Michael and their two eldest had tickets in the “blue” section, which was still a standing section but a whole lot closer.  The trick was to pack things that wouldn’t spill or open or get messy or squished, and to not drink too much lest the bladder begin to complain.  Fig newtons.  Soy milk cartons.  Perfect.

Sandra and I actually got separated on the platform and wound up heading into DC on different trains. Despite that, our train was nearly identical to Sandra’s. We were able to get seats because we were at the last station on the line, which of course made us the envy of all others.  We were squished up against people, the trains ran in a halting stop and go fashion that was only irritating at the beginning when you realized that there was no helping it. 

At one point, the train driver said, “Yes, we can!” to the laughter and amusement of the crowd.  We talked, got to know the people who were falling all over us as the train jerked about, and tried to figure out which station was going to be the best for getting us to the place we needed to be to enter the ticketed area.

  Sandra: Getting to our standing area (Blue Gate) turned out to be quite difficult. See that blue sign, below? It took us 2 ½ hours to travel the distance between the camera and that sign, and another 1 ½ hours to get in from there.  People were well-behaved, even when it got tight enough I could lift my feet off the ground and hang suspended by the pressure of the bodies around me.

The crowd was so big, it is difficult to describe.  Everywhere, a sea of people – even on the portopotties, in the trees, on the statuary.

Liz: Our gate was a whole lot closer to the Metro stop than the Blue section, and didn’t have magnetrometers. (We heard later that many people didn’t make it into the closer ticketed sections because the added security slowed down the entry).  People were patient, but confused in the Silver section.  There was an entry gate, and then a security checkpoint. Getting through the gate wasn’t hard.  Finding the security checkpoint ended up being difficult because a lot of people who didn’t have tickets made it through the gate, confusing the matter of who was actually headed for the silver section and who was just camping near it to get a good view.

Sandra: The cheering was loud and frequent as the dignitaries made their way in. Where we stood, we could see both dais as well as a Jumbotron. 

 Sandra: There was a short-lived spate of booing when this man appeared, which I didn’t care for, but when someone started singing “Na na na na, na na na na, hey heeeeey, Goodbye!” I did join in for a minute.

 Liz: We finally found our way into the Silver section, and were crammed in pretty tight.  The place we managed to stake out had a view of a jumbotron, but it was obstructed by some branches from a nearby tree.  If I squinted really hard and stood on my tiptoe and looked between two branches, I could see the podium.  It was small and faraway, like looking at the people on the street below from the top of a high building.

I’d made a pact with myself that I was not going to complain.  Not about the cold, not about the crowds, not about the obstructed view of the jumbotron.  Whenever those thoughts crept in, I said, “but I’m here.”  Pretty soon some of the folks I was crammed up against started using it too.  Yes it was cold.  Yes we’d been up forever.  No, we couldn’t see much.  But we were here.

Sandra: People started to really let loose their joy when Michelle Obama appeared on the Jumotron.  All around me, the women cooed over her outfit and the cuteness of her girls.  It felt like one huge happy family reunion. 

Sandra: Then Himself appeared, looking sober and – to me at least – ready.   

Liz: Back in the cheap seats, we were smiling and happy.  We made instant friends with everyone around us.  We would look up at the jumbotron with each entering dignitary and say, “there’s John Kerry!” “YAY Jim Webb!”  By the time the Obamas arrived onstage, we were completely pumped up and began to howl with delight.

Sandra:  It was amazing how such a huge crowd of nearly 2 million individuals could act in such concert , as though a single organism– though enthusiasm and joy were high, a hush that I would not have thought possible fell when Barack Obama took the oath and was sworn in to become President Obama. 

 Liz: I’d thought that oath was sounding a little short.  But with the four-second delay coming off the audio system, I wasn’t sure.  But the deed was done.  We have a President.

Sandra:  Did I mention it was chilly?

Part IV: In Which Sandra Is the Date of Liz At An Official Inaugural Ball

 Sandra: Liz’s friends were not only lovely, but well connected, bringing with them 2 pairs of tickets to one of the official Inaugural Balls – the Eastern ball.  There were lots of big balls in DC that night – Purple (not blue), Youth, Illinois, South, West – Liz knows them all better than me, so I’ll let her elucidate.  I’m still too excited by the fact that I GOT TO GO as Liz’s date, since her husband could not make it.  Though I usually pack a formal gown wherever I go, this time I did not, but luckily Liz had an extra (more hostessing with the mostesting).  Here we are in our finery.

 

 

 Liz: By far the harder ticket to score in DC for the Inauguration was not the ceremony, but one of the many Official Inaugural Balls.  There are actually a lot of balls that go on throughout the weekend.  Pretty much every state delegation tries to have some kind of shindig to celebrate the new President.  But there is a difference between a ball and an Official Inaugural Ball, and that is the presence of Himself.  The Obamas would dance at 10 different Official Balls that night, and Eastern States was one of them.

