Like Obama says, it began with a hope. At dinner one night, I made a casual remark that it would be cool to go to Obama’s inauguration. My parents kinda nodded. Not much more. I knew it was very unlikely because my parents are wikid strict about school and wouldn’t want me missing midterm review sessions. Still, every now and then I’d remind them of ways it could work.
“We could just go down for the day by plane.” “I could still go after school to ask teachers questions.” They never said anything back. Just nodded like before.
It was looking pretty grim. My parents usually won’t let me miss school unless I’m so sick I have to crawl to the toilet. Even though I knew it would never happen, I was actually really let down. By that time, I had discovered Obama’s book, Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, listened to most of his speeches online, and gobbled up every bit of info about the guy. I had grown to respect him for his experience, life choices, and the positive energy pulsing around him. Like me, he has a love for writing. Like me, he has struggled with questions about his family squared (his family back in Africa that he had never met). When he got off the plane in Africa, beginning his journey to unearth his roots and unveil the mysteries of his family’s past, I thought to my future when I will be making a similar journey into the tropical, war-ridden lands of El Salvador to seek out my biological family. When he questioned which culture, people, history he belonged to, I, for the first time, began wondering if I am part of the Latino culture or the American culture. Or as he felt, part of neither. He had been brought up away from Africa, away from the authentic values of his people. I had been brought up so many worlds away from El Salvador that I would have never known the name of the country had not my mother made sure I understood I was adopted. Aspects of Obama’s life paralleled mine in a very scary, but real way.
I realized that he is the first real hero I have ever had. Most of my heroes have been characters in stories or people long dead. After discovering all this and more, I had to live with the sad, but obvious realization that Obama was going to forever be a face on television, a voice over the internet. Not truly real. I hated how I had finally found a hero living today to look up to, and now I was going to miss the one opportunity to experience him for real… in person.
…I wasn’t expecting it at all and I still can’t believe it happened. Three days before the inauguration, I was laying in bed thinking. It was late, about 11:30 PM. The inauguration wasn’t even in my mind. I was thinking about midterms, relationships, and my life. My door slowly began to open. My Dad poked his head in. Even in the darkness, I could see his glasses shining.
“TK?”
“Yea?”
“I got two plane tickets for DC so make sure to get any homework from your teachers.” Then, he closed to door.
Silence.
Damn! I remember laughing to myself.
I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
It was like when I was little and I couldn’t get to bed on Christmas Eve because I’d be thinking about all the presents in the morning. I just kept picturing the sea of people, Obama’s booming voice, and me there.
No way I could get to sleep now. I just kept saying “Oh shit! Damn. Holy shit.”
The journey had begun.
We left early on the morning of the inauguration. I slept on the way down to the airport. We couldn’t bring any luggage, so it was just me and my dad bundled up in puffy coats and gloves getting on the plane.
At this time, I had about ten pages left in my Obama book. It was… very very coincidental that I was just about to finish this guy’s book and now I was going to meet him. I decided to save the last pages for the flight home and instead took another nap.
When we arrived at the DC airport, we rushed to catch the subway. We knew every minute was precious because there were going to be so many people filling into the mall. The subway car was packed. I was smooshed up against an old woman who smelled like dusty perfume. Almost everyone around me was black and all the woman were wearing furs. It was… odd… but expected I guess. As I was standing there, helping a woman steady herself against a support bar, I thought back to a passage in Obama’s book when he first went to Africa and got this enormous sense of family love and belonging. I looked around at the brown, black, and tan faces. Some of them were old and worn. Others were young and taught. In the orange sunlight tinted by the subway car’s window, they looked warm and inviting. It’s habit for me to avoid eyes in public. This time though, I looked around and locked eyes with a girl who couldn’t be more than 30. She smiled, showing a healthy set of teeth. I smiled back. I don’t if it was the day or what, but I’ve never had that experience before. Usually people will force a smile. She gave a real one.
One of the older women passed out on the subway. I saw it coming. She was closing her eyes, mumbling, and kinda leaning against the bar/sliding down. True, I didn’t do anything about it. Everyone felt like passing out… it was a wikid long subway ride.
Here’s some pics of the train station when I got off.
There were camera flashes everywhere. Kinda blinding. Going up into the cool morning air was like a slap in the face. As we walked with everyone else (it was like a mini-parade), I got to thinking about politics and myself. If you had asked me last year, I’d have never believed I’d be going to a president’s inauguration. I’ve just never been interested in government before. Kinda unbelievable how things change so fast.
Damn. It was packed. Literally, people everywhere you looked. Me and my dad crammed into the crowd, trying to get a good place to stand. At one time, my dad said he felt like fainting. All the people were pressing against you from every side. Would suck for a claustrophobic person. I was laughing… it was such a hilarious concept. All these people in the crowd. I’m thinking… okay let’s see… what percent is thinking about sex? What percent is into zoophilia? You know… all those statistics where like 10 percent of people this or that… and you look around at the crowd of a million people and realize those people are being squished against you.
We couldn’t see Obama at all. Way too many heads. Heard the speech though. It was all… echoey though because the speakers weren’t really coordinated. Lots of people were crying and yelling and talking. I guess I kinda blended in being Latio and all… There were so many black, Indian, Spanish, people. After the speech, we spent an hour waiting to get out of the place, then eventually me and my dad just pushed through an opening and ran to freedom lol.
Spent another hour trying to find a place to eat/get on the subway. Finally, we got on the subway and began the long ride back to the airport. Airport, then buss, then finally home. Back in one piece…
Fucking incredible but horrible experience. So cold… my legs were numb, my back was aching and it hurt to walk the next day from standing 8 hours in one spot.
It’s really amazing how all these people came together in one spot to celebrate Obama. And how… we all had something in common, that we were there, so when we talked to people standing beside us, it wasn’t like they were strangers. We laughed and just talked when we had something to say.
Man, I remember on the buss that took us to the subway how all the older black women were sitting down and smiling and chatting and the younger couples were talking to each other, faces really close and intimate. I really felt… not awkward. I donno how else to say it. Felt really calm like I belonged in that moment. Usually, when I was on the T in Boston, the people would avert their eyes and pretend the other people didn’t exist. Here, it was like we were all in it together… the trip to the inauguration I guess. Most of the time I get the vibe people don wanna make the effort to reach out, don’t see the point or don’t care. Here, everyone was reaching out. People were talking who had never known each other. It was a good positive feel, the feel I think Obama got when he went back to Africa to visit his family for the first time.
I guess there’s no other way to describe it than incredible. These math geniuses, people at the top of their fields, hot Victoria secret models, businessmen, construction workers all came together to celebrate Obama. Obama obviously isn’t the smartest person when it comes to math or science or English or history, but they put their faith in him to run the country… I think because it’s more than intelligence. It’s that ability to make decisions, to have your own beliefs and be a well-rounded, emotionally intelligent individual.
Anyway, here’s the rest of the pics.
The Thought Hole 