Inauguration Report

There are three sets of numbers that sum up my inauguration experience in Washington, D.C. last week: (4x36)+(8x24); 5000+: 2,000,000; 1. I'll give you a second to try and figure that out.

For as long as I can remember, I have been looking forward to Inauguration Weekend. I reserved couch space at a friend's dorm at Georgetown the day of the election. I was able to secure swearing-in and ball tickets for the event through a trusty campaign organizer and friend. I bought overpriced handwarmers. You get the idea. I was ready to go. I couldn't imagine a bigger day in my life, and I wanted to make sure that I enjoyed the whole thing.

The day before I left for DC, I spent some quality time with my dad, who gave me his 1975 (or so) Canon AE-1. He said that he thought it would be really cool for me to have the opportunity to take some timeless photography with a timeless camera for a timeless event such as this. Honored, I took up the charge. Upon arrival to DC, I was a madman with the photography. I bought black-and-white film, color film, extra batteries for the flash, and read the 80 page manual front-to-back. I took hundreds of photos. Notably, I got three shots of Jesse Jackson, right before I shook his hand, Newark Mayor Corey Booker, right before I shook his hand, former President Bush's Chopper as it flew away from the Capitol, and countless shots of Kanye, Kid Rock, Usher, Fall Out Boy, and the Obamas as they danced to "At Last", as performed by a military marching band. In the end I took 336 shots, and I couldn't have been happier. Until I took the photos to be developed. I got a call around 10:30pm from the lab technician asking me if I gave her the right film. What kind of question was that, I thought. She explained to me that all of the rolls were blank. All of them. As if they had never been used. Not one exposure. Not one shot. She asked me if I wanted to come pick them up. I was demoralized. All that time, that effort, those memories, gone. In a flash, so to speak. (4 b/w rolls x 36) + (8 color rolls x 24) = 0 photos

That would have been fine if we actually were able to make it into the swearing-in ceremony. If you have any friends who struggled to make it into the now-infamous "Purple Gate", you already know what I'm talking about. It would have been one thing if we had made it there late, and we ended up stuck in the 3rd Street Tunnel with the other thousands of people who couldn't hear or see a thing as the clock raced towards noon. We were up by 3am, making the pilgrimage toward the mall by 4. With us in the pre-dawn mist were campaign volunteers, donors, and the families and supporters of Congressmen and women who eventually would get stuck with us. So much for those coveted tickets. After hours of jostling and standing and waiting and confusion, my friend and I were twenty-five feet from the entrance gate when they finally closed it completely at 11:45am. Beside me, a young boy, whose grandfather was the first black state Supreme Court Justice for a state whose name escapes me, was sobbing. "The Police are gaylords!!" he screamed into his mother's arms. Behind us, the howitzers were exploding. Barack Obama was officially President Obama, and the 5000+ of us were some of the few people in the world who missed this historic moment. Dejected, my friend and I dragged our feet to a dump truck. The driver was listening to the speech, and he opened his window to let a few of us listen. It felt like the 30s. We were so close, but so far. We walked away with the faint roar of 2 million people somewhere in the not-too-distant distance. (5000+: 2,000,000)

So, one could argue that my inauguration experience was, well, sub-par. But the one thing that keeps me going, most likely the one thing that prevent those thousands of people from rioting and mobbing their way into the Capitol, was that President Obama is now the President of the United States of America. That one thought alone eases the bitterness I may feel toward Capitol Police, Sen. Diane Feinstein, and film photography.


I stopped by the deli near my work this morning to pick up some fruit for the day. I got to the register and noticed that the woman was looking at my Obama pin, emblazoned with that iconic Shepard Fairey image and the words, "Yes We Did, January 20, 2009". She said, "Hey, you kinda look like our new President!" and gave me a big smile. I don't really, but for a person of color in the United States, that compliment has only existed for seven days. Think about that for a second. All because of one man's vision of the potential of this nation. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do," I replied, as I grabbed my orange and V-8 and headed upstairs to my office.

Cloud, obvious. Silver lining, blinding. (1)