Inauguration Report

WASHINGTON – On Tuesday, Jan. 20, Barack Obama took the oath as the 44th President of the United States. I took the opportunity to join the millions of people who traveled to Washington, D.C. that week for the event.

Like some sort of journalistic Cinderella, my story began with a ball. I had not planned on going to Washington, D.C. for President Obama’s inauguration, but I received an invitation I could not turn down. The Root, an online magazine that I have previously contributed to, invited me to an exclusive inaugural ball held at the Smithsonian Institute, on the National Mall. Entertainment included Biz Markie and several journalists and celebrities would make an appearance.

I could not turn it down.

I headed out on a Sunday morning from the home of Terron Austin, a 2008 alum of the University of Cincinnati journalism program.

I provided invitations to the swanky inaugural ball that night and he provided lodging with a friend who lives in D.C. Austin, equipped with a GPS in his phone and the experience of several previous trips to Washington, also acted as our navigator.

We prayed, turned up the music and hit the road.

I sped down the highway in my Chevy Cavalier, singing along with the latest songs by Mary Mary and Raphael Saadiq and traded stories with Austin, who had just returned from the Stellar Awards (the Grammys of Gospel music) in Nashville.

When we finally made it to the dorm room of Austin’s friend, a Howard University student, the inaugural ball was already well underway. After receiving a little style advice from my fashion-conscious companion and quickly changing into our tuxedos, we were off to the Smithsonian Institute’s National Museum of American History.

Guests were still making their way along a red carpet to join the party upstairs as we arrived.  Actor and comedian, Chris Tucker, was taking pictures with author Michael Eric Dyson on one side of the room while my name was being checked off a list on the other.

The list of attending celebrities made me think about how I had stumbled into the big leagues like this. Fellow party-goers included Spike Lee, David Gregory (who recently replaced Tim Russert on NBC’s Meet the Press) and Obama’s pick for Attorney General, Eric Holder.

Even Oprah Winfrey showed up.

Henry Louis Gates Jr. spoke before the crowd in order to set the tone for the evening and articulate the reason for the celebration.

“Ladies and gentleman, we have lived to see the impossible with Barack Obama,” Gates said.

The intensity of the night lasted well into the early morning hours.

Despite traffic and limited parking, the festive atmosphere was apparent all over the city. All kinds of Obama gear – including shirts, hats, buttons, wristbands and handbags – were being sold on street corners.

Despite the cold weather, street venders were playing Obama-themed reggae music and selling funnel cakes and nachos as if all of Washington, D.C. was some sort of carnival.

When inauguration day finally came around, the crowds were still energized by the historic nature of the events that were about to unfold. Strangers of all colors, creeds and backgrounds greeted each other with broad smiles, saying “Happy Inauguration Day” to passersby.

Despite the frigid winter temperatures, I didn’t hear too many people complaining about the cold. The people gathering at the National Mall were too busy experiencing the ceremony to grumble.

Austin and I split up for the inauguration activities. I left early to ride Washington’s subway system from Howard to the National Mall so I could attend the inauguration ceremony itself. Austin traveled on foot to the National Mall later to view the parade.

Several Metro riders took note of the all-day Metro cards that had Obama’s face on them.

He was inescapable.

Families packed into the train. Children held American flags in their hands. The passengers were quiet, but frequently exchanged knowing glances while they checked their maps and listened for the conductor to announce their stop. Today was the day.
A swarm of police greeted us as we walked off the Metro. I had never seen so many badges and National Guard officers in my life. They were walking on foot, patrolling in cars and motorcycles, riding on horseback and gliding around on Segways.

I would later learn that more than 8,000 police officers, half of whom had been brought in from other districts, were maintaining security for the crowds at the inauguration.
When I saw the crowds on Tuesday morning, I understood why.

More than one million people showed up on the National Mall that day. From where I was I could not see Obama correct Chief Justice John Roberts as he took the oath nor did I see him deliver his speech about choosing hope over fear and making government “work.”

I could only see what was going on far ahead of me on one of the massive screens. But I did not need them to  see the people assembled there with me, and they are what I will remember most.

Rose Kagia, a 27-year-old nurse from Nairobi, Kenya, traveled to the U.S. for the ceremony. She and a friend were carrying two flags that were sewn together end to end that stretched more than six feet. One of the banners was the flag of Kenya, representing the country of Obama’s father. The other was the American flag.

Kagia is not a citizen of the U.S., but the moment was special for her, too.

“It’s an 18-hour flight, but it’s so worth it,” Kagia said.

Just after Obama took the oath, a woman to my left with a thick Caribbean accent was exploding with excitement.

“I’m so excited I could scream,” she said. “He’s the son of an immigrant!”

Washington Post photographer Courtney Potter smiled wryly as she clicked away on her camera. She seemed to know that the faces she was capturing for print might be remembered long after the next edition of the Post.

She saw me scribbling on a note pad and asked, “Are you a Washington Post reporter?” I was flattered by her mistake. “No, I’m a journalist from Cincinnati,” I said.

She nodded pleasantly before getting back to work.

I spent hours trying to find my way through the shifting maze of barricades and roadblocks after the ceremony. I would not see the parade, but the ceremony was more than enough for one day.

Thousands of us, I later learned, contended with shifting routes and schedules to get back to where we started.

The Metro finally delivered me back to Howard University in time for me to catch most of the Neighborhood Ball broadcast on ABC. I rested for a few hours and listened to Austin’s stories about the parade and how people tried to jump the barricades and tested the patience of the officers in order to get a better look.

What we saw on television – the president bobbing his head to Jay-Z and dancing to Beyoncé – confirmed what we already saw at the inaugural ball we attended.
This day was more than a shift in political power. It represented a huge cultural shift that empowered a slew of art forms that were once relegated to the margins.

Neither of us actually laid eyes on Obama that day, but seeing him wasn’t the point. We had seen him several times before during the campaign. But we did what we set out to do.
We participated in that “first rough draft of history” journalists are always talking about.
We left in the middle of the night, having completed our quest.

It was time for the 10-hour drive home. We knew we had to return to our regular routine of work and school the next day.

Somehow I think we both knew things would not quite be the same.