SFO - DCA

It was like a slap in the face the second I walked out of the terminal at National Airport. The cab driver told me that it was eight degrees – felt colder than that. It’s quite the contrast to the unseasonably high temperatures that I left behind in San Francisco. I hope it warms up before Tuesday.

After a quiet night and a late rise, I made my way to DC from my hotel in Alexandria. My boss booked us rooms in Virginia several months back as Washington hotels were becoming scarce and rates were skyrocketing. Even in Alexandria the rooms were fetching over $400 a night at the Holiday Inn that usually books for around $129. My first day was mellow, picking up credentials and doing a few features before covering a ball in the evening. There were people from all over the country on the Metro. Everyone was in a good mood and having fun despite the frigid weather.
The streets around the White House were clogged with people taking pictures and buying schwag from street vendors. You could buy just about anything with Obama’s face on it. There were dozens of shirts, ties, hats, plates, posters, buttons and even watches. Most of it was extremely tacky. T-shirts with an iron on rubber patch image of the “First Family” superimposed in front of the White House looked like an ad for a new sitcom. There was a button that showed Obama whispering into Michelle’s ear that could have easily been the cover of a cheesy soft core porn novel.
Sound checks were underway at the Lincoln Memorial for the big “We Are One” concert that was set for Sunday. When I arrived, John Mellencamp was onstage rehearsing “Pink Houses” and a crowd of people had gathered behind the security fence to watch. I showed my credential for the show to the Park Police officer and he let me into the secured area. I mingled around and shot a few frames of Mellencamp. I soon realized that I wasn’t supposed to be in the area since everyone had pre-event credentials. So, I hid my credentials and tried to keep a low profile until the crews broke for lunch. It was puzzling to me that I could get through all that security with the wrong pass.
I arrived at the People’s Inaugural Ball to discover that I was the first one there. When I say the first one, I’m not saying the first press person, I was pretty much the first person. Not a good sign. I asked the man at the press check-in if he was expecting any notable people to be in attendance. He kind of looked at me blankly for a second and then rattled off a short list of former NFL players. I took that as a no.
I wandered around the ball for close to 2 hours as a few dozen people filed in. It was a weird setup for a ball. They had a mini flea market in the lobby where you could buy custom made suits and art of Barack Obama. In the ballroom a wedding type band played jazz tunes and a crowd of elderly folks grazed on buffet food. It was dead. It was like a 50th wedding anniversary party at a senior citizen home in central Florida, but not as cool. After 2 hours I left and headed to Old Ebbits Grill for dinner with friends.