Chaos at the Purple Gate

If there is anything that I learned during this crazy election it was that people will wake up for Obama. While volunteering at an Obama event in Detroit one day, I spoke to people who had been lining up since 1am. And this was just to see him for five minutes in a park. People in Detroit don't get up for anything. But they'll get up for Obama.

This probably explains why I was awake dark and early at 3am on the morning of the 20th. Even though we had tickets, 240,000 people is still a lot and K-dub and I figured that we should get a cold and early start to be sure we got in line. If anything, we'd be there early and could scope out good seats. Ha to the ha.

At 4am when we finally drove up to the Metro stop at the end of the green line, or rather, the street with the Metro stop, we sat in our car in line for an hour. The Metro decided to make a pretty penny and charge each car $5 to park for the day, which meant that we had to sit in our cars as each person stopped at the one gate, paid their $5, got change, and slowly drove in. When we finally got in and parked, the Metro cars were already packed. By the time we reached the stations in the center of town, whole subways were passing by, too full to accept any more passengers. Like I said, people will get up for Obama.


People will also stand in the cold for Obama. When K-dub and I finally reached the street near our gate, she had to use the bathroom, so we stood in line for another hour at Starbucks. Seriously. One hour. For the bathrooms. I got her and our other friend who we thought we'd be meeting (we never found her in the mess of people) coffee and Kerry got out of the bathrooms at the same time that I got the coffee!

By the time we reached the line at the Purple Gate it was already 6am and people were everywhere. There were very few signs, no directions, and millions of people running around unsure of what to do or where to go. This was a little surprising. For two years, Obama for America has run an almost flawless campaign. Organizing and directing thousands of people into a small space is second nature to them at this point. They're in politics. It's what they do. But unfortunately, today they dropped the ball. It's understandable. They're exhausted. Their President was being sworn-in. They probably all had better seats. But wowie wow wow (as Junie B. Jones would say), this was a complete mess.

We stood in line on one corner, about 30 yards from the entrance to the gate from 6am until about 11.35. We moved at the rate of one footstep per hour. It was cold. People were hungry. And angry. And confused. We didn't think we would make it. There were no authority figures telling us what to do or where to go. Only mobs of people, desperately anxious to get inside. At about the time that we heard Rick Warren giving the opening prayer, K-dub and I had managed to crawl our way into the mass at the front. People were chanting "Let us in! Let us in!"

Everyone was pushing. The two police officers at the tiny hole in the gate were telling folks that they may or may not let us in. It felt a little like the way Crown Heights must have felt about five minutes before the first fist flew. K-dub and I held hands to be sure we wouldn't get lost. It didn't work. All of a sudden there was a huge swell and I was literally lifted off of my feet, in with the crowd, and through the gates. K-dub's hand slipped out of mine and I desperately shouted that I would wait for her.

Once inside, the security lines were surprisingly short. However, once through, there were thousands of people in front of the capitol and a giant tree blocking the only jumbo screen on our side of the lawn. The enormous (and very un-populist) stands blocked the view of the stage almost exactly like they had done at the We Are One concert. I turned around and saw K-dub running after me. She had made it in! For about ten minutes we rushed around trying to find the best spot, finally settling on a little piece of land that allowed us to see the screen through the branches of the tree.

(can you see the JumboTron?)

At least I could hear! I turned around and was amazed to see the sea of people crowding the mall. I wondered how Obama felt, walking onto that stage, seeing that sea of people and knowing that he had made it to where only 43 other men on Earth ever had. President of the United States. I imagine it felt a little like Neil Armstrong, taking that first step on the moon.

I didn't see Aretha's fabulous hat (made in Detroit, yaay!) until the CNN coverage later that evening. I didn't see Michelle's lemongrass suit or the girl's absolutely adorable custom-made J.Crew coats until I watched the parade while dressing for the ball. I didn't see a thing except our gorgeous Capitol Building in front of me, gleaming in the sunlight, red, white, and blue banners waving proudly in the wind, and the ocean of proud Americans behind me, finally celebrating a President that we could all be proud of. I didn't see much, but I heard the Oath (thanks Roberts), I felt the cannons vibrate as they exploded in turn, and I knew that, from the moment I first volunteered to the pride and privilege that I felt on that day, that I was a part of history.
(my view of the ceremonies)

A very cold, very tired, very vertically-challenged, part of history.

And besides, I knew I could watch it all on CNN later.

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