Isn't it crazy that the asshat is out of the White House? It was amazing to be in DC for the past week. I stayed with a great friend who lives right in town and we hung out and ate and laughed for five days. God, I miss living in a city that has normal things like cupcake stores and a subway.
We went down for the end of the concert on Sunday - god, it was amazing hearing Bono's voice, and then hearing Obama's voice threw us into a frenzy of excitement. All the crazy feelings and the intense energy that you would imagine was exactly what I felt. I went back downtown alone for the inauguration and ended up getting stuck in a crowd (imagine that) by the purple gate. I was three inches away from the cannons for the 21-gun salute - that was loud - and basically couldn't see anything or hear much at all. I eventually went back to Union Station to figure out what was going on, and caught Obama's speech on a radio with a bunch of people gathered around. It was incredibly touching, lots of tears, and strangely it felt great to be with a small group to experience that moment versus being one of two million across the street. All of Union Station cheered when it was done - a wonderful sound. And then it was just dealing with the DCPD shutting down the Metro due to overcrowding and trying to get the hell out of there. No easy task.
It's hard to believe we have a President who appears to be competent and isn't a complete embarrassment. If I had a dime for every time I was asked about Mr. Bush when traveling in a foreign country, well, I'd probably have about $3.00. But that's a lot of questions, and they were all along the lines of, "Your President loves war, doesn't he?" Always derogatory, always embarrassing, always me trying to say something to put distance between the most well-known and hated American, and the one standing in front of them. No more.
Yesterday on the Metro on the way to National Airport (wow, that was a clusterfuck) to come home, I was wondering when I became such a country bumpkin because I was truly so excited and impressed with myself to be finding my way around. I was listening to my iPod and loving life, feeling very metropolitan and everything, and suddenly I looked up and the doors were closing on my stop. Bummer. I changed plans (because I can do that) and decided to transfer at the next station instead. So I transferred, but got on the wrong train - orange, blue, it's very confusing. I finally just got off the train a few stops later, found myself mysteriously in Virginia, called my friend, regrouped, and made it to the airport without a second to spare. Hello.
It's always great to get home after a trip and sleep in your own bed and do laundry and snuggle your kitty and kiss your Mac, isn't it? My Flickr photos are here.