23 1 / 2009

This is the tunnel off 3rd St & Constitution Ave in Washington, DC, filling up with people at 6:45AM on the morning of January 20th. We stood inside of it, barely moving, for almost five hours. There were no police, no crowd control officials, nobody transmitting information of any kind, and no bathrooms. At random intervals, cars, fire trucks, ambulances and military vehicles would drive through the tunnel on either side of the line of milling people, at regular speed and apparently without realizing there were no officials to direct pedestrians to safety. It was about 20 degrees the entire time, and we were without the benefit of sunlight for warmth. Despite that, it was a congenial crowd. Positive, optimistic, happy, chatty, self-regulating. This was a lucky thing, because if there had been an emergency or angry riot, we would have been unable to safely exit the tunnel. I still can’t quite believe the people in charge of managing the event (it’s still not clear who that was; the Presidential Inaugural Committee? the DC city administrators? some other governing body? perhaps nobody knew?) would expose the municipality to such liability. The saddest thing about the crowd’s persistent optimism was that none of us had any way to know that they would be so severely botching the entrance at the security gate for Purple colored tickets (though I heard later similar stories from other colors), leading to an early closure of the gate, widespread confusion, and a dangerously large confused mob at 1st & D Streets. So, people who had traveled across states, spent more money than they could afford on overpriced accomodations and impacted flights, relying on the promise of ticketed entry to one of the most significant moments in national history, would be trapped in unmanaged queues and denied entry well after the ceremony started. The number of these people remains controversial, but it is not, as Sergeant-at-Arms Terry Gainer of the senate committee originally said publicly, zero. I personally witnessed a few thousand people never make it to within two blocks of the entry gate, and judging from the length of the line before us and the amount of empty space in our section when we did finally make it in, the number of screwed ticket holders was well into the thousands. We only made it into the ceremony (over an hour late) because an act of quick thinking and a dash around the block got us, and a few hundred others, in through a back door. There security was rushed and ineffectual, making it more ironic that the problem had originally stemmed from security capacity. We (literally) ran into our section and up as close as we could, just in time to hear Aretha Franklin, and spent the next few minutes sobbing, as much from relief, stress, and cold as the euphoria of the moment. Later, I’m sure, the experience will be all the more allegorical for the heroes’ journey, and I did get to witness, fairly close up, a beautiful address that will hopefully mark the beginning of positive change for our troubled nation. But I feel so sad for the people we met in line, and all over Washington all week/end who were denied at the last minute; people who traveled farther and spent more than they could to be a part of the ceremony they felt so much ownership over; people who’d worked on the campaign in tense precincts, people whose grandparents and parents (and many old enough themselves) who had been denied the right to vote because of the color of their skin, people of too many different backgrounds to identify. There was an incredible air of repair, of hope and friendship and weaving togetherness. I can empathize with the crushing disappointment from those people, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow thinking about how much open space there was in the purple section, and how happy and optimistic and eager all of those people were about an event they would never get to witness, simply because of apparent ineptitude on the part of the organizers. It’s too bad that people are tempted to blame the new administration and I hope none of the press reflects badly on Obama at all; he’s clearly not related to the cause of this. But I do hope Senator Feinstein (of whom I am a constituent) and her committee find some suitable way to apologize, if that’s possible.

This is the tunnel off 3rd St & Constitution Ave in Washington, DC, filling up with people at 6:45AM on the morning of January 20th.

We stood inside of it, barely moving, for almost five hours. There were no police, no crowd control officials, nobody transmitting information of any kind, and no bathrooms. At random intervals, cars, fire trucks, ambulances and military vehicles would drive through the tunnel on either side of the line of milling people, at regular speed and apparently without realizing there were no officials to direct pedestrians to safety. It was about 20 degrees the entire time, and we were without the benefit of sunlight for warmth.

Despite that, it was a congenial crowd. Positive, optimistic, happy, chatty, self-regulating. This was a lucky thing, because if there had been an emergency or angry riot, we would have been unable to safely exit the tunnel. I still can’t quite believe the people in charge of managing the event (it’s still not clear who that was; the Presidential Inaugural Committee? the DC city administrators? some other governing body? perhaps nobody knew?) would expose the municipality to such liability.

The saddest thing about the crowd’s persistent optimism was that none of us had any way to know that they would be so severely botching the entrance at the security gate for Purple colored tickets (though I heard later similar stories from other colors), leading to an early closure of the gate, widespread confusion, and a dangerously large confused mob at 1st & D Streets. So, people who had traveled across states, spent more money than they could afford on overpriced accomodations and impacted flights, relying on the promise of ticketed entry to one of the most significant moments in national history, would be trapped in unmanaged queues and denied entry well after the ceremony started.

The number of these people remains controversial, but it is not, as Sergeant-at-Arms Terry Gainer of the senate committee originally said publicly, zero. I personally witnessed a few thousand people never make it to within two blocks of the entry gate, and judging from the length of the line before us and the amount of empty space in our section when we did finally make it in, the number of screwed ticket holders was well into the thousands.

We only made it into the ceremony (over an hour late) because an act of quick thinking and a dash around the block got us, and a few hundred others, in through a back door. There security was rushed and ineffectual, making it more ironic that the problem had originally stemmed from security capacity. We (literally) ran into our section and up as close as we could, just in time to hear Aretha Franklin, and spent the next few minutes sobbing, as much from relief, stress, and cold as the euphoria of the moment. Later, I’m sure, the experience will be all the more allegorical for the heroes’ journey, and I did get to witness, fairly close up, a beautiful address that will hopefully mark the beginning of positive change for our troubled nation.

But I feel so sad for the people we met in line, and all over Washington all week/end who were denied at the last minute; people who traveled farther and spent more than they could to be a part of the ceremony they felt so much ownership over; people who’d worked on the campaign in tense precincts, people whose grandparents and parents (and many old enough themselves) who had been denied the right to vote because of the color of their skin, people of too many different backgrounds to identify. There was an incredible air of repair, of hope and friendship and weaving togetherness. I can empathize with the crushing disappointment from those people, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow thinking about how much open space there was in the purple section, and how happy and optimistic and eager all of those people were about an event they would never get to witness, simply because of apparent ineptitude on the part of the organizers.

It’s too bad that people are tempted to blame the new administration and I hope none of the press reflects badly on Obama at all; he’s clearly not related to the cause of this. But I do hope Senator Feinstein (of whom I am a constituent) and her committee find some suitable way to apologize, if that’s possible.

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