The dress (which had been worn to an event in New York I went to with my brother) had been sitting in the back of my closet for a while, really.  I’m not even sure why I hadn’t given it away before now.  It didn’t fit me anymore and wasn’t likely to in the near future.  (Although it did once, which is saying something at least) That said, I still held onto it, probably because like most women, when you have a really lovely dress, you can’t bear to give it up, and keep telling yourself that someday, someway you’ll find another occasion to wear it.  I have to admit I did feel a little like a cuter version of MacGyver, helping Sandra put together a ball outfit out of what I had in my closet.

Liz: The person I felt worst for footwise was Kathleen, who wasn’t sure she would want to navigate the Metro in her shoes, so she had substituted flip flops on her bare feet and stashed her shoes in her pockets until she got inside.  Like Sandra said, the wind was COLD.  And what made it worse was watching bundled up cops sip warm cups of coffee while we waited for the Ball Committee to decide that it was okay to let us in.

Sandra: I didn’t see anyone famous except Barney Frank. Lots of 20-somehting men and women in their finery.  Liz and I had a good time analyzing the dresses that swept past us, and we were hardly ever snarky in our comments, though we both agreed it was a real shame when we saw one ‘statement’ dress on three different women.  The crowd didn’t start getting big until James Taylor came on around 10p, which meant that you couldn’t really turn your head without seeing The Dress.  Liz thought the blonde looked best in it, while I voted for the dark haired bob.  Poor Dress #3 – neither of us can remember what she looked like (beyond the dress, that is).

Liz: Washington balls are a weird mixture of people – on the one hand are the politicians and their staffs, who because they are essentially government workers tend to be conservative and frugal in their dress.  This is, after all, akin to the office Christmas party for them, only a little more dressed up.  Sometimes the men will have very glamorous looking dates, but by and large this portion of the crowd is in basic black with modest necklines and traditional looking tuxes.  Because Washington is largely a meritocracy, and people come from all over, most people did not grow up with cotillion classes that taught them what was appropriate for a ball in terms of dress. And because the skills that help you succeed in Washington have nothing to do with a sense of fashion, and the uniform of a traditional suit for both women and men ends up operating like an adult version of the old Granimals clothing line (monkey goes with monkey….), many Hill folk have no idea what looks good on them and what goes with what. 

Then there are the donors.  Some of them ARE quite glamorous – and they KNOW the difference between a ball gown and a party dress.  But they come from all over – some are dot-com types who are young and casual, and the concept of dressing up in black tie happens so infrequently as to be alien to them.  Some are the “Dallas big hair” types – everything must be sequined and bigger than life and running just along the bleeding edge between glamorously in good taste and drag-queen worthy. 

Then there are the Wall Street types (not so much in evidence at this year’s function) – usually reliably designer clad and wearing expensive jewelry that has probably been selected by a stylist from Harry Winston. The end result is that people (let’s be honest here, we mean the women – men have the great luck of being able to put on a tux and know they are dressed appropriately) usually fall into a few categories dresswise:

1) Women who treated this as just another work function:  they were in suits or knee length cocktail dresses that were inappropriate to a ball. 

2) Women who obviously thought that “ball” is the same as “prom” usually because this is their first and only experience buying a formal gown other than their prom and they had the grave misfortune to not be guided by anyone in this process to inform them differently.

(NOT an actual ball attendee) 

3) Women who had the right idea only didn’t take it far enough – these women had gorgeous dresses, good figures, and didn’t accessorize properly because they simply didn’t know how to.

4) Women whose choices all the way around were truly stunning, and

5) Women whose choices could only be deemed “unfortunate.”

The statement dress in question was beautiful grey chiffon dress with an empire waistline and a darker grey beaded yoke and another at the hem.  I have no idea who did it, but it was a gorgeous dress that all three ladies pulled off nicely.  It used to be the case that women in Washington all went to the same place to buy their gowns for the ball, and so the humiliation of seeing your dress on two other women at the same party was averted by salesclerks who kept track of who was wearing what to where.  It also used to be that women had enough formal functions in their lifetime to go to that they would buy a stunning dress and put it in the closet for a season, so that when it came out for the event in question, it would be deemed unique.  Alas these are other customs from another time.  Hence the poor women enduring seeing their beautiful dress (it WAS really nice) being sported around by others.

Alas, we never get to see the Obamas dance – after James Taylor completes his set around midnight we have to leave – the Metro doesn’t run past 2:30 a.m., and we hear from various staffers that the new President has chosen to come to Eastern States LAST – meaning we won’t see him until well past 2:00 a.m. at the earliest.  Rather than try to figure out how to hoof it home without the Metro, we choose to leave early.

 Part V: In Which We Return To Our Home, Richer in Many Ways: New Experiences, New President, New Friends We Hope To Host Soon In San Francisco!