Barack Obama's Inauguration (p1)

Wanting to be a part of history, Nate and I decided to attend Barack Obama’s inauguration. We wanted to see all the action; after all, we voted for him and felt this was the next step to take. Traveling plans were made and we booked our round-trip tickets to Washington D.C. via the Chinatown bus company called Apex.

Riding the Chinatown bus is like being on a game show minus the prizes. You wait for a bus to show up and to get on--simple, right? But instead two buses might arrive simultaneously and you have to immediately guess which one is yours and push through the crowd to grab a seat--all along hoping that the people you came with are right behind you because you can't explain that you're "holding" this seat for Connie who some how got separated from you in all the madness. This is not a movie theatre where people accept this type of reasoning; instead, this is the Chinatown bus where in their eyes--this display of not understanding the rule of "first come first serve"--just lost you your own seat and you are then removed from the bus without a consolation prize or the sound of a gong.

Nate and I had traveled this way before so we knew what to expect. There are no "employees" to ask questions to. People who have been waiting the longest vote themselves as the official spokesperson and the chaos just trickles down. It’s like Survivor except there is no fan base or “Good Morning America” interview waiting for you if you’re voted off.

Nate approached a lady standing in line near the edge of Allen Street.

Nate: Is this the line for the D.C. bus?
Lady in Yellow: Yes.
Nate: So that line over there (pointing across the street) is for the Philly bus?
Lady in Yellow: Yes.

I crossed over from Allen Street to another line that was formed.

Nando: Is this the line for the D.C. bus?
Man in Blue: Yes.
Nando: So that line over there (pointing across the street) is for the Philly bus?
Man in Blue: Yes.

Nate and I separated and got into each line making sure we had eye contact with one another in order to communicate nonverbally—we felt like spies. According to his source, he was in line for the bus on route to D.C. but according to my source, a balding man wearing a blue “Obama equals Change” t-shirt, so was I. But if I had to choose, I would have chosen the lady in yellow to have been more reliable--at least her breath didn't smell like chicken curry and Dr. Pepper, you just can't trust people who eat an ethnic meal then wash it all down with an American drink. That’s just wrong.

I knew from past experience that bus drivers don't really care if they park at the appropriate line--they just stop the bus and "kept it moving". If you get on the wrong bus because you weren't paying attention--then have a fun trip wherever you end up and make sure to take plenty of photos because they're not stopping for anyone. On our last trip to D.C., we were half-way there when a group of Denmark tourists thought they were almost in Florida. I would have loved to seen their confused state of mind as they wondered why the U.S. decided to move the Capitol closer to Disneyland.

As we all waited for the 8pm bus to D.C. to arrive—something horrible happened. Three buses showed up and chaos ensued. I looked over at Nate and noticed his worried look. It’s the look you might get when having to choose which flavored condom to put on when you really don’t like the person you’re about to have sex with and you really don’t want to waste a flavor. Lines no longer existed with this crowd and organization was a thing of the past—everyone scattered like ants after the removal of a rock that revealed their hiding place. This was a society that clearly believed in “every man for himself.” I was convinced that this group had not learned the educational value of the “Titanic”—but confident they all had front row tickets to the Texas Chain Saw Massacre where they learned to run as if a madman were after them.

I noticed that a large crowd crossed the street where the third bus pulled up. That was it. I just knew it. I ran over to Nate and yelled—“Over there, hurry!” And we joined the masses in a frantic manner running across the street with only adrenaline by our side. Once we got inside the bus, the non-English-speaking driver grunted and squinted his eyes as a sign of communication letting us know—that just like Barack Obama—we had made it.


To be continued...

RELATED POSTS:

Inauguation Day Series click here.
Obama's Inauguration (p2) click here.
If You Voted For Him click here.
Jab & The Inauguration click here.
Photos from the Inauguration click here